The night hung over them like a heavy curtain, thick with silence, broken only by the girl's quiet sobs. Leo sat beside her, his breath uneven, his gaze fixed on the rickety door as if expecting it to burst open at any moment. The world outside had turned merciless, a beast with no conscience, and he wondered how he would ever find his place in it again.
He cast a glance at the girl curled up beside him. Her small frame trembled with each stifled sob, her tears carving silent pathways down her dirt-streaked cheeks. He inhaled deeply, dragging his fingers through his unkempt hair before speaking, his voice low and rough.
"Listen, kid," he murmured, his words edged with exhaustion. "I pulled you out of that mess, but don't expect much else from me. You're going to have to figure things out on your own."
She didn't answer. She didn't even acknowledge his words. Instead, her tears fell harder, her shoulders shaking as if the weight of the world had settled upon them. Her silence unsettled him. There was something about the way she wept—unrestrained yet soundless, as if she were drowning in sorrow too deep to voice. He wanted to tell her to stop, to keep quiet before grief swallowed them both, but he knew better. He knew the cruel emptiness of loss, the way it gnawed at the soul and left nothing behind but echoes of what once was.
The night passed in uneasy stillness, the walls of the abandoned house offering them little more than a fragile illusion of safety. Fear remained their constant companion, lurking just beyond the threshold, whispering its cold reminders that war did not sleep.
By dawn, the dim light crept through the cracks in the walls, painting their makeshift refuge in shades of pale gold and grey. Leo stirred, his body aching from the hard ground. As he moved, he felt a weight against his side. He turned his head slightly—there she was, curled against him, her frail body nestled into his as though he were the last solid thing in her crumbling world.
For a moment, something twisted inside him, an old pain he had long since buried. But he shook it off. He reached out, nudging her shoulder gently.
"Hey," he said, his voice softer than he intended. "Wake up."
She stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. For a few seconds, her gaze was distant, lost in the fog of sleep. Then, as her eyes met his, a flicker of confusion crossed her face. She blinked, as though trying to piece together where she was, who he was, and why—despite everything—she was still alive.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and distant smoke. Leo glanced down at the girl, her tiny fingers curled around the fabric of her tattered dress. She had barely spoken since waking, but there was something in her eyes—something fragile yet stubborn, like a flickering flame refusing to be extinguished.
"Come on," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "I'm taking you somewhere safe."
She didn't ask where. Maybe she didn't care. Maybe she had already learned that in a world like this, questions were pointless.
They walked in silence, their footsteps muffled by the dust-covered ground, until they reached a towering wooden door. It loomed before them, worn by time yet still imposing, as if guarding something precious. Leo placed a steady hand on the girl's shoulder and turned her toward it.
"Knock," he instructed. "Someone will answer. Tell them your story, and they'll take you in."
She hesitated, her small fingers hovering just inches from the rough wood. Did she even have a story to tell? Her life had been a series of shattered moments, of stolen warmth and fading echoes. But then she saw something in Leo's eyes—certainty, perhaps even the faintest glimmer of hope. That was enough.
She knocked.
A moment passed. Then another. Finally, the door creaked open, and light spilled out, illuminating her delicate face. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—this was the beginning of something better.
But then, a woman stepped into view.
Her face was hardened by exhaustion, her eyes dull with resentment. She barely glanced at the girl before scowling.
"Another one?" she snapped. "Damn it, we can't keep taking in these pests."
The girl flinched at the venom in her voice, but before she could speak, the woman's gaze flicked past her and landed on Leo in the distance.
"I see the boy who brought you here. Go with him," she said coldly, and with that, the door slammed shut.
The sound echoed through the empty street like a gunshot.
The girl stood frozen, her small hands clutching at the hem of her dress, her breath caught somewhere between disbelief and fear. For a long time, she had known hunger, cold, and sorrow—but rejection? That was a wound of a different kind.
Leo watched from afar, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails bit into his skin. Wasn't this supposed to be a refuge? A sanctuary for lost children? How could they turn away a six-year-old girl as if she were nothing?
The girl turned, searching for him, her eyes wide, desperate. And in that moment, she realized—he was gone.
Panic surged through her like ice. She sucked in a sharp breath, her chest rising and falling unevenly. Alone. Again.
But before the weight of loneliness could fully crush her, strong arms lifted her off the ground.
It was him.
Leo held her tightly, his grip protective, unyielding. Anger flared in his eyes as he turned back toward the door, his jaw clenched.
"How could they do this?" he muttered, his voice low, dangerous.
The girl buried her face against his chest, her tiny fingers clutching at his shirt. She didn't need a door. She didn't need a building called a shelter.
For the first time, she realized—she had already found her refuge.
The warmth of his arms around her was unfamiliar but comforting. She could feel his protection, a silent shield against the cruelty of the world. Despite everything—despite the rejection, the loneliness, the fear—someone was here. Someone had chosen not to leave.
"You didn't leave me, did you?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, her eyes glistening with something rare—hope.
Leo stiffened slightly, caught off guard by the weight of her words. He looked down at her, his expression unreadable. A storm raged inside him, a battle between instinct and conscience.
What do I do now? he wondered. Should I leave her somewhere safe? Disappear while she's asleep?
The idea gnawed at him. He had always been a survivor, doing whatever it took to make it through another day. He wasn't meant to be anyone's guardian. And yet, here she was, clutching onto him like he was the only solid thing left in her world.
They walked in silence, the crumbling city stretching endlessly before them.
The air was thick with the scent of dust and decay, the streets lined with the skeletal remains of buildings long abandoned. Then, something caught Leo's eye—a torn poster clinging to a cracked wall.
He stopped abruptly.
His breath hitched.
His pulse pounded.
Impossible.
His gaze locked onto the image printed on the paper, barely daring to believe what he saw. Her. The same wide eyes, the same delicate features, captured in faded ink. And beneath it, bold letters spelled out what seemed like a miracle:
"Twenty thousand Krull for the safe return of the child."
His grip on the girl tightened.
Is this really her? His mind reeled. The exhaustion, the uncertainty, the burden of survival—all of it blurred into the background. This is it. This is my chance.
Joy—sharp, unexpected—twisted inside him, colliding with disbelief. His fingers trembled as he pulled his coat around her, shielding her from prying eyes. His breath came fast, uneven.
"Twenty thousand Krull…" he murmured under his breath, his lips curling into something between a grin and a smirk. "Life is finally smiling at me."
Without another word, he turned, his pace quickening.
The girl, oblivious to the shift in his demeanor, simply held on, trusting him.
Leo made his way to the only place he could call home—a skeleton of a house, its walls barely standing, its roof half collapsed. He pushed through the broken doorway, moving into the shadows. The girl remained in his arms as he settled into the corner, his back against the cold stone.
With careful hands, he pulled the poster from his pocket, smoothing out its torn edges. He studied the picture again, his eyes darting between the ink and the real child curled against him.
It was her.
No doubt.
A laugh—quiet at first, then fuller—escaped his lips.
Relief. Excitement. Victory.
"I'm going to be rich," he whispered, the words tasting sweet on his tongue.
The shadows had thickened as night settled over the city, wrapping the streets in a blanket of secrecy and silence. Leo's mind, too, was cloaked in darkness, weighed down by a singular thought. This is it. Tonight, I'll get what I've been waiting for. He could feel the girl's presence beside him, small and fragile, yet in his mind, she had already been reduced to a mere object—a valuable prize.
"This girl is worth a fortune…" Leo muttered under his breath as he walked, his heart beating faster with each step. His thoughts were consumed by one clear vision: I'll sell her. I'll become rich. The humanity that had once stirred inside him was slipping away, piece by piece, like a distant memory fading into the abyss. He no longer saw her as a child, only as a transaction. A means to an end.
He reached the tavern, its dimly lit windows glowing faintly in the night. The place had an air of secrecy, its patrons no strangers to dealings in shadows. Leo slid through the back door, keeping to the darkness, his footsteps soft but purposeful. He approached the tavern owner, who was leaning against the bar, talking to the bartender. Leo leaned in close, his voice low, barely a whisper.
"I found the girl," he said, his words cutting through the quiet like a knife. "And I want to exchange her for money."
The tavern owner's expression shifted instantly, from casual indifference to a sharp interest. His eyes flicked to the bartender, who nodded subtly before heading toward Leo. The bartender's face was unreadable, his movements deliberate.
"This way, sir," he said, his tone smooth but carrying an undercurrent of something far darker. "We hope the exchange goes smoothly."
Leo didn't hesitate. The girl, oblivious to the danger, clung to his leg, her small fingers gripping his pant leg as they descended into the cellar. Her trust in him was unwavering, but she didn't know the truth. She didn't know that she was walking into a place that could swallow her whole.
The cellar was cold, damp, and filled with the faint, acrid smell of smoke and old wood. At the far end of the room sat a man in a shadowed corner, his bulk filling the chair like a mountain of flesh. He was smoking a pipe, the smoke swirling around him in eerie tendrils. When he looked up at Leo, his gaze was cold, calculating.
"Are you sure it's her?" the man asked, his voice a low growl, thick with menace.
Leo hesitated, suddenly unsure. His fingers twitched nervously, and his breath caught in his throat. He stammered, "I think... Yes, I think it's her." His voice faltered under the weight of the man's gaze.
The man leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. Without a word, one of his assistants moved toward the girl. She flinched, her eyes wide with confusion and fear. She tugged harder at Leo's leg, her voice trembling as she called out in a soft, desperate whisper, "Daddy… Daddy…"
Leo's heart twisted, but he shoved the feeling aside, masking it with cold indifference. He wasn't her father. Not really. But the word rang in his ears, stinging more than he expected.
Before he could react, a sharp kick to his chest sent him stumbling back. The fat man's face twisted into a mask of fury, his eyes dark with something far worse than anger. He grabbed Leo by the chin, lifting his face to meet his own.
"Did you bring your daughter to sell her to me?" the man snarled, each word dripping with contempt.
Leo's throat tightened. He tried to speak, but his words were caught in his chest. "No... I swear I don't know her," he protested, but the blows kept coming, each one harder than the last. The force of the hits sent stars flashing in front of his eyes, but before he could collapse, a voice interrupted.
"Sir," the bartender said, stepping forward with a sense of urgency, "the seal is present."
The fat man's gaze snapped to the back of the girl's neck. Leo followed his gaze, though his mind raced with confusion. What seal?
There, just beneath the girl's hair, was a small, distinctive mark—a four-star seal. It wasn't a mere tattoo or birthmark. No, this mark was something else entirely. It was a symbol of purity, of lineage, a sign of something far greater than Leo had realized. The man's fury faltered as he leaned closer, his eyes narrowing.
The bartender nodded gravely.
The fat man's voice was almost reverent as he spoke. "A Kinner Star," he murmured, his words laced with awe. "A pure bloodline, untouched by mixed blood."
Leo's stomach churned with the realization, but the words meant nothing to him compared to the shock that was slowly dawning on him. This girl... she wasn't just a prize. She was something much more valuable.
The man's assistant stepped back, a slow grin spreading across his face. The room shifted, and Leo's entire world seemed to tilt on its axis.
He had been on the verge of selling a child, but now… now he realized he was holding something far more dangerous, far more precious than gold.