Chapter IX

This week passed unusually quickly for Ferrick. He felt more rested than ever before. His mood was excellent, and the cough that had previously tormented him had become significantly milder. He realized that, at last, he was experiencing true happiness. Ever since Garlos had offered him a chance to escape this cursed place, nothing else had mattered to him. He stopped paying attention to the news, the state of air contamination, or even his job, which he had ceased attending after the brutal attack on him.

Each day, he spent as actively as his health allowed. He took long walks daily and tried to make new acquaintances. Some people avoided conversations, but others eagerly shared information about the city. Thanks to them, Ferrick learned about Trey's store, which always ensured its food products were the best in the entire Lower Level, and about the tram stop in the Rowena district, where instead of standard wooden benches, comfortable single seats were installed for passengers.

Ferrick felt that his life had gained vibrant colors. He knew he was taking a great risk by escaping, so he stopped holding back and socially withdrawing. His old, fearful nature had faded away, and he welcomed his new self with a broad smile.

He woke up in the middle of the day—or at least he assumed so, as he no longer had any way to verify it. Three days earlier, just like Garlos, he had decided to destroy his radio with a powerful kick and throw it away. He no longer wanted to hear any specific news. He didn't need to know what was happening in the world, especially if it concerned the Last War. He preferred to live in blissful ignorance with a peaceful mind.

He rose from the sofa, stretched, and loosened his fragile body. He had slept well, just as he had lately. He glanced around his room, which had recently been dirty, dusty, and damp. But now, it shone with cleanliness—over the past week, Ferrick had thoroughly cleaned every corner of his apartment. Only now did he realize how important cleanliness was for inner peace.

He noticed one of the walls where an empty frame had once hung. Now, there was a painting he had bought from a woman named Sara Bytolusz. He had met her one morning in a store, and they quickly found common ground. When he mentioned the empty frame, the woman offered him an unused painting that had been gathering dust under her bed for years. The painting depicted mystical Bubbles—extraordinary, gigantic glass formations that could only be found on the Upper Level. In the artwork, they contained colorful bouquets full of the most beautiful flowers. Ferrick had never seen them with his own eyes, but he had heard a lot about them. He couldn't wait for the day he would finally be able to touch them once he left this place.

With a brisk step, he approached his hidden fridge and took out some bread and butter. At the table, using a rusty knife, he cut a piece of bread and spread some butter on it. He put the rest back in the fridge and then sat on the sofa. As he chewed, he pondered the day ahead. Garlos had asked him to come over late in the evening. There, he was supposed to meet an acquaintance who would help them reach the upper floors. Ferrick felt a rush of excitement, eagerly anticipating the next day. He had never looked forward to National Caldoria Day so impatiently. It was the only day of the year when everyone paid tribute to the TDP government and the homeland itself, honoring its power and influence. On this occasion, the military had fewer duties, meaning they would not be heavily patrolling the elevator leading to the Upper Level. Though he didn't know all the details, he felt this was his only chance for a better life, free from worries and dangers.

Suddenly, Ferrick had an idea of how to spend the rest of the day. Straightening his back abruptly, he headed toward the corridor. He put on his old, gray boots and brown jacket before stepping out the door. He paused for a moment, trying to find his key, but he couldn't locate it. It was probably somewhere inside his apartment, but he didn't feel like going back. He decided to continue his walk, heading toward the stairwell and beginning his climb to the upper floors. Along the way, he passed several residents he had barely noticed before. He could have stopped to talk for a moment, but this time he was in a hurry.

As he reached the thirteenth floor, he noticed a woman sitting on the stairs. She was thin, and her face was wet with tears. She was crying softly, as if she didn't want anyone to notice her. Ferrick stopped, uncertainly glancing at the dark-haired woman. For a moment, he forgot everything that had been pushing him upward. His gaze settled on her hands, which were clutching a purple skirt tightly. Something about her crying unsettled him. In the past, he probably wouldn't have paid attention—he would have simply walked past—but now he felt he couldn't just ignore her. He hesitated, unsure of what to do, but ultimately, he decided to ask.

- Are you all right?

The woman turned her gaze to Ferrick's face and hastily wiped her tears, trying to hide her emotions from a stranger.

- Yes, yes. There's no reason to worry. Everything is fine.

- If you need someone to talk to, I'm here to listen - Ferrick offered.

The woman looked at him and unexpectedly smiled, though her face was still full of sorrow. The smile was filled with confusion but also slight relief.

- It's nothing, really. It's just that today, after hearing on the news that Zalvistan had attacked us again, I couldn't bear to listen anymore. I ran out in tears so my little daughter wouldn't see me like this.

Ferrick didn't know what to say. He had once cared deeply about such things, but over time, he had noticed the routine in those reports. An attack, followed by Caldoria's victory a few days later. It all seemed increasingly trivial, as if the same patterns repeated over and over. He believed more people saw the senseless cycle, but apparently, he was wrong.

- Everything will be fine. You'll see. TDP will save us and bring peace to this world - he said, though he didn't believe those words himself.

- And what if they don't? What if, in the end, it ends tragically for us? I live in constant stress. I can't take it anymore! When will this Last War finally end?! - she cried out.

Suddenly, the cry of a child echoed from the same floor. The thin woman straightened, and her face immediately adopted a calmer expression. She walked toward her apartment door, but before opening it, she turned back to Ferrick.

He noticed her eyes. They were full of exhaustion, swollen from crying, but most of all, empty, as if devoid of hope. As if they had nothing left to hold on to.

- I'm so tired. Do you know what that feels like? - she asked.

- Yes - Ferrick answered softly, feeling he had nothing more to add.

She nodded and, without waiting for another word, closed the door behind her. Ferrick stood in silence for a moment, listening to the child's cries coming from the apartment. Then he continued upward.

When Ferrick reached the very top of the housing complex, he stepped onto the roof and gazed at the landscape stretching before him. The air was heavy, humid, saturated with the scent of mildew and exhaust fumes. The view was breathtaking—though in a grim, oppressive way. The Lower Level was a world of gray concrete blocks—windowless, raw, merciless. Their monolithic walls rose like dead towers, forming a labyrinth devoid of light and hope.

The city lay underground, hidden beneath layers of concrete and steel. Even during the day, darkness reigned here—a perpetual night illuminated only by the pale glow of street lamps and flickering neon signs, as if they, too, were barely holding on to life. Fog, smog, and moisture thickened the air, making it feel almost sticky. Every corridor, every street was part of the same endless maze that Ferrick knew by heart.

This was his city. He had spent his entire life here—from his first steps to adulthood. Every corner held memories, every wall bore witness to thousands of stories. He didn't hate this place. Quite the opposite—he felt a strange attachment to it. But that didn't mean he wanted to stay. He knew that if he changed nothing, he would become one of those people who wandered the streets aimlessly, resigned to their fate.

For a moment, he stood still, staring into the thick darkness stretching before him. His heart pounded harder, and his mind swirled with thoughts. The hunger to escape gripped his stomach like a vice. He knew he had to find a way—any way, as long as it led him far from here. He couldn't let the Lower Level swallow him forever. He had to do this—for himself and for Elena. He owed her that.

Ferrick lay down on the cold concrete, feeling the chill seep through his clothes. He remained there for a while, completely motionless, eyes fixed on the sky above. His gaze met the long, protruding lamps from the Upper Level, their narrow beams slicing through the darkness.

He found himself in the same position he had once been in with Elena. Memories pulled him under, and for a brief moment, time stood still around him.

- Have you ever wondered what it's like to live up there? - Elena asked.

Young Ferrick glanced at her, then turned his eyes back to the darkness surrounding them from every side.

- Not really - he replied.

- That's where all the wildest dreams come true. A world full of Bubbles, flowers, food, and light. I'd love to see that place someday.

- Why? You have everything you need here. You work at the clinic as a doctor. You earn more than most people here. You shouldn't even be thinking about another life - Ferrick said, irritation creeping into his voice.

Elena sat up on the concrete rooftop. Her white dress fluttered in the wind, as did her light brown hair. She looked at Ferrick.

- Life isn't just about comfort, Donnie. It's not just about convenience and safety. It's about searching for meaning and chasing your deepest dreams. Sometimes you have to step beyond what's familiar to feel truly alive.

Now, Ferrick understood those words. It had taken him years to finally grasp their true meaning. Elena had always been the closest person to him, and yet he had pushed her away. All that time, he had been focused only on comfort, on the security of an easy life. But that was the past. Tomorrow, he would escape to the Upper Level and start anew. For Elena.

He closed his eyes, tuning in to the faint sounds of the city. The flickering lamps, the murmur of passing strangers, the distant hum of trams running on endless tracks, the constant rhythm of factories. With time, this place had started to feel like a distant dream—one with no way back. The sounds that had once been part of his daily life now felt foreign, like echoes from the past. He felt how every moment spent here was dragging him toward the end of something that no longer made sense. Every step through this city, among its concrete blocks, seemed to tie him to a past that was pulling him down.

And yet, in the silence, he realized one thing—what once was no longer mattered. Tomorrow, he would leave. He had to. To start a new chapter—one filled with hope and freedom.

Suddenly, a voice rang out from several megaphones placed throughout the Ungre district.

- The time is now 14:00. Today is Tuesday, April 29, 2098. The air pollution level is moderate. The latest reports indicate that today's attack on our homeland resulted from an alliance pact between Zalvistan and Yermark. TDP has dispatched its forces to repel the enemy assault. Let us hope these unfortunate events do not interfere with our preparations for tomorrow's National Caldoria Day. We will continue to provide updates on the situation. Glory and honor to Caldoria!

Ferrick smirked ironically. It seemed that, of all things, he might miss those daily news reports the most.