I woke up—not because of the dull, gray morning, the kind where the clouds hung so low they felt like they were pressing down on me. No, I woke up because of something else.
But what?
Turning over, I realized I wasn't alone in my bed. For a short, frantic moment, I thought I had given in to Mary, that I had only imagined turning her away.
But then I noticed a small mess of black hair, not auburn. Peeling the covers back slightly, I saw Judas sleeping next to me, his face peaceful in a way I didn't think was possible for him.
Huh.
Didn't peg Judas as the type to crawl into someone else's bed. Maybe that's just what kids did. I had never done it, but Ellie—my younger sister—used to crawl into our beds if she had a nightmare. She usually went to Joseph, who would whisper bedtime stories in the dark until she drifted off.
But when she was really scared? She came to me. Because she trusted I could keep the monsters away. That was a nice memory.
So I let him sleep and slipped out to the kitchen to make breakfast for the three of us. No point waking him now, anyway.
I didn't realize I was humming as I cooked, didn't notice the gentle smile tugging at my lips as I flipped the pancakes.
Not that they were anything special—synth ingredients gave everything a bitter aftertaste.
When I finally caught myself humming, the smile vanished. I used to hum when I made breakfast for my family. I was far from a good cook, but back then, I got nothing but compliments and laughter.
As if summoned by the smell, Judas stumbled out of my room, bleary-eyed and yawning. "Morning, Reshi," he mumbled, plopping onto the floor beside the couch, waiting to be served.
"Tsk." Damn brat already expecting five-star service. Yet despite my grumble, it reminded me of Ellie. So, with the ghost of a smirk, I handed him a plate of pancakes.
"Wake up your mom first," I said just before his hands could grab the food.
He paused. Sighed heavily, like he was making some great sacrifice, then trudged toward the little room where Mary was still sleeping.
A moment later, the two of them emerged. Mary gave me a soft smile. "Morning, Reshi."
"Morning, Mary. I made pancakes."
Her eyes gleamed at the sight of the food, like an excited cat.
We ate in silence—not an awkward one, but something quieter, more peaceful. When had I grown so close to them? They'd barely been here two days. And they weren't going to be here much longer, I reminded myself. Don't think otherwise.
"So, Judas," I said, raising an eyebrow, "how come you slept in my bed last night?"
The kid, who had practically personified caution yesterday, gave me a long-suffering look. "You let me."
"Huh? Did I?" I didn't remember that.
Mary chuckled. "It was in the middle of the night. You were half-asleep, so you probably don't remember. Judas is scared of the dark, so he came to your room for company. And you let him stay."
I froze. I didn't remember that. It was strange—shocking, even—that someone like Judas, hardened by survival, was afraid of something as simple as the dark. And that he would come to me when he was scared.
I kept my face unreadable, nodding as if it were the most casual thing in the world. But Mary must have noticed something because later, as I washed the dishes, she approached while Judas napped.
"He looks up to you, you know."
I snorted. "Judas? Unlikely."
Mary shook her head. "He really does."
"Mary, Judas sees me as a mix between a monster he can't trust and his personal chef."
She smiled sadly. "Trust me, Reshi, that boy's seen plenty of monsters. That's not it. He asked me how to get strong like you. Strong enough that no one could ever hurt us."
A bitter taste filled my mouth. "That's not a nice dream for a kid. Children are meant to want to be astronauts or superheroes."
"For him, it is."
My teeth clenched. A slow, simmering anger rose in my chest. "Look, I'm not a hero or a role model, Mary. Please don't turn me into one." Again, I added to myself.
Without another word, I turned away, done with the conversation. What kind of twisted kid would see me as a role model? No, that wasn't right. What kind of twisted world did I live in where someone like me could be seen as a role model?
## Strength and Fear
I retreated to my room, hoping for a day of sleep or reading manga.
But, of course, I couldn't even get that.
Just as I was on the brink of sleep, Judas's voice sliced through the haze.
"How did you get so strong?"
I snorted. "By having a shit life."
"But I got a shit life."
"By having a shit life in the army," I corrected.
"So I have to join the army to be strong?"
"No, but it's one way of doing it."
"So can I join the army?"
"And leave your mom all alone?"
He hesitated. "Can she join me?"
I laughed. "Sure, but you're too young, and she's too weak. You'd both be used as bait and slaughtered."
Judas paled visibly.
"Uh… painlessly," I added. "But listen, kid, I don't recommend it."
"So what do I do?"
"Grow older first."
He muttered something dark under his breath. No doubt he'd heard that before. But since he was being so talkative, I decided it was my turn to ask a question.
"Hey, Judas. Why are you scared of the dark?"
Silence stretched between us. Then, softly—timidly—he spoke.
"Because of the monsters."
Ah. So he *is* like Ellie then.
"You know, Judas, there are no monsters in the dark."
Judas shook his head. "There is one."
"One?"
"The boss. Mom's boss."
I stilled.
"He'd lock me in the cellar when Mom didn't do what he wanted. There are no windows in the cellar. So I could never see him coming when he… when he beat me."
So, you *are* scared of monsters in the dark, I thought, my heart plunging. The same fear as Ellie, yet for such different reasons. They'd be around the same age, I think.
"You know, Judas, I'm scared of the dark sometimes too."
Judas looked up at me, his eyes solemn, too old for his small frame. A sad smile playing on his lips. "Scary, isn't it?"
I smiled back. "Yeah. It is."
...…
A week had passed since that day, yet Judas's haunted eyes still lingered in my mind. The image surfaced every time I gathered the resolve to kick them out—to rid myself of them before it was too late.
But I hadn't. Not yet. Not for lack of trying, but because, every time, I found another reason. Another excuse that made too much sense. And so, two weeks passed, and they were still here.
I hadn't told them they could stay, but I hadn't asked them to leave either. Maybe it was because I knew they wouldn't last out there. Maybe it was because I was afraid of waking up to that crushing silence again, realizing I only needed to cook breakfast for one.
Or maybe—just maybe—it was because I cared. Cared for the frightened mother. Cared for the little boy who, despite everything, kept crawling into my bed at night just to feel safe.
I woke up, careful not to disturb Judas as I slipped out from under the covers. The morning routine had become second nature. Three portions of food, plated and steaming. And, like clockwork, the scent would summon them both, two groggy figures shuffling into the main room.
"Hey, Reshi," Mary greeted, her voice light despite the gloom.
"Morning, Mary."
Judas said nothing, his attention entirely consumed by the meal. He attacked his plate with a single-minded determination, stuffing food into his mouth in a way that defied both biology and logic.
I couldn't help but smirk. It was almost impressive.
We ate in comfortable silence. Since that day, the food had started tasting different—better. Richer, sweeter. Warmer. Sharing it with them made all the difference.
When I finished, Mary took our plates and began washing them. "Are you working today, Reshi?" she asked.
"Yeah, all day."
"Okay, get changed. I'll pack you something to eat."
I paused mid-step, something tightening in my chest. Such a small thing, a packed meal. Insignificant. Yet it stirred something deep within me, something I had nearly forgotten.
"Thank you," I murmured hoarsely before retreating to my room.
I dressed slowly, shaking off the last traces of sleep. When I stepped out, a neatly packed meal sat on the counter, waiting for me. Mary offered me a gentle smile before disappearing into her room.
"I'll see you later, Reshi."
"See you, Mary." I turned to Judas. "And you—listen to your mom while I'm gone, or you'll never get strong."
He hesitated before grumbling, "Okay."
I smirked, then stepped out, locking the door behind me.
But as soon as I left the apartment, the warmth faded. My expression fell, my steps growing heavier with each one I took toward work. Outside of their presence, the thoughts returned.
What the hell am I doing?
People were looking for them. Looking for me. This life—this fragile, fleeting moment of peace—was unsustainable. A dream. And dreams don't last.
Sooner or later, reality would wake me up.
I needed to tell them to leave. I had done enough. Surely, that would be okay.
They had to go.
Because sooner or later—just like everyone else I had ever loved—I would let them down. And when that happened, all that would be left was me… hating myself.
---
The streets were quiet as I made my way to the convenience store. The morning air carried a faint chill, and the sky was a dull, oppressive gray.
Then I saw them.
A group of men turned the corner ahead, their voices low and rough. One of them limped heavily, leaning on crutches, his face a mess of bruises.
My stomach twisted. Azazel.
I recognized him instantly. According to Mary, he was one of the boss's enforcers—the same one I had beaten to within an inch of his life. And the only one who could recognize me.
Panic surged through me. I turned away, trying to appear casual, as if I hadn't noticed them.
"Hey! You!"
I froze. My heartbeat slammed against my ribs. Run. I needed to run. But my legs wouldn't move. Not out of fear. Not out of shock. They simply refused to function, as if bound by invisible chains.
"Oi! I'm talking to you!"
Hands—iron-strong—clamped down on my arms before I could react.
"That him, Az?" one of them asked.
Azazel limped closer, scrutinizing me. For a second, I dared to hope. Maybe it had been too dark that night. Maybe he didn't recognize me. Maybe—just this once—luck would be on my side.
But then his gaze dropped to my left hand. His eyes widened at the familiar scars and cuts.
His expression twisted into something venomous. "Yeah," he said. "That's the bastard."
I barely had time to curse before a fist crashed into my jaw.
Darkness swallowed me whole before I even hit the ground.