Two years later, here she was—three months after escaping the adoptive house she had been living in for a year. Three months since she decided to run. Two months after that, she found herself aboard a ship, sailing away from everything she had known—fleeing the reality of being abandoned by her parents, her sister, and the cold, sterile care of the hospital. And, of course, from Dr. Alexander.
Now, two years had passed, and Moon still had some coins to her name. Just three months ago, she had turned seventeen. Seventeen, and already hearing rumors that her adoptive parents were preparing to list her in TSE—the system for registering children into servitude or military once they reached the age. It was all whispers in the streets, nothing certain. But still… enough to send her running.
Two years of surviving alone, and she still hadn't found her sister.
"You're mute? Nod if you are."
The fragile boy in front of her looked up with big, watery puppy eyes—and nodded.
Poor boy, she thought. She understood the struggle too well.
"Alright. This won't be easy," she said gently, "but at least you can nod and shake your head."
She glanced around. Rain poured relentlessly, soaking the streets. There was no shelter in sight.
"You must be cold… and I can't keep my jacket on you because I'm getting drenched too," she admitted, squinting through the rain.
"You must be starving. Are you hungry? Because God, I am."
Around them, market stalls bustled with life despite the downpour. One in particular caught her eye—fried chicken. Her stomach growled. She hadn't had a proper meal in ages, not since that old lady handed her a stale piece of bread. The last time she remembered tasting fried chicken was… with Dr. Alexander.
But that was in the past.
She had to focus on now.
On the boy.
On survival.
Moon crouched beside him and gently took his tiny, cold hands, guiding him close so he wouldn't get lost in the crowd. She chose a smaller stall, one partially covered from the rain, with fewer people and quicker service.
"Two pieces, please," she said, glancing down at the boy.
His face lit up at the sight of food, and the vendor handed them their portions. Moon gave over her precious coins, counting each one carefully.
"We should find a dry place," she muttered, pocketing the few remaining coins. She had just enough—barely—for the kid to have shelter, maybe for a night or two.
"Do you have any family?" she asked.
The boy shook his head.
No family. No home. Just hunger and loneliness. Moon knew the feeling all too well.
"Okay… well, I do have to board a ship soon, and I can't leave you like this. I have—"
She paused, words tumbling over themselves.
"I have a few coins left. Maybe enough to get you safe. I just… I can't leave you here."
She ran a hand through her now-messy braid—a nervous habit she picked up back in the hospital. She took a bite of her warm chicken, savoring it as she led him to a nearby bench. It was rusty and forgotten, probably never sat on except by people too weighed down by life to care.
As she sat, something caught her eye—a sign posted above a little store. She nearly choked on her chicken as she sprang to her feet.
"That's it!" she gasped, pointing at the sign. The boy blinked up at her, confused.
"Work," she said, making sure he saw it. She wasn't sure he could read.
It was a farm job—twelve coins a week. Not a lot, but enough. She doubted the boy could do heavy labor, but it was worth a try.
"Can you take care of farm animals?" she asked.
He shrugged.
After they finished eating, they both looked better—at least a little more alive. Moon approached the lady inside the shop, who looked up curiously.
"Excuse me, miss?" Moon asked.
"Yes, young lady, how can I help you?"
"Could this boy work for you? As a farmhand?" she pointed to the sign.
The woman squinted, studying the boy. "Well… he's awfully small. Might be too little to lift anything. I don't know…" She scratched her head.
"Please," Moon begged. "He's staying on the streets. He has no one. No family."
The woman sighed. "Fine," she said reluctantly. "There's two spare rooms. Since you found him, he can stay in one."
Moon smiled in relief. One less thing to worry about.
The boy tugged on her sleeve, shaking his head frantically.
"What? I… I can't stay," she said softly. "I have to go. I'm sorry. I hope you have a better life now."
She pressed ten coins into his small hand. It wasn't much, but it would feed him.
The boy suddenly hugged her tight—and pointed toward the ship.
It was moving. Without her.
"No! I— I have to go! Take care!"
She turned and ran, her feet flying across the slick, wet street.
"Wait! I'm still here!" she shouted, tripping over cobblestones.
Her ragged pouch slipped from her belt, and coins clattered to the ground. The crowd didn't notice—people stepped on them, kicked them, picked them up without a second glance.
"That's mine! Wait—no!"
She scrambled to collect as many as she could. But when she turned around, the ship was already disappearing into the horizon. Gone. Just like her hope.
She opened her palm. Seventeen coins. That was all she had left.
"Seventeen coins. Great," she muttered in frustration.
With no other options, she wandered through the winding streets and approached a rundown inn.
"One small room. One night," she told the man at the front desk, handing him five coins.
"Just one?" the man asked, not really caring.
"Yeah. Just one… hopefully," she added under her breath.
He led her to a creaky old room with a musty smell and peeling walls. It gave her a bad feeling, but it was shelter for the night.
"I'll be gone by sunrise," she promised as she shut the door behind her.
It wasn't clean. It wasn't safe. But it was dry.
She sat on the bed and held her remaining coins tightly in her fist. These were the coins Dr. Alexander gave her when she turned fifteen.
"Oh, Dr. Alexander… I'm so, so sorry," she whispered.
Her fingers brushed the corner of her mouth, remembering the only kiss she had ever received—gentle, soft, and from him. She smiled. A rare thing. Maybe it was just… growing up. That's what she told herself.
"Grace… mother… I'll be seeing you soon."
That's what she kept replaying in her head until sleep finally claimed her.
But peace didn't last long.
She awoke with a start—loud moaning from the other side of the thin wall. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the sounds would stop.
A woman screamed. Was it pain? Pleasure? Moon couldn't tell.
Then—
BANG
A loud crash made her jump from the broken bed.
"GET OUT, PROSTITUTES! WHOEVER WE FIND GOES TO JAIL! THIS IS THE COUNTRY'S PATROL!"
Moon froze. The voices were clear. Close. She peeked out and saw women being dragged out—naked, hands tied behind their backs.
So that's what this place was. A brothel disguised as a hotel.
She wasn't a prostitute. She was innocent. But none of that mattered now.
She had to run.
She bolted, sprinting past officers in dark red uniforms with gold trim. Their badges glinted under the moonlight.
"Where do you think you're going, little miss?" An older officer stepped in front of her, voice mocking.
She tried to dodge him, heart pounding.
"Catch that prostitute!" he shouted.
They thought she was one of them.
All she wanted was sleep. Peace. A new start.
Faster. Faster. Her mind screamed it.
Her legs gave out as she stumbled into an alleyway, gasping for air. The patrol passed, golden accents flashing as they disappeared into the night.
What a crazy night. She'd probably be on their wanted list by morning.
She slumped to the ground, exhausted. Nearby, a newspaper fluttered in the wind. Its headline read:
A NEED FOR SOLDIERS. THE WAR CONTINUES.