The Great Freeloader

"That's…"

Mark was caught off guard by the sudden offer. The brunette was much bolder than he thought. Though, he has stayed at her place before.

He threw a dubious look at the smiling woman.

"You aren't joking, right?"

Yet upon hearing his doubt, the brunette frowned.

She turned around indignantly, hastily striding to the door.

'Shoot!'

Though the offer seemed a bit too unrealistic, he wasn't about to give it up.

Mark would much rather spend his morning in a mellow house than wafting his way through an abhorrent mob on a repulsive street.

As the brunette gently opened the creaking door, a sense of urgency invaded his mind.

"Wait!"

She turned around, looking inquisitively at the young bartender.

He was nearly leaning over the counter, his face rapidly turning into a radiant grin.

"It would be wrong to not accept such generosity! Please forgive my foolishness!"

After hearing Mark's graceless plea, the brunette closed the door and returned to the bar with a smile.

"I'm glad to hear that. Now, a drink on the house if you want to enter mine."

Mark's eye twitched.

"You hapless drunk!"

The night earnestly deepened as Mark began to tidy up the place.

Despite everything that had recently happened to him, he felt oddly at ease.

He watched the alcoholic finish her pale-white wine, a pleasant peace emerged from the tranquil silence.

Finishing her final drink, the nameless woman stood up and gestured at Mark to follow.

But he wasn't ready to leave just yet.

"Give me a moment."

She left to wait outside as the bartender looked at the cabinet beneath him.

There was a gun hiding in that spot. The question is if he wanted to bring it to her house.

In all honesty, there wasn't much to fear from the northern district. It simply consisted of well-off people who are managing to sustain a healthy lifestyle in the rotting world. Bringing the firearm would even be risky in such a highly-secured place. Above all, he didn't want the brunette or her parents to see the extent of the darkness lurking within him, nor did he want their impressions of him to be soured.

The gun was like a dirty stain from the loathsome place he lives in.

He had grabbed it, and was about to return the weapon to its hiding spot.

'Treat it as your life…'

Mark paused.

Upon remembering what the gangster had said, he clenched the firearm and quickly stuffed it into the pocket of his windbreaker.

The young man was already too deep in the hood, too far gone to pull himself out. Even if he were to leave the metallic killing machine in the cabinet, Royce could still stumble across it, and the old man was the last person who needed to know.

If the gun truly were a stain, then he might as well make it a useful one!

And so he deftly left the bar and joined the nameless woman. The firearm seemed to emanate a sense of security in its concealed pocked.

"Let's go."

She nodded as they both began walking.

The two beheld the rising moon, reflecting sunlight onto the city in a luminous hue.

Her house came into sight, its sheer size still stunning Mark.

It was amusing when the brunette's father- Jack- came through the hallway to see the return of the bartender. The hopeless father must have felt some regret when he saw the freeloader come back.

But despite some hesitance, the brawny man let the young man stay in the guest room once more. Mark would have been moved by the father's kindness, but he had slightly manipulated the man's emotions.

And no, the shameless young man had no qualms when it came to controlling his benefactor. He did the same to Royce, Aaron, and everyone else he knew. This musclular man- no matter how intimidating, was no different!

With that, he secured a safe night in a homely house. There truly wasn't much more he could've asked for.

The warmth of his surroundings and the cool of his gun blended together into a mellow sensation, sending the young man to sleep with ease.

It took just a moment before the early glow of the rising sun poured into his room, awakening him.

A few knocks sounded on his door, followed by a melodious voice.

"Are you awake?"

He stretched his arms unhurriedly before answering.

"Yeah, I just got up."

"Great, I'll make some food then!"

Mark felt a bit at ease upon hearing something that sounded like free food.

"Sounds good."

With that he yawned and laid back on the bed, wanting to get a few more minutes of sleep.

It wasn't every day that he was freed from the responsibility of feeding himself.

A few seconds passed as a silence settled on the room.

His pillow felt extremely comfortable all of a sudden, as if enticing him to return to its trance.

'Wait a second…'

He flew out of the bed and hastily went through the long hall, eventually reaching the door where a tantalizing aroma spilled out.

Without the slightest hesitance, he entered the kitchen and was greeted with a room no less pristine than Royce's own space. Only a tiny bit smaller.

Mark looked at the brunette dreadfully. It felt as if the crime had already been committed.

"What are you making!?"

She didn't bother looking up, seemingly immersed in the task before her.

"Are you a fan of bacon and eggs? It's apparently a favorite in far-western cuisine."

The young man was stunned. He really had expected the brunette to be up to something again.

"It isn't too bad… you aren't using any super-expensive ingredient. Right?"

She scoffed

"It's bacon and eggs. What can possibly be expensive?"

'True enough.'

With no other worries, Mark turned around and returned to the dining room.

He enjoyed a wonderfully made meal that morning. Somehow the brunette had outdone every other chef he knew, producing yet another masterfully made dish.

Jack soon came for some food. A serving was already made, prompting the old man to join Mark as he ate. The three conversed for a while before they finished the food.

Afterwards, the old man had his daughter leave the house with Mark to accompany her. Apparently there was something about an anniversary, and so the house was exclusive to the parents for the day.

As Mark was closing the door, he heard a despairing shout echo through the grand house.

"Where did my quail eggs go!?!"

He shut the door and hurriedly walked away from the house. Mark threw an incredulous glance at the brunette while she caught up to him.

Right- she wanted him to call her Chloe today… maybe.

"By the way, why does your father look nothing like you?"

Chloe glanced at him, folding her delicate arms behind her back.

"That's because he's not my real father. Well, not my biological one anyway. I'd say that he does the parenting job quite well."

"Ah."

That revalation came a bit too suddenly. He didn't know how exactly to respond.

'How was she able to say that so calmly?'

Her nonchalance was quite impressive, it reminded Mark of the way he felt toward his mother, which is why he was also a bit wary of it.

While he was a bit curious, since she didn't say anything he would simply have to hold himself back from asking.

"Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to put that on you out of nowhere."

Mark shrugged.

"It's fine, not everyone has the best family situation."

In fact, his was in utter shambles! But she doesn't need to know that. What was the saying? Right, ignorance is bliss.

It's better that she knows less about the more unpleasant things in my life.

And so he continued walking with Chloe, shifting the conversation and learning more about her in the process, whether it be her favorite type of music and pastimes, or the places she tends to frequent.

He also manipulated her emotions in the process. It might be wrong to do this in such a fashion, but Mark simply wanted her to feel happy when with him. Maybe this was some habit he got from bartending- making those around him content.

The two wandered around the city and visited a wide variety of shops and places- many of which Mark hadn't visited before. Seeing new sights was truly a wonderful experience. Such was the joy of life.

Rather than confine oneself to the same few substances, exploring and finding unique things was much more satisfying. Whether it be food or books, Mark always followed that principle.

"Hold on, I need to use the restroom."

Mark left the brunette- Chloe- on the street while entering a nearby establishment.

Around a minute or two later, he returned.

And the sight before him was utterly stunning.

Three men surrounded the brunette.

Each of them were well-built and probably belonged to some sort of gang. Their attire and attitudes simply gave it away. They looked ragged and relatively impoverished. And while seeming to be in a gang, none of them had the callousness of an experienced killer; rather, they all looked madly consumed by a lustful drive.

Chloe's innocent peach eyes found Mark amidst the crowd.

A silent plea for help emanated from the pristine pearls.

'Why am I so annoyed by this.'

Ire consumed him, his body a smoldering pyre.

He stepped forward.