Hearts Of A Demi God
In a dimly lit alley, where shadows danced with the flickering streetlights, a mysterious figure appeared, shrouded in the smell of alcohol and fatigue. "You're quite the slacker I see, young'un," he drawled, his weathered features reflecting a life on the edge.
I sighed, scraping up the fallen pizza from the grimy pavement. "Well, there's nothing in this world that seems to make me want to give it my all," I retorted, my voice tinged with resignation.
The man smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I see, huh? You're already in that age too..."
Standing up, I met his gaze squarely. "I've always been this way ever since I was born. I learned not to expect much in this world, so there's no point giving much anyway."
With a chuckle, he patted me on the shoulder. "Hahaha, that's probably just you being lazy, y'know? The amount of effort you give is the amount you get, that's the law of equivalent exchange after all," he quipped, vanishing away into the darkness.
But to me, life was never about balance or equal exchange. It was a relentless torrent of hardship and struggle, devoid of fairness or justice.
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