The screen snapped back to life.
Asli ducked just in time—a blade hissed past his ear and buried itself in the shack wall behind him. The tight interior offered no cover. Just broken furniture, splintered floorboards, and two heavily armed idiots now blocking the only exit.
He scrambled back, hands half-raised.
"Okay, listen—maybe we can talk this out—"
Thud.
Another dagger struck the wall. Inches from his head.
Asli exhaled through his nose.
"…Or not."
The two assailants stepped inside, flanking him like wolves. Early twenties, lean and wiry, clad in sand-stained desert leathers. Bows slung over their backs. District 3, judging by the sun-bleached insignias and the smugness practically radiating off them.
The broader one—dust-blonde, grinning like an idiot—tilted his head.
"Bounce said this one was a fighter. You sure this is it?"
His partner chuckled, circling slowly.
"He dodges well… for a blind kid."
He stopped just a foot from Asli. Eyes narrowed.
"You faking it?"
Without waiting for an answer, the man reached for the blindfold.
Asli didn't flinch.
But a muscle twitched near his brow.
'Why am I always put in these situations…'
The hand crept closer.
Smack.
A sharp slap across the wrist.
"First of all—boundaries,no touching " Asli said coolly. His smile was polite. And razor-edged.
The man recoiled, sneering.
"Touchy, aren't you?"
Asli tilted his head. "We can still sort this out—"
The air shifted. A beat of stillness.
One thug's hand hovered near his belt. The other straightened—just slightly.
Asli sighed. Loud. Theatrical. Arms falling slack.
"Alright. Congrats. You caught the helpless blind boy. Go ahead, tie me up, drag me through the mud, ruin my whole afternoon. Just—please don't mess with my playlist."
They blinked.
"Wait… what?" the sand-haired one muttered.
Asli gave them a thumbs-up. "I surrender, just stop bothering me ."
A pause.
"…what?"
The two stared at him.
"Seriously?"
Asli nodded,slowly , he wasn't sure why the atmosphere had changed or why they were looking at him as if he'd grown two heads.
The broader one shoved him against the wall, irritation bubbling past mockery. He began patting him down, rough and impersonal.
"Okay—wow. Watch the hands," Asli snapped. "There's a respectful way to frisk someone, you know. Maybe buy me dinner first—"
"Shut it," the man muttered, coming up empty.
"Not even a dagger? Useless."
"Excuse you," Asli said, feigning offense,apart from the fact he was actually offended.
The first thug rolled his eyes. "He's not worth the effort. Tie him up and toss him outside."
The second sighed, pulling a cord from his belt.
A few minutes later…
Asli dangled upside down from a low, moss-covered tree limb just inside the shack, swaying gently in the breeze like a poorly strung wind chime.
Arms bound tightly behind his back. The cord dug into his ribs. One shoe had fallen off.
He squinted at the empty forest beyond the window.
"Hey! You could've at least loosened the rope! I can't feel my hands!"
No answer. Just his own voice echoing back.
Idiots, he thought.
Then he sighed and let his head hang.
"…So this is what rock bottom feels like. Huh. Kinda breezy."