Aster made his way to the shallow house, the door hanging crooked on tired hinges.
He twisted the barely working handle.
Something leaped at his face.
"Boo!"
In one smooth motion, Aster caught the attacker, spun him around, and pinned his arm behind his back with effortless precision.
"You have to do better than that, Rowan."
"Agh, hey!" the child yelped, squirming. "It's not fair, Aster. You're too tall and too swift."
Aster released him. Rowan stumbled back a step, pouting, wooden sword clenched in his small hand. He jabbed it toward Aster, eyes blazing with determination.
"I'm gonna outgrow you. Just watch and see."
Aster snorted, barely winded, and glanced at the wooden sword like it had personally offended him.
"Outgrow me? At this rate you'll outgrow that door before you outgrow me. And that door's already on its last prayer."
He tapped Rowan lightly on
the forehead and nudged the creaky door shut with his boot.
"By the way," Aster added, looking around the small house, "where's Eloise, Rowan?"
Rowan blinked. "Oh. She's still at the bakery. Working."
Aster sighed. "Want to go get her, then?"
Rowan's face lit up instantly. "Yeah! I wanna show her how fast I can tackle her!"
They made their way toward the market.
They had not even stepped close yet when a familiar scream tore through the air.
"ELOISE! Get your ass over here. There are hungry customers waiting for their bread!"
"Coming, sir!"
Inside the bakery, Eloise wiped her hands on her frail dress. The bandana on her head was slightly tilted, flour dusting her neck and hair.
She hurried to serve the customers, handing over loaves with a soft smile and quiet thanks.
The moment the last customer left, Mr. Carlet's voice snapped again.
"Why are you so slow? A snail would've won if the two of you had a race."
"I'm sorry, sir," Eloise said quietly. "I was making sure the buns weren't burned."
"Why the hell did I get a helper if it's just going to cost me a headache?" he barked. "Take your leave."
Eloise nodded, head bowed, eyes fixed on the floor as she stepped outside.
She stopped short.
Rowan stood there, wooden sword in hand, beaming. Aster was beside him, shoulders tense, jaw locked tight.
"Why do you let him treat you like that?" Aster said, his voice low and sharp. "He can't even make decent bread."
He snorted, barely holding back.
"Oh, come on. Let him be," Eloise said gently. "Besides, he lets me sell some of my bread from the house for five merits."
"That's probably the only reason his bakery still runs," Aster muttered, crossing his arms.
"Eloise!"
Rowan launched himself at her, nearly knocking her over.
"Rowan!" she laughed, catching him just in time. "You're getting a little stronger, bud."
She smiled, relief soft and warm. Having somewhere to come home to still felt like a miracle.
Then she coughed, turning away.
Rowan's smile faded. "It's getting worse, isn't it?"
"Don't worry," she said quickly, ruffling his hair. "It's better than before."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice
conspiratorially. "Let's go home. I managed to sneak a pie into my sleeve while we were cleaning the shelves."
Rowan gasped. "You're a hero."
They made their way back, laughter lightening the road.
That night, Eloise made a simple mushroom soup, and they split the meat pie she had smuggled out like stolen treasure.
Rowan fell asleep first, curled up and snoring softly. Aster washed the dishes while Eloise cleared the table.
"You should get checked, Ely," Aster said.
"Oh, it's nothing," she replied.
"You've been saying that for weeks," he said, drying his hands. "And I'm worried."
He pressed a few merits into her palm.
"Go buy some medicine."
She stared at them. "Where did you get this, Aster?"
She looked up sharply. "You're still going to that place, aren't you?"
"I told you, you can't keep doing that. What if something happens to you?"
Her hands clenched in her dress. "You're the only one we've got. Our only family left."
Aster smirked, infuriatingly calm. "I'll be careful. I promise I'll always come back."
Eloise sighed and patted his back. "We're in this together."
Aster nodded. "Yeah. You and your flour drenched face."
She froze.
"What?"
She rushed to the cracked mirror and rubbed at her neck, sending a small cloud of flour into the air.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she laughed.
Aster shrugged. "I thought it was a new look. Very intimidating. Bakers fear you."
She swatted his arm, still laughing.
"Idiot."
Aster smiled softly, watching her
Eloise soon joined Rowan in bed, the small room settling into a fragile stillness.
Despite the late hour, Aster remained awake.
He sat at the table beneath a flickering lamp, counting their merits one by one, lining them up with careful precision.
His fingers paused as he mapped out the week in his head. Food. Medicine. Rent. Always short, never enough.
"We can't survive like this," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.
The numbers stared back at him, merciless.
"I'll have to take more missions."
From the bed came a soft mumble. Rowan shifted in his sleep, turning toward Eloise as if even dreams knew where safety lived.
Aster's expression softened. He stood,
tucked the blanket higher around them, and adjusted the pillow beneath Rowan's head.
"Easy, hero," he whispered.
He climbed the narrow steps to the roof, each creak swallowed by the night.
The shallow rooftop opened to a sky washed in ink and silver. Cool air brushed his skin, carrying the distant hum of the sleeping city and the faint scent of bread still clinging to his clothes.
Aster lay back against the tiles and counted the stars, one by one, until the noise in his chest quieted.
Somewhere above, constellations stitched themselves together like promises that never quite reached the ground.
He pulled out an old, worn notebook from his coat.
The pages were soft at the edges, filled with careful lines no one else ever saw. With charcoal stained fingers, he began to draw. Shapes took form slowly, deliberately.
Not contracts or targets, but imagined places, people who smiled without fear, a world that felt kinder than the one he lived in.
It was a secret hobby.
One he guarded fiercely.
The wind turned the page for him, and Aster let it