The next morning

Alaric woke slowly.

His senses returned one by one—

the smell of dust, the sting of faint sunlight through cracked windows, the pressure of bandages on his skin.

And the soft sound of breathing.

He opened his eyes.

His purple-reddish gaze landed immediately on the small figure curled in the corner.

Pihu.

She sat with her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Her head was down, as if she was afraid even to breathe too loudly. Her clothes were slightly damp—probably from washing them in cold water. Her hair was messy. Her tiny body looked even smaller than last night.

But she was awake.

Watching him.

Afraid of him.

Alaric exhaled slowly, his voice low, deep, cold.

“Why are you still here?”

Pihu flinched as if stabbed.

She lifted her gaze just enough to see him but not enough to meet his eyes.

“I… I live here…” she whispered.

Alaric frowned.

This building? This ruined, half-dead place?

“No one lives here.”

She swallowed hard. “I-I do.”

He pushed himself up a little, his eyes narrowing.

“Why?”

That single word made her tremble. He could sense it—the fear that lived under her skin like a trapped animal.

She didn’t want to tell him.

He saw the panic in her eyes.

But she also thought… if she stayed silent…

he would beat her like the others did.

Her voice cracked.

“B-because I ran away from home…”

Alaric’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

He wanted to hear every word.

“I—I didn’t want to,” she continued, voice breaking. “But they… they used to… hurt me. Every day. I thought I would die if I stayed.”

Her fingers clenched on her dress.

Tears filled her eyes but didn’t fall—like she was scared even to cry in front of someone.

“So I came here. I thought… maybe I can stay hidden… and work somewhere… and be safe.”

Alaric watched her silently.

The coldest man alive, the king of shadows, the monster others ran from… sat perfectly still.

Listening.

Her pain awakened something dark and violent inside him.

A desire to destroy the people who broke this fragile creature.

A Month passes

Alaric regained his strength within days.

But he didn’t tell her.

He wanted to see her.

To see if she would stay.

If she would care.

If she would abandon him the moment she got tired.

She never did.

Every day she washed his wounds with trembling hands.

Every day she brought him the food she could afford.

Bread.

Cheap soup.

Sometimes only half a biscuit.

And always—

she pushed her portion toward him.

“You need it more… to recover,” she whispered.

He clenched his jaw every time she did that.

Tiny. Exhausted.

Starving slowly…

yet giving him food.

No one had ever done that for him.

No one.

Even when she was weak enough to faint, she still brushed his hair from his forehead and said softly:

“You will get better… I know you will…”

Alaric watched her in silence.

Memorizing her.

Her softness.

Her innocence.

Her breaking body that still moved to help him.

She did not ask for anything.

Not once.

She never complained.

Never questioned him.

Never doubted him.

Even when she had one dollar left, she still placed a small piece of bread beside him and said:

“Please eat… you must be strong…”

He stared at that tiny offering for a long time.

This girl…

This innocent, fragile little thing…

She had suffered enough.

And she was his now.

Whether she knew it or not.

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