A Curse

When the mayor was informed of what had happened, his face drained of color.

"What?" he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

His hands trembled. His body stiffened. Panic surged through him.

If word got out…

If anyone found out…

He spun around, moving frantically, his breath coming in quick, uneven gasps. The corrupted had to be hidden.

Now.

He stumbled back into the dimly lit room where they were kept. The air was thick with the stench of burnt plastic and ink.

The creatures lay there, their bodies twitching, bound in place. The one he had been with—her body still convulsed.

It had felt so good. So intoxicating.

And now, it might cost him everything.

No one could know.

No one.

With shaking hands, he grabbed a thick tarp, pulling it over them. His heart pounded as he pushed a heavy crate in front of the cage, obscuring it from view.

He wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady himself.

He took deep breaths. Forced his heartbeat to slow.

And then—his fear turned to fury.

How dare some commoner accuse him?

He was the mayor. He was above them all.

That boy.

A fourteen-year-old brat had somehow—**somehow—**figured it out.

His fingers clenched into fists.

How?

How had the boy known?

He had to have been spying. Or worse—someone had sent him.

His lip curled as his hands itched for violence.

If the boy thought he could get away with this…

He had another thing coming.

The mayor sat rigidly in his chair, his fingers digging into the armrests. His mind whirled with fear, rage, and the desperate need to protect himself.

A guard stepped forward, clearing his throat.

"Sir… the boy's father is a mercenary. His mother relies on settlement payments from the corps. She can barely keep up with medical expenses as it is."

The mayor's jaw tightened.

A mercenary's brat.

A child with no real power.

A perfect scapegoat.

Just as he was about to speak, the heavy doors burst open. A distressed woman stumbled in.

Her face was pale, eyes wild with worry. Her clothes were hastily thrown on, as if she had rushed here the moment she heard.

"Where is my son?" she demanded, her voice breaking.

Behind her, a man followed—Felix, from the mercenary corps. His expression was carefully neutral, but his stance was tense.

He gave a short nod to the mayor before turning to the guards.

"What happened?"

One of the guards hesitated before explaining, his voice flat and professional.

"The boy, Levi, made an accusation against the mayor. Claimed there were corrupted inside his home. When we questioned him, he couldn't explain how he knew. His story didn't make sense."

Felix sighed heavily, rubbing his temples.

"That boy…" he muttered, shaking his head.

Then he looked at the mayor, offering a reassuring—almost apologetic—smile.

"Levi has always been a troubled kid. He has a wild imagination. He's made up stories before."

The mayor stiffened.

Wild imagination?

The boy had described exactly what was happening inside his home. That wasn't imagination.

No, no, no—this wasn't something he could just brush aside.

The mayor slammed his hand down on the desk.

"I refuse."

Felix's smile faltered.

The mayor stood, his voice sharp with barely concealed fury.

"That child maligned me. In front of my own men. Do you understand what that means?" His words dripped with venom.

Levi's mother flinched.

Felix narrowed his eyes slightly but remained silent.

The mayor straightened his coat, forcing himself to look composed.

"I will not have my reputation tarnished by some mercenary brat's delusions. I'm starting the process to have Levi and his family expelled from the city."

Levi's mother staggered back as if she had been struck.

"No—please—"

But the mayor had already made up his mind.

Levi had to disappear.

Levi sat on the cold floor of the cell, his body aching from the beating he had endured. His swollen eye barely opened, and his split lip throbbed. He didn't know how long he had been there—minutes, hours? His mind was clouded, his thoughts sluggish.

Then he heard the heavy clang of the cell door unlocking.

His head snapped up just in time to see his mother rush in.

Her face was streaked with tears, her breath uneven as she dropped to her knees beside him.

"Levi!" she sobbed, reaching out to touch his battered face. Her hands trembled as they traced the bruises on his cheeks, the dried blood on his forehead.

Behind her, Felix stepped in, his expression unreadable.

Levi felt his throat tighten.

Felix was the one who brought the stipend from the mercenary corps every month. He was the reason his mother could still afford food—even if barely.

The man's voice was calm, but there was something sharp underneath.

"Levi… why did you do it?"

Levi opened his mouth, but no words came.

How could he explain what he saw? That he had looked through walls? That he had seen things no one else could? That the mayor was with a corrupted?

Would they even believe him?

His mother's tear-filled eyes searched his, desperate for an answer.

Felix crossed his arms. "Do you realize what you've done?"

Levi looked down at his hands. His fingers trembled as he clenched them into fists.

He had only wanted to help. To prevent a catastrophe.

But now?

Now his mother was crying, Felix was looking at him with disappointment, and he was locked in a cell with no way out.

His lips parted, but the only words that escaped were a hoarse, broken:

"I'm sorry."

His mother froze at his weak apology, her tears still falling—but now, her expression twisted into something else.

Anger.

She stood up abruptly, hands clenched into fists.

"Do you even understand what you've done?" she snapped, her voice shaking. Not from sorrow anymore, but from rage.

Levi flinched.

He had expected her to be upset, but this? This was worse.

"They're kicking us out, Levi!" she spat. "Do you get that? We have nowhere to go!"

Levi's stomach dropped.

Kicked out?

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. His mind raced, his already aching body now feeling heavier.

Where could they even go?

Settlement 80 was already at the bottom of the barrel—one of the poorest, the weakest. No one came here unless they had no choice.

They had only three Archon families—barely enough to govern the settlement—and twelve Symbiosis Warriors.

Twelve.

That was nothing.

In other settlements, Symbiosis Warriors numbered in the hundreds. But here? The few they had were stretched thin, barely keeping the settlement standing.

And now, they were being thrown out?

Levi's vision blurred—not from his injuries, but from pure, suffocating stress.

"Mom, I—" He wanted to say something, anything, to make this better.

But there was nothing left to say.

His mother just stared at him, lips pressed tight, betrayal and fury in her eyes.

Felix let out a long, heavy sigh. "You really screwed up, kid."

And for the first time in his life, Levi realized—he might not have a home tomorrow.

Felix ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "I told them you were crazy, kid."

Levi barely reacted—except to nod eagerly.

Normally, he would have hated admitting to something like that, but now?

If pretending to be some lunatic meant keeping them from being thrown out into the wasteland, then fine.

He was crazy. Absolutely insane.

His mother, however, remained silent, her head bowed, her body still shaking from earlier.

Felix moved closer to her, placing a firm but gentle hand on her back.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice softer than Levi had ever heard before. "It's going to be okay. I promise."

She leaned into him slightly—too naturally, as if this wasn't the first time.

Levi's gaze flickered between them.

And something clicked.

They were having an affair.

The way Felix held her, how he spoke to her, how she allowed it.

They weren't just acquaintances.

At any other time, Levi might have felt something about it—anger, confusion, betrayal.

But right now?

He had nothing left to feel.

Not after today. Not after seeing the mayor with that corrupted. Not after getting beaten. Not after realizing that his entire life was falling apart.

So he simply accepted it.

Maybe it had always been this way, and he just never noticed.

His mother was still crying, Felix still holding her, whispering reassurances Levi didn't believe.

And as he watched, he couldn't help but think—

All of this… all of this started the moment I stopped holding back my sight.

He glared at the air in front of him, at the invisible, cursed screen that only he could see.

It had never been a blessing.

It had only ever been a curse.