that was cruel .. so is the world

That night, Zander stepped out of the cave. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and smoke from the dying campfires. He spotted Roadie sitting atop a boulder, his silhouette outlined against the starry sky.

The bandit leader sat in silence, lazily sipping from a half-empty bottle of wine, his gaze fixed on the heavens as if searching for something.

Zander approached without a word and climbed onto the boulder beside him. He sat there, still, saying nothing.

Roadie glanced at him, then—without a word—passed him the bottle.

Zander hesitated, then took it and took a sip. The bitterness burned his throat, but this time, he didn't complain.

Roadie watched him out of the corner of his eye, a flicker of surprise crossing his face—but he didn't let it show.

After a moment, Zander spoke.

"What are you?"

Roadie turned to him with a raised brow.

"Hah?"

Zander kept his gaze on the stars.

"Sometimes you're calm, almost... friendly." He tightened his grip on the bottle. "And then, the next moment, you're a cold, merciless bastard. Like two different people."

For a second, Roadie was silent. Zander glanced at him, but Roadie was still looking up at the sky.

After a long silence, Roadie exhaled and muttered, "Kid, every day... I come across this one bastard."

Zander frowned. "Who?"

Roadie chuckled, shaking his head. "Some angry, lunatic fool. Always comparing himself to people better than him. Always chasing after glory, fame, and wealth like a mad dog. And now that he's got it all… he doesn't know what to do with it."

He took another sip of his wine, his voice turning distant. "He's lost. Withdrawn. I pity him."

Zander listened, his grip tightening around the bottle.

"There's no peace inside him," Roadie continued. "No matter how much he takes, how much he kills, how much he wins… it's never enough. I pity him."

The bandit leader smirked, but there was something hollow in it. "Hell, sometimes I even pray he finds the peace he's searching for."

Another pause.

Then, Roadie finally turned to look at Zander.

"Every day, I stare at that bastard for a long time." He chuckled softly. "And then, I choose to stop looking at my own reflection and move on."

Zander's fingers tightened around the bottle as he processed Roadie's words. He hesitated before asking, "So… do you hate yourself?"

Roadie barked a laugh, shaking his head. "Hate? Nah. That takes too much effort. I just get tired of myself sometimes." He swirled the wine in his bottle and took another sip. "Regret's a heavy thing, kid. You carry it too long, and you start to sink. So, I just don't carry it."

Zander looked down at the ground, his voice quieter now. "Is that why you killed that guy earlier? Without hesitation?"

Roadie sighed, rubbing his temple. "That idiot was already dead the moment he ran back here. I just speed things up."

Zander shivered slightly, but Roadie noticed and smirked. "Scared, are we?"

Zander didn't answer. Instead, he took another sip of the wine—longer this time. The bitterness still made him cringe, but he swallowed it down.

Roadie watched him and chuckled. "You're learning, huh?"

Zander wiped his mouth and finally met Roadie's gaze. "You said regret's heavy, but… doesn't killing make it worse?"

Roadie leaned back, resting an arm on his knee. "You think killing is the worst thing in this world, huh?" He shook his head. "Lemme tell you something, kid—death ain't the worst fate. You ever seen a man broken? A man robbed of everything, made to crawl on his knees, knowing he'll never get his revenge, never get justice?"

Zander didn't answer.

"Some people deserve death," Roadie continued. "And some people deserve worse." He took another sip, then handed the bottle back to Zander. "You'll understand someday."

Zander stared at the bottle in his hands, feeling its weight. "…Maybe I already do."

Roadie raised a brow but didn't say anything. The two sat in silence, the cold night wind brushing against their faces.

For the first time, Zander didn't mind the bitterness of the wine.

The next morning, Roadie stretched his arms and let out a yawn as he stood before his gathered men. The cave was alive with the usual morning chaos—bandits sharpening blades, counting supplies, and gulping down whatever booze was left.

"Alright, boys," Roadie called out, cracking his neck. "We're running low on food, drink, and entertainment. Time for a raid."

The bandits cheered, raising their weapons and mugs in excitement.

Roadie turned to Zander, who sat on a nearby rock, flipping through a small, tattered book. "Since you're the 'brain' now, why don't you pick a place for us?"

Zander didn't answer immediately. He closed his book, tapping the cover thoughtfully before speaking. "Depends. What are we raiding for?"

The question made a few of the bandits snicker.

"What do you think, kid?" Roadie grinned, placing a hand on his hip. "We need all three—food, booze, and a little… entertainment." His eyes gleamed with mischief. "So pick wisely."

Zander smirked, his voice lowering into a whisper. "I know just the place."

A hush fell over the cave as the bandits leaned in with interest. Roadie's grin widened. "That so?"

Zander met his gaze, his silver eyes gleaming under the dim torchlight. "Yeah. Trust me… it'll be worth it."

few days later 

Here's a refined version with better flow, atmosphere, and emotional depth:

Aurora sat in her office, her eyes scanning over stacks of documents and tax reports. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the room as she rubbed her temples, exhaustion creeping in.

Then, the doors burst open.

A man dashed inside, his breath ragged, his clothes disheveled. Aurora's eyes widened in surprise as the guards rushed in after him.

"My Lady, we told him he needed a permit to enter!" one of them protested.

The intruder, however, paid them no mind. He dropped to his knees, desperation thick in his voice.

"Lady Aurora, it's urgent! My city—my family—it's all gone!"

Aurora's expression turned serious. She raised a hand, signaling the guards to step back. "Leave us."

Once they hesitated and finally left, she turned her gaze to the man. "Explain."

The man swallowed hard before straightening.

"I am Oliver Bonito, son of Baron Rain Bonito of Lemire Village. We were attacked… the bandits took everything and… and—"

Aurora narrowed her eyes. "And?"

Oliver's hands trembled. His voice wavered.

"They took my father. And all our wealth."

Before Aurora could respond, the door creaked open again.

A figure stepped inside.

Zed.

His hair was slicked back, his black cloak draped over his shoulders, still dusted with remnants of the battlefield. His dark, unreadable gaze swept over the room like a looming shadow, and for a brief moment, the air itself seemed to grow heavier.

Oliver stiffened, feeling a shiver crawl up his spine. Is this… Young Master Zed? He had changed so much from the last time Oliver had seen him.

Aurora, however, smiled gently, unfazed by his presence. "Zed, you're back. How did the raid go?"

Zed met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "It went well, sis. But I didn't find him."

His eyes flicked toward Oliver. "Who's this?"

Aurora sighed. "The bandits attacked his village, took his father, and stole everything."

Oliver clenched his fists before falling to his knees once more.

"Lady Aurora… please, you are our last hope. We have nothing left. If you don't help us, we're doomed. Please!"

Aurora barely had time to react before Zed took a slow step forward, his piercing gaze locking onto Oliver.

"Introduce yourself properly," Zed said, his tone eerily calm.

Oliver, still shaken, swallowed hard and did as he was told. "I-I am Oliver Bonito, son of Baron Rain Bonito of Lemire Village." His voice trembled slightly, but he managed to get the words out.

The moment he finished speaking, Zed moved.

CRACK!

A solid punch landed square on Oliver's face, sending him crashing to the floor. A sickening crunch followed, and blood instantly gushed from his nose.

Aurora's eyes widened in shock. "Zed!" she snapped, her voice laced with anger.

Oliver groaned, clutching his face as he writhed on the ground. The pain was unbearable, and for a moment, he struggled to even breathe.

Zed, unfazed, calmly pulled out a cloth and wiped his knuckles. He then looked at Aurora, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Aurora, did we ever receive proper tax payments or installments from the Bonito family?"

Aurora was still processing what just happened, but she answered nonetheless. "No, we didn't."

Zed nodded as if confirming something. He then crouched down, grabbed Oliver by the collar, and yanked him up, forcing him to meet his piercing crimson gaze.

"Do you know why?" Zed's voice was low, dangerous.

Oliver, barely able to focus through the pain, shook his head weakly.

"Because your bastard of a father kept half of everything," Zed said, his grip tightening. "Our money. The people's money. The taxes—everything. Your family bled Lemire dry, stuffing their pockets so full that they're probably richer than the damn viscounts."

Oliver's eyes widened in horror. He wanted to deny it, but Zed's expression told him everything—he already knew the truth.

Oliver trembled in Zed's grip, his breath shaky as blood dripped from his nose onto the marble floor. The room was deathly silent, only the faint crackling of the fireplace filling the air.

Zed's grip on Oliver's collar remained firm as he pulled him closer, his voice dangerously low. "You come running to us now, begging for help, after your family robbed this land blind?" His crimson eyes burned with cold fury. "Let me make this clear—what happened to your father, your village, is the result of your own greed."

Oliver shook his head frantically. "P-Please! I didn't—"

Zed slammed him back down onto the floor. "Save your excuses." He turned to Aurora. "His father is either dead or being sold off like cattle, and honestly, I don't care which. If he had any sense, he would've used the stolen wealth to fortify his own damn village instead of fattening himself up."

Aurora let out a quiet sigh, rubbing her temple. She wasn't about to defend the Bonito family, but Zed's coldness unsettled her.

Oliver coughed, his entire body trembling as he forced himself to sit up. "Lady Aurora, please—at least help my people!" His voice cracked with desperation.

Zed scoffed. "Your people? The same people your father let starve while he dined on imported luxuries?" He straightened up, his cloak shifting with his movements. "I'm only going to say this once. Get out of my sight."

Oliver froze. "W-What?"

Zed's gaze darkened. "Run. Leave Castle Grave and never show your face here again. If I see you again, you die." His voice was calm, yet the weight behind his words made the air feel suffocating.

Oliver's breath hitched. He looked at Aurora, silently pleading for mercy, but she simply turned away. There was nothing she could do—not against Zed's decision.

His lips quivered as he pushed himself to his feet. He staggered towards the door, clutching his stomach. Before he left, he turned back one last time, his expression twisted with sorrow. "You… You're just going to let them get away with this?"

Zed tilted his head slightly. "Them?" A sinister smirk curled his lips. "Oh, don't worry… I'll be paying the bandits a visit. And when I do, there won't be anything left of them."

Oliver shuddered and bolted out the door without another word.

Once he was gone, Aurora finally exhaled and crossed her arms. "Zed… That was cruel."

Zed let out a dry chuckle. "So is the world, sis."