Cwal stood beside the glass casing, close enough that his breath fogged it faintly.
Mary did not move. If not for the slow rise of her chest, she could have been part of the display.
He spoke without turning.
"I came from a small family," he said. "Just me and my mother."
His palm rested against the glass, fingers spread.
"Just me and my mother. No name, no lineage worth mentioning. When they learned she was unawakened, everyone would now treat us like garbage ."
"It got worse when my mother tried to find work. They would refuse to hire someone who could not awaken, saying the most basic stereotype, like she was unreliable, dangerous, or a burden. None of them would say it to her face, but she is not dumb enough not to notice it."
Leaves rustled above us.
"Then they saw us starting to crumble, they increased the pressure. Our landlord raised the rent twice in one month. The baker charged us more than everyone else."
