"I can't!" Muyang stubbornly plopped down on the ground, grabbing rubble like a toddler.
They stared at each other in silence for a while, Marshall's mouth opening in disbelief. "How old are you? Four?"
The boy crossed his arms, turning his face away with a grumble, "Fourteen."
Marshall was about to rip his own hair out. It wasn't like he could just leave the boy there, but he couldn't bring him along either, yet, apparently, it was not possible to get him to return to the tower either.
The disciple dropped into a crouching position next to the boy with a resigned groan. A stubborn fist returned to wrinkle the fabric on Marshall's sleeve again. "Please... Let me come with you... I really don't want to stay alone in the tower. I'll listen to everything you say, I swear!"
The hopeful eyes were burning a hole in Marshall's forehead. He briefly considered it. Chara town was full of friendly elderly ladies who would have taken the kid off his hands like fresh meat at a low price. It should have been safe. As long as Muyang entered the safe zone, he would have been fine.
"Please," Muyang tugged harder, his voice raising with despair. "Marshall!"
He shook the kid off. "Hush! Don't draw attention to us! Are you asking for more demons to appear?"
Since Marshall hadn't immediately told him no this time, Muyang leaned in with an expectant look on his face. It almost seemed like the boy could've launched into the sky like a squealing firework any moment.
"Fine. But you better listen to me like you promised. And keep your voice down until we reach the town," Marshall told him.
A grin of victory spread across Muyang's face, full of delight. It seemed that the fireworks had exploded behind his eyes instead, the sparkly eyes almost blinding the disciple.
"Stop looking at me like that," Marshall muttered, giving the boy a hefty pat on the back. "Aren't you too old to throw a tantrum to get your way?"
The boy shrugged, not a sliver of shame behind the eager gaze. "As long as I get to come along, the methods don't matter."
Marshall scoffed, standing up. "Does Wyn let you hang off his sleeves like that too?"
"I don't do it to him," Muyang casually replied, bouncing up from the ground.
"Of course, you don't," the disciple muttered under his breath.
They walked to Chara town side by side in silence for a few minutes, until Muyang decided that dragging Marshall left and right like a rag doll was allowed. Only once Marshall lost his patience, Muyang settled down.
But not even five minutes later, he opened his mouth again, "I can tell you some funny stories about my brother! There are a lot of those from when Wyn was younger! Do you want to hear?"
"Didn't I tell you to keep your voice down?" Marshall repeated, unable to keep up with the excitement.
Muyang nodded energetically. "Right, right! Ahem..." He lowered his voice, nudging the disciple, "So, should I keep going?"
Marshall glanced at him from the corner of his eye skeptically, "If I say no, will you stop?"
"I will not," the boy shamelessly said, not allowing space for silence. "Now, hear this! There was this one time when Wyn was around sixteen... I snuck into his room and found..."
➳ ➳ ➳
By the time Marshall and Muyang entered the abandoned building of Nai Eatery, for better or for worse, the boy had talked every thought inside Marshall's head to death. He even caught himself wondering who would have won in a talking match between Sun Hayden and Muyang.
They entered the scorched restaurant, kicking some broken stools aside. Marshall moved through the dust and grime, trying to assess whether the place was fit for living, at least just temporarily.
"Are we staying here?" Muyang cast an unenthusiastic glance around, his cheerful mood souring.
"You're not. I am," Marshall responded, grabbing the broom from the corner. "Go to the safe zone. I told you already, this is as far as I can go."
"But we're already inside the safe zone," Muyang mentioned, as if it was obvious.
Marshall turned around, stunned, "What?"
"The safe zone was extended. The entire Chara town is protected by the barrier now. We crossed it already. Did you not notice?" the boy raised an eyebrow at him.
The disciple thought back to their trip, but failed to recall seeing the spiritual barrier. He ran a hand over his face. Why hadn't he noticed it?
"Either way, go deeper into the town. You can't stay with me," Marshall noted.
"Why not?"
"Because it's not safe. How many times do I have to repeat myself?"
Muyang snorted. "You just sounded exactly like Wyn! Did he..." he started, but his voice faded into the background as Marshall swiped the broom over the ground.
A monstrous cloud of dust and ash flew up, and the boy bolted out, peering in from the doorway. "Isn't inhaling that bad for you?"
Marshall remained inside, covering his face with his arm as he waited for the dust to settle. "I won't die from it," his voice came out muffled against his sleeve. He tried again, gentle sweeps scratching the ground.
The sound of lighthearted chatter floated through the air, reaching into the restaurant. Marshall lifted his head and Muyang turned to look at the approaching people.
"What's that boy doing there?" an elderly voice reached them.
Marshall recognized the speaker. It was Miss Evelyn, the owner of a fresh produce garden. He had helped her with chores here and there while loitering around the town.
Another familiar voice said, "Isn't that Muyang?" It was Mrs. Edith, the owner of this burnt-down place. Marshall felt his face relax. She was alive, thank the heavens.
"Hello!" Muyang exclaimed, bowing his head in a greeting.
Miss Evelyn peeked inside, spotting Marshall. "Oh, Marshie! What are you doing in there?"
"Hello. Nothing special, don't mind me," Marshall bowed his head with a light smile before returning to the task at hand. The broom hissed against the dirty ground, flinging up more dust with every stroke.
"Oh, dear, get out of there," Miss Evelyn reached in, waving at him to leave. "You'll get sick from all the dirt! If you need a place to stay, come to my garden. I will clear a room out for you kids! Just like the old times."
"That's alright," Marshall tried to refuse, but Muyang interjected, "Can we?"
Miss Evelyn gave him a nod, "Of course." She looked back to Marshall, "Come on, now, don't be stubborn. Accept the kindness while it's being offered."
The disciple sent Muyang a reprimanding look, but the kid didn't seem bothered in the slightest. "What? She said she'll clear a room for us. I don't want to sleep in an abandoned building."
Mrs. Edith agreed, "Marshie, it's not livable. Even I had to leave Nai Eatery behind. I live with the welder now."
Marshall took a good look around, his eyes gliding over the burnt interior, then stared at Muyang, thinking.
Miss Evelyn's garden was perfect for young spirits—as long as the gardening work was done, she allowed kids to have sleepovers in her house. It might have been a good plan to tag along to drop off Muyang at a safe place. Then Marshall could sneak off to look for another place.
That sounded like a good plan at the moment.