In Kael's world, corruption wasn't a flaw in the system.
It was the system.
He was born and raised in High Sky, a forgotten town lost among gray mountains and dry, dusty roads. There, life was worth nothing.
There, every person bore on their skin the mark of their sentence: a number tattooed on their forearm that dictated their place in the social pyramid.
Kael bore the "1," the lowest stratum.
Being a "One" meant having no rights.
No education.
No future.
Only hunger, debt, and resignation.
---
That morning, standing before a cracked mirror, Kael adjusted a black suit. It wasn't elegant, but it was clean, and in High Sky, that was enough to fake a sense of dignity.
He looked himself in the eyes.
Empty.
Tired.
But still alive.
"One more day," he muttered, dabbing some cheap cologne on his neck.
He slipped on his worn-out shoes and stepped outside, closing the door with a long, resigned sigh.
---
The bicycle shop was a few streets away. The shopkeeper, an old man with a weathered face, greeted him without lifting his eyes from the newspaper.
"The usual?" he asked.
"Yeah. How much today?"
The man snorted.
"One hundred liros."
Kael frowned.
"One hundred? Wasn't it sixty, two days ago?"
"The governor raised the taxes. They screw me over too, kid."
Kael clenched his teeth. Arguing would be a waste of time. He took out the coins and handed them over.
"Here you go..."
He grabbed the bicycle and set off, the cold wind slicing against his skin.
---
The journey was brutal: three hours pedaling across deserted, fog-shrouded roads.
The world seemed dead. Only mud, rocks, and twisted trees remained.
By the time he reached San Boreal, his legs were trembling from the effort.
He had barely chained the bicycle to a rusted pole when a rough voice called out to him.
"Kael! You're late, you damn slacker!"
His boss, a sweaty man with a cruel gaze, looked at him with disdain.
Kael lowered his head.
"It was just a few minutes..."
"One hundred liros off today!" the man spat with a disgusting smile. "Learn not to keep me waiting."
Kael clenched his fists, but all he could manage was:
"Yes, sir..."
He headed to the fruit and vegetable stand, where he would work twelve hours without rest.
---
At nightfall, with his body broken and stomach empty, he retrieved his bicycle and began the long journey back.
But that night, misfortune awaited him.
On a lonely stretch of road, a man emerged from the fog and struck him with a brutal kick.
Kael fell to the ground, pain burning in his knees.
The thief jumped onto the bicycle and disappeared into the darkness.
Kael tried to chase after him, but his legs gave out.
He collapsed onto the cold earth, pounding the ground with his fists.
"Damn you! Damn this shitty world!"
His voice was swallowed by the night.
---
He kept walking, limping, until a blood-curdling scream stopped him.
A desperate cry.
The sound came from the woods alongside the road.
He could have ignored it. He could have kept walking, pretending he hadn't heard.
But no.
Something stronger than fear forced him to move.
He stepped into the darkness.
And then he saw it.
A burly man was mercilessly beating a woman lying on the ground. She could barely lift her arms to shield herself.
"Please! Someone!" she sobbed.
Kael looked around and found a thick stick.
He grabbed it, feeling the wood creak in his hands.
"Hey, you bastard! Leave her alone!"
The attacker turned, furious.
Without hesitation, he dropped the woman, drew a knife from his belt, and charged at Kael.
"You got into something you shouldn't have, idiot."
Kael stepped back, but when the man lunged to stab him, Kael threw himself forward and, in a desperate act, struck him on the head with all his strength.
A dull thud.
The man dropped to his knees, then collapsed face-first into the dirt, motionless.
Kael dropped the stick and, trembling, stepped closer.
He searched for a pulse.
Found nothing.
His throat closed up.
"No... no way..."
He stumbled back, horrified.
Then he saw the tattoo on the attacker's arm: a "3."
Third stratum.
A citizen far more valuable than a "One" like him.
His mind, still reeling, suddenly grasped the full weight of what he had done.
"They're going to execute me..." he whispered, his voice breaking.
He collapsed to his knees, his breath ragged, heart pounding violently in his ears.