I still remember that day.
The eyes filled with disgust and pity… even now, the memory makes my own eyes sting with tears. It has been three days since I ran away from the only home I ever knew—the same day I turned sixteen.
As tears blurred my vision, I found myself smiling, recalling the famous words of Mark Forisen: "Life is all about consequences."
And yet, deep down, I knew…
No matter how far I ran, a part of me would always be looking back.
It seemed I had finally arrived at Krelgen—a city in the far north of the country. A place far, far away from my home.
No one would find me here.
The wagon came to a halt in front of a worn tavern. One by one, the passengers climbed down, stretching and muttering among themselves. I stayed seated, lost in my thoughts, staring at nothing.
"Oi, boy! You getting off or not?"
The driver's voice snapped me back. I stepped down slowly.
"Payment," he said, extending his hand.
I reached into the small pouch I carried and pulled out a gold coin.
The man's expression shifted. "Young master… I don't have change for this."
"So? What do we do?" I asked.
He scratched his chin, then gestured. "Come with me. We'll get it changed."
I hesitated for a moment… then nodded.
We crossed the road and turned into a narrow alley. The noise of the street faded behind us, replaced by an uneasy silence.
After a few steps, I spoke, "How much do we—"
A sudden force slammed into my stomach.
My breath vanished.
For a moment… I felt nothing.
Then—
Pain.
A crushing, burning pain spread through my body as I collapsed to the ground. My lungs refused to work. My vision blurred.
It hurt.
It hurt.
It hurt.
I had never felt anything like this before.
It felt like death.
Another kick slammed into my stomach—harder than the last.
The pain exploded through me.
My vision blurred, the world twisting and fading at the edges. I tried to breathe, but nothing came. My body refused to listen.
Everything felt distant.
Heavy.
Cold.
And then…
The pain dragged my consciousness into darkness.