Lucien didn't slow his steps. As far as anyone could tell, he was just another noble youth passing through the slums out of idle curiosity.
He walked past the skinny boy leaning against the alley wall—his figure barely a silhouette, half-swallowed by the choking dust and filth of the crumbling street.
But just as he passed, a bony hand shot out and latched onto his ankle.
"I—I'm sorry!" the boy choked out, voice rasping with desperation. "Please… anything… even scraps. My sister… she—"
Lucien halted.
He looked down at the boy, his expression unreadable, carved from stone. The boy's fingers trembled where they clutched at him, thin arms barely more than skin stretched over bone.
For a long, cold second, Lucien said nothing.
The boy kept his head bowed, shoulders shaking.
Finally, Lucien exhaled softly. A brief, almost imperceptible sigh.
Without ceremony, he reached into his storage ring and pulled out a sealed packet of nutritional bread and a few pieces of mana-infused jerky.
"Take it," he said casually, tossing the bundle toward the boy.
The boy scrambled to catch it, clutching the precious food to his chest like a starving animal.
"Th-thank you!" he gasped, his forehead nearly touching the ground as he bowed over and over again. "Thank you, kind sir! Thank you!"
Lucien didn't reply. He simply turned and continued walking down the dusty path, disappearing into the maze of broken alleyways and sun-bleached wreckage.
---
But he didn't leave.
Silent as a shadow, Lucien melted into the crumbling landscape, tailing the boy from a distance.
He watched without emotion as the boy sprinted through the alleys, weaving past sagging cloths strung for shade, dodging piles of rotting garbage and collapsed beams.
The boy clutched the food tighter, stumbling with exhaustion, but never slowing.
Finally, he reached a half-collapsed thatched cottage, tucked away at the dead end of a narrow lane.
The boy shoved open the rickety wooden door and vanished inside.
Lucien moved closer, silent and unseen, standing near the broken remains of a wall, gaze fixed on the scene within.
---
Inside the shack, the boy dropped to his knees on the cracked, splintering floor.
On a moldy straw mat lay a tiny girl, no more than four years old.
Her small frame shivered violently despite the heavy heat. Her skin was flushed an alarming red, her breath rasping shallow and quick through cracked lips.
The boy knelt beside her, voice trembling.
"El," he whispered, gently shaking her shoulder. "Wake up… I brought food…"
He fumbled with the packet, breaking the bread into tiny crumbs, desperate to feed her even a morsel.
But the girl was too weak. Her lips barely twitched. Her eyelids fluttered, but she couldn't open them.
The boy's hands shook harder.
"Come on," he pleaded, tears welling up. "Just a little… please…"
He pressed a crumb to her mouth, but she didn't respond.
The jerky remained untouched on the floor.
The boy's chest heaved with silent sobs.
"If you stay like this…" he whispered, voice breaking, "…you'll die in two or three days…"
He pulled her frail body into his arms, clutching her tight against his thin chest, as though he could protect her by will alone.
Tears spilled freely down his cheeks, leaving streaks through the grime on his face.
"I—I can't afford a doctor," he whispered into her hair. "No one's willing to treat someone like us. No healer will come here…"
The words caught in his throat.
"I'm sorry," he choked out, rocking back and forth. "I'm so sorry…"
The shack was silent, save for the sound of the boy's broken weeping and the harsh, labored breathing of the child.
---
The door creaked.
The boy's head snapped up, eyes wide with terror.
He spun around, shielding his sister with his body.
Lucien stepped through the doorway, calm and composed, the dying sunlight casting long shadows behind him.
The boy's mouth opened and closed wordlessly. His arms tightened protectively around the small girl.
"...You followed me?" he whispered, voice raw.
Lucien didn't answer.
He simply stood there, his red eyes sweeping over the room—the crumbling walls, the stinking straw mat, the sickly child gasping for breath.
His gaze paused briefly on the boy, on the way he crouched over his sister like a wounded animal ready to fight or flee.
For a moment, nobody moved.
The broken door swung slightly in the wind, creaking on rusted hinges.
The boy pressed back, as if expecting Lucien to strike or steal the food he had just received.
But Lucien stayed still, silent, watching.
Unblinking.
The boy's small body shivered under the weight of that gaze, but he didn't move aside.
He stayed there, shielding his sister with every scrap of strength he had left.
Lucien's face remained emotionless.
He turned, stepping back into the growing dusk without a word.
The boy slumped down, trembling.
And the broken shack was swallowed again by silence.