Liam didn't go home after leaving the alley. Instead, he melted into the shadows, following Liu Dazhi at a safe distance. The manager waddled through the slums, stopping at a convenience store to buy a bottle of cheap wine before heading to a run-down two-story wooden building—his apartment. Liam memorized the address: 4th door on the second floor, left side, marked by a rusted bicycle chained to the railing. Only when Liu Dazhi closed his door did Liam slip away, his mind already plotting.
Back in his tiny one-room home, he threw his schoolbag on the floor, the god flesh inside still warm. His thoughts kept drifting to Liu Dazhi's smug face— that greedy, entitled smirk that made Liam's blood boil. "A scheduled email—this complicates things," he muttered, pacing the floor. He knew nothing about the email's details: which service Liu Dazhi used, how many backup accounts he'd set up, or how often he reset the timer. Killing Liu Dazhi was easy—sneaking into his apartment, snapping his neck, making it look like a robbery. But covering his tracks afterward was the hard part. If the email sent before he could stop it, all his work would be for nothing.
"I won't let my second chance at life be ruined by a greasy café manager," he growled, slamming his fist against the wall. The drywall crumbled under his enhanced strength, leaving a small hole. He stared at it, his anger fading into cold resolve. He needed a plan— and fast.
After washing the weekend's lunchboxes in the rusty basin by the door and taking a cold shower to calm his nerves, Liam collapsed into bed. Tomorrow was Monday—time to return to school. He couldn't skip; the library work-study program was his only source of legitimate income, and he needed those 10 copper coins a week to buy food and fund his internet café trips.
He checked the calendar taped to the wall before leaving:
[Blue Star Calendar: January 4th, 2010]
[Western Calendar: Monday]
[Lunar Calendar: 20th day of the 11th lunar month. Auspicious for planting, inauspicious for marriage]
He grabbed a tattered cloth bag, stuffed a few old textbooks inside (to avoid questions from the teachers), and headed out into the early-morning darkness. The slums were quiet at this hour, most people still asleep to conserve energy— a luxury Liam couldn't afford.
At the school gate, he spotted the principal and several teachers standing guard—apparently doing a "surprise inspection" to show off their authority. Students greeted the principal politely as they passed, their voices tired but compliant. Liam kept his head down, muttering a quick "Good morning" as he walked by.
But a teacher stepped forward, blocking his path. "You! Stop!"
Liam froze. The teacher—Mr. Carter, a balding man with a perpetual scowl and a penchant for petty officials' power trips—stared him down. "Why didn't you greet the principal loudly? Don't you know how to respect your elders? This is a school, not a gutter—act like it!"
Respect? Liam's fingers twitched. After killing three men, after eating god flesh to grow stronger, his patience for petty power plays was wearing thin. He wanted to punch Mr. Carter square in the jaw, to show him what "respect" really meant when someone had nothing to lose. But Liu Dazhi's face popped into his mind— the scheduled email, the threat of exposure. "Not worth it. Not yet," he told himself.
He forced a contrite smile, his voice soft and submissive. "Sorry, sir. I didn't sleep well last night—I'm exhausted. Let me greet you properly. Good morning, principal! Good morning, Mr. Carter!"
The principal waved it off with a dismissive laugh, already turning to chat with another teacher. But Mr. Carter wasn't satisfied. He narrowed his eyes, scanning Liam's cloth bag. "Where's your schoolbag? What's in that bag? Let me see!"
He snatched the bag before Liam could react, rummaging through it roughly. Inside were only a few empty lunchboxes and a crumpled notebook. "No books? Didn't you do your homework over the weekend? You think you can skip work just because you're an orphan?"
Liam sighed. The school's outdated curriculum was useless in the apocalypse—most students would never get into an academy, would never escape the slums. Why bother with homework? But he bit his tongue, knowing an argument would only make things worse.
Before he could respond, a girl's voice cut in—clear, calm, and unexpected. "Teacher, Liam studied with me at a classmate's house over the weekend. He left his books there. I promised to bring them for him today."
Liam turned—surprised to see Sophie standing behind him. She was the top student in the grade, known for her quiet demeanor and sharp mind. They'd never spoken before, not even a single word. Why was she sticking up for him?
Mr. Carter frowned, eyeing them suspiciously. He'd heard rumors about Liam's obsession with Chloe, and he was always on the lookout for "inappropriate relationships" (a favorite topic of his). But Sophie's face was calm, her eyes steady—no sign of nervousness or romance. "Is that true?" he asked, staring at Liam.
Liam nodded, playing along. "Yes, sir. Sophie's right. I'll get my books back tomorrow."
Mr. Carter grunted, handing the bag back. "Hurry to class. And make sure you bring those books—no more excuses."
As they walked away from the gate, Sophie fell into step beside him. The morning air was cold, but she didn't pull her coat tighter—she just walked quietly, her shoes clicking softly on the pavement. "Aren't you going to thank me?" she asked, her voice neutral.
Liam glanced at her. Sophie was pretty, with straight black hair and sharp brown eyes, but she carried herself with a distance—like she was always observing, never participating. "Should I?" he replied, his tone flat.
"I just saved you from getting detention. You used to bring Chloe breakfast every morning, do her homework for her—never got a thank you then. You said it was 'a test of our relationship,'" she said, mimicking his old, desperate tone. She batted her eyelashes exaggeratedly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Think of this as my test for you. Not for romance—for basic humanity."
Liam's lips twitched. He remembered those days—sneaking extra food from the cafeteria for Chloe, staying up late to finish her math homework, walking her home even when she ignored him. He'd been a fool, blinded by the hope of belonging. "You mean, after all I did for her, you're finally returning the favor? How generous," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Sophie's smile faltered. "I know I was wrong to let it happen. You helped me once—remember? In 9th grade, when Mark and his friends stole my lunch. You chased them down and got it back. I never thanked you then. Now we're even." She paused, her tone softening. "Stop being so cold. It's not attractive."
Even? Liam wanted to laugh. He'd chased down bullies for her, skipped meals for Chloe— and now one small favor made them "even"? But he didn't argue. He was tired of drama, tired of being used. "Even works for me," he said. "Now leave me alone. I don't want to be friends, and I don't want to talk about Chloe."
Sophie's eyes widened, as if she hadn't expected him to shut her down so firmly. "But… can we start over? I'll be nicer. I'll stop letting Chloe use you. You just need to—"
"Bring you breakfast? Do your homework?" Liam cut her off, his voice sharp. "Save it. You want Ryan—go chase him. He's rich, his uncle's a Sequence user—he's your ticket out of the slums. Stop using me as a stepping stone. I'm not your errand boy anymore."
He leaned in, his voice low enough only she could hear. "And you wouldn't want Ryan to find out how you've been using me, would you? How you let Chloe boss you around, how you laughed at me behind my back?"
Sophie paled. She'd never thought Liam would figure it out—let alone threaten her with it. Ryan was her only chance to escape the slums, to give her blind grandmother a better life. She couldn't lose him.
Liam walked away, leaving her standing frozen in the hallway. For the first time in years, he felt free— free from Chloe, free from Sophie, free from the need to please anyone. He headed to class, his mind focused on more important things: Liu Dazhi, his fake Sequence, and the god flesh waiting for him in his bag.