CHAPTER 3 The escape part 2

He had just placed the now-empty bottle onto the shelf when the doorbell above the entrance jingled again.

Muscles tensed, he peered around the corner to see a tall figure step into the store, its face hidden beneath the folds of a long coat. The man did not resemble an accidental customer. His movements were too calculated, too deliberate.

Ren's heart pounded in his chest.

Have they found me already?

He ducked low and moved noiselessly toward the door.

But just before he could slip outside, the man turned, his eyes locking onto Ren.

A cold, knowing smile now spread across the man's face.

The air caught in Ren's chest as the tall man stepped farther into the shop, his thick coat grazing the shelves. Deliberately placed footfalls, measured, and too calm for anyone to make a stop at the twenty-four-hour shop.

There was something off with him, the way he made people look around by simply standing, as if air had its back bowed to him.

Ren's instincts screamed for him to run, but his body didn't budge an inch.

Out of sight, he hunched behind the shelf, peering through narrow gaps between the piles of instant noodles. His fingers fisted into the fabric of his bloodstained shirt, as his mind whirred furiously. He's not with Overhaul's men, Ren realized, he's something worse.

The man's eyes flickered to the cashier, who promptly looked down, pretending to count change. Ren could see the cashier's shoulders shaking. This wasn't just some thug-whoever this man was, people were afraid of him.

The man cocked his head to one side, as if he sensed something. His gaze cut toward the back of the store, right to where Ren was hiding.

"Come out, little one," the man said, his voice calm but carrying the weight of a command. "I know you're there."

Ren's breath caught in his throat.

His muscles tensed, but he forced himself to stay calm. Think. Running would be pointless—the man would catch him before he reached the door. His only chance was to play along, to act like any other scared kid.

He emerged from behind the shelf, shaking, his head hung low. His sleeves were saturated with blood, clinging to his thin arms, and his bare feet left light prints on the floor.

The man's eyes narrowed to observe the state he was in.

"Had an interesting night, haven't you?"

Ren swallowed hard.

"I—I don't know what you're talking about," he stammered, trying to sound like the frightened kid he technically was. "I was just hiding here."

The man chuckled softly.

"I can smell the blood, boy. And judging by your condition, it isn't all yours."

He took a step forward, and Ren instinctively stepped back, bumping into the shelf behind him.

"I did nothing wrong," Ren hastened to say, the words spilling forth before he could give thought to either tone or intention. "It wasn't my fault. I was just—"

"I am not here to scold you," the man cut in seamlessly.

"As a matter of fact, I am impressed. A boy your age covered in blood, and yet here you are: standing, breathing."

Ren's fists bunched at his sides, yet he forced himself to hold the man's gaze.

But this man was frightening, more than any danger she had ever been in. His eyes weren't cold but calculating, as if weighing and balancing Ren bit by bit, weighing whether to use him or discard him.

"Who are you?" Ren finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The man gave a weak smile.

"You will when the time comes," he replied mysteriously.

"Until then, consider me a. friend. A friend who is also aware how difficult it might be to keep alive in the world we exist within."

The wheels in Ren's head started turning.

A friend? He doubted that. Nothing about this man felt friendly; if anything, he felt like the kind of fellow who saw people as pawns. But Ren wasn't in a position to be picky. He needed time to understand this world, time to control his abilities—and this man could be his ticket to both.

He knelt down to Ren's level; his sharp eyes now focused in on him.

"Tell me, how long have you had that quirk of yours?"

Ren hesitated, but briefly.

"Since I was young," he said after clearing his voice, making the words steadier. "I can manipulate the blood. But it's so-I just really don't know how to."

The man's smile spread, just a little.

"Of course you don't. Power like that isn't something a child can master on his own."

He straightened, his coat flaring slightly as he turned toward the door.

"Come with me, and I'll teach you how to control it. You'll never have to run again."

Ren's breath caught.

His gut twisted, screaming that this was a lousy idea, but the rational part of his brain knew he couldn't make it on his own. Not yet.

He nodded.

"Okay."

The man held out a hand.

Ren eyed it a moment, then set his small hand in the man's. The grip was firm but not crushing, like the man already knew Ren would follow him.

"Smart choice," the man said, leading him out of the store and into the quiet night.

As they walked, questions swirled in his mind, though one thought cut through above all others:

I'm walking into the lion's den. But it's better than dying in the streets.