Chương 2: A Deadbeat City

A young man was lying on a ragged bed, staring up at the ceiling with tired eyes. He had light brown hair sticking up at odd angles from the pillow, and a stark white streak cutting through the left side from his temple to the ends. His amber eyes were open but unfocused, carrying a dull, lifeless quality to them. His face could be considered handsome, but in a rather unremarkable way, the type of features you forget after a while. His name was Lionardo Carnetion, though he went by Lio.

There was a water stain directly above him, shaped vaguely like a bird. Or maybe it was a hand. Or a tree? It changed depending on how long he stared at it. He'd been staring at it for a long time now.

"..." I should move. The thought arrived, but his body didn't respond. It wasn't that he couldn't, it was just that the idea of moving felt so monumentally exhausting that he might as well have been asked to lift a whole mountain. Get up. But why? The question bubbled up, and he had no answer for it. He knew logically there were things he needed to do. But knowing something needed to be done and caring enough to do it were two entirely different things. His arms lay motionless at his sides.

Even when he commanded them to move, they didn't. It was like his brain was sending signals into an empty void and getting absolutely nothing back. Just sit up. Lio kept staring at the water stain. It looked like a hand now, reaching down toward him. Maybe it would grab him by his throat and lift him somewhere far, far away, a place where he could nestle among the soft ground and take a deep, eternal sleep… The hand reminded him of someone. What was her name again? Oh right, it was Nem— C'mon, Rion's waiting.

The thought struck him awake, startling him from his daydreams and lighting up a small glint of emotion in his dead eyes. But even that didn't have the power to move him. After all, Rion was always waiting. He would keep waiting whether Lio got up now or in five minutes or just never at all. And if he did get up, then he would have to go down there again. Down into Ghenna. That fact seemed to sit in his mind like stones at the bottom of a river, dragging him down and making him immobile.

I don't want to do this anymore. Ah, but 'wanting' had never mattered, had it? Move. This time, Lio's right hand responded, as it clenched into a fist, bunching the thin fabric of the sheets beneath them. He continued, tensing his shoulder and neck muscles as his torso lifted an inch off the mattress. And then he was sitting up. He sat there for a moment, staring at the opposite wall with a vacant expression.

And then he began standing up, his feet sliding off the edge of the mattress and touching the cold wooden floor. Straightening, Lio looked around the room. It was rather small, barely ten feet across, with walls that had probably been white once but had faded to a dingy grey-yellow. The plaster was cracked and peeling in places where the moisture had seeped through, while the ceiling sagged slightly in the middle, the water stains from the room upstairs spread across it.

The floor was made of rough wooden planks that scratched at his bare feet. To the right, the room's lone window was narrow, with a tiny, crooked, and old frame. The glass was grimy, and through it, he could make out the vague shapes of the other cramped tenements across the narrow alley. His bed sat against the left wall, and against the opposite wall was a small, worn-down cabinet. Inside were his spare clothes. Next to it was a pile of clothes he hadn't bothered putting away, crumpled in a gigantic smelly heap.

Lio stood there in his sleep clothes—a pair of loose pants and a worn undershirt—and stared into nothing for a moment. Then his feet began to automatically carry him toward the front door. The floorboards creaked under his weight as he moved forward in autopilot mode. His hand reached for the door handle, the iron cold against his palm. Then he pulled it open and stepped out into the hallway. ◈◈◈◈ The hallway was barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side.

The walls were the same dingy grey-yellow as his room, and the floorboards beneath him creaked and groaned loudly, sounding as if it was going to fall apart at any moment. He walked toward the stairs at the end of the hall, his bare feet making soft muffled sounds against the worn wood. No one else was out, as it was still early in the morning. Or maybe it wasn't? Lio realized that he had forgotten to check the time before he headed out. Oh well.

The stairs were steep and narrow, almost a death trap if someone slipped. The railings offered no reassurance either, with several places having iron bolts that had worked themselves loose from the wall. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Still, Lio descended quickly, using the walls for support. Then he pushed through the building's front door and stepped out onto the street.

To anyone that was listening normally, the noise of the city would have been overwhelming. This place—Crater City—was awake, and it was definitely loud about it. Voices shouted from every direction. There were vendors calling out their wares, people haggling over prices with passive aggressiveness, and children shrieking and giggling as they chased each other through the narrow streets with the boundless energy of youth. A symphony of carts rattled over the uneven cobblestones.

Somewhere nearby, a dog was barking and howling. Everyone around was moving like the streams of an angry river. Walking, running, pushing past each other. The street was packed to the brim with people trying to get somewhere or be something. But to Lio, all of it sounded muffled, like someone had wrapped the entire world in a thick cloth. The sounds were there, technically, but they felt distant and dull, like he was listening to everything from underwater.

He couldn't remember when it had started, this uncanny feeling of disconnection and separation. Everything felt 'grey' to him. It wasn't like the world had turned into the color grey, but more like someone had drained the color, volume, and joy out of the world and left behind only a muted, washed-out version. For a moment, Lio just stood there in his loose sleep pants and worn undershirt, his bare feet cold against the cobblestones.

He was a definite outlier, looking like he'd just rolled out of bed and wandered outside without thinking much about it. Which, to be fair, was exactly what had happened. And it didn't take long for people to notice. A middle-aged woman carrying a basket of wilted root vegetables slowed down as she passed, her eyes looking him over from head to toe. Her lip curled in disgust, and gave him a wide berth. Lio couldn't blame her.

He looked exactly like what she probably thought he was: some slum kid from the lower districts. She probably believed he was harboring countless dangerous diseases. He watched her hurry away. Then he turned, and started walking down the street. I better get started. His bare feet moved automatically, carrying him forward on the familiar route he had walked about a couple hundred times. People moved out of his way as he walked, though not out of politeness.

Like the woman, they were probably scared of the diseases a kid that looked like he was from the slums was carrying. That was one of the few benefits that came with Lio's appearance. As he turned into an alley and out into another street, the mood changed drastically. This was a rougher part of town, and the general chaos of the main streets quickly faded away. The people here weren't too friendly here either, and they were more open about it. An old man clutching a bottle of liquor spat at Lio as he passed.

The glob of saliva and phlegm hit the road right where Lio's foot would have landed, but he sidestepped it easily, continuing forward as if nothing had happened. Up ahead, a brick building was squatted between two taller tenements. A faded sign hung above the door, though the words had been worn away by rain and age until only a few illegible letters remained. There was warm yellow light spilling out from grimy windows, and with it came the sound of male voices laughing and shouting. A bar.

Lio walked toward the door without slowing, and quickly pulled it open. The pungent smell hit him immediately. Sharp and sour alcohol, mixed with the stink of unwashed bodies that probably hadn't seen a bath in weeks. Cigarette smoke hung in the air like a thick fog, covering everything. The bar was packed to the brim. Men, young and old, were crowded around tables in various states of drunkenness, their faces flushed red and eyes glassy. Most looked like they'd been here since yesterday.

There were a few women scattered among them, but they all looked half-dead, drowning in drugs and hallucinations. Lio stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind him. As he moved through the bar, he caught fragments of the conversations the men were having from every direction. A table next to him erupted in laughter as someone finished telling a story.

"So I says t'her, 'ya wanna eat t'night? Then shut yer fuckin' mouth an' do what yer told!'" Another slurred and enthusiastic voice chimed in, "Yeah, gotta put women in their place! Y'know, my neighbor's daughter just turned eighteen. I saw her ass hauling water yesterday and fuck, I'd pay good coin for—""You'd have to, ugly as you are!" There was a round of roaring laughter. At the next table, two older men were hunched over their drinks, their ruddy faces red and drooping.

"... I'm tellin' you, Lilith Tynker was goin' into Ghenna. My cousin works the gate, he'd know."

"The Princess don't descend this time around," the other man drawled, rolling his eyes.

"There's bad air on the lower floors this time'a year."

"Well, she did." The first man took a long drink from his cup.

"They sayin' she's pushing for Floor 38 this time. Thirty-eight!"

"Princess will probably manage to do it," his companion muttered.

"What's her rune again?"

"Something to do with her fuckin' eyes." The man shook his head slowly.

"The girl started Delving when she was fifteen y'know, the same age as my boy."

"Your boy can barely climb a ladder without pissin' himself."

"That's beside the fuckin' point—" Lio walked past them, his face emotionless, eyes fixed on the back corner where he could hear the telltale sounds of a gambling game that was going on. Then someone stumbled backwards from their table, drunk and unsteady, and collided directly into Lio's path. Lio's shoulder caught the man's arm, jostling him enough that the ale sloshed out of his mug and onto his shirt.

"The fuck—" The man whirled around, his face red and breath smelling of alcohol and drugs. He was big, reminding Lio of a pig, with his thick arms and a bulging stomach that strained against his soiled shirt. His eyes were bloodshot and glazed.

"Watch where you're fuckin' going, boy!" Lio didn't respond or even look at him. Instead, his gaze stayed fixed on the back of the room.

"Hey!" The man's voice rose, drawing attention from nearby tables.

"I'm talking to you, barefoot!" Lio stepped around him, paying no mind. The man's hand shot out and grabbed Lio's shoulder.

"Don't you walk away from me, you little shit—" A few people at nearby tables turned to watch, sensing that something was about to happen. Unfortunately for them, Lio wasn't planning on giving them any entertainment. He just kept walking. The man's voice rose behind him, still shouting, but it soon faded into the background noise. The guy was simply far too drunk to follow him. Lio's steps slowed as he reached the back corner, his eyes fixing on what he'd come here for.

Here, a crowd had gathered around a crude wooden table. They were louder than the rest of the bar, shouting and cheering as a wooden wheel marked with X's and O's spun and clattered around. A roulette table. Lio stopped at the edge of the crowd just as the wheel landed on an O and the crowd groaned. The dealer—an older man with grey stubble and sharp—swept the coins away with efficiency into a small corner. He gave a toothy grin.

"Who else wanna place bets, huh? C'mon, don't be shy now." Lio raised a hand, as did a few other men. The dealer quickly moved from man to man, snatching coins and counting stacks, writing the bets onto the table with a charcoal pencil. But when he reached Lio, he paused. His eyes narrowed as they traveled up and down, taking in the bare feet, the wrinkled sleep clothes, and the general appearance of someone who'd just rolled out of bed.

"You want in?" His tone was skeptical.

"The entry fees's 5 silver Rels."

"I'll pay," Lio replied in a flat voice.

"Yeah? With what?" The dealer crossed his arms.

"I don't see any coins on ya, boy." A few heads began turning and looking over, conversations dying down as people sensed that something interesting was about to happen. The dealer waited, his eyebrows raised in a mix of amusement and impatience. Lio just stared back at him with those flat, dead amber eyes.

"If I lose," he said in that same toneless voice, "I'll sell you my body."