mg: year 5003 Month of Golden Spikes: Day : 5

  Alene left the palace with the first threads of dawn, in that gray hour that is neither night nor day.

  She did not look back. Every step took her further from the monster who was the ghost of her love, and from the guilty relief she had felt in the garden of blood. She moved with a decisive quietness, her steps light and measured on the muddy ground, pulling along her sleeping son, Rio, whom she had wrapped in her cloak.

  She arrived at a cheap inn on the outskirts of the Sunrise Balcony district, a place barely touched by the light of the palace. She paid the fat owner what little coins she had left—the price of one night of false security. The room was small, reeking of dust and damp wood. It contained only a sturdy wooden bed and a dim oil lantern.

  She placed Rio gently on the bed and covered him with the coarse blanket. She sat beside him, listening to his steady breathing. Now that they were alone, the cold calculations of survival began. She emptied her pocket onto the table: a few copper coins and a small silver piece.

  "Enough for food for two days, maybe three if we're lucky," she whispered to herself. "But shelter... this inn runs out at sunrise."

  She thought of her options with desperate speed. The Adventurer's Guild? It was a joke in Chang'an. The Gu clan had crushed any independent organization decades ago. The Mercenary Guild? You needed a pass to enter and exit the city for jobs, and that required money.

  So, regular work? In a kitchen? Or a laundry? She knew she could get such a job. But the pay? It would barely be enough to buy bread. As for shelter, there was only one option for such a meager wage: the Swamp of Shadows, and sleeping outside, not inside a shack.

  When she thought of that, a coldness swept over her, colder than any prison cell. She imagined Rio sleeping on a muddy floor, the smell of mold filling his small nose. She imagined the rats scurrying past him in the dark, and the hungry eyes of thieves and scoundrels watching him from the alleys.

  "No." The word was loud in the silence of the room. "No. Not for him. I didn't save him from a monster to throw him to the rats."

  She had made her decision. There was only one path left, one final gamble, a one-percent chance that might grant them a decent life, or end everything quickly.

  Rio woke with the sunrise. "Mama," he said in a sleepy voice, "I'm hungry."

  In that moment, all doubt evaporated. There was no more time for philosophy; there was only the reality of hunger. They went down to the inn's common room.

  With the few remaining coins, she bought two loaves of hard bread and a cup of milk. She placed it all in front of him.

  "You eat, Mama," he said, pushing one of the loaves toward her.

  She smiled, a smile that required all of her remaining strength.

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  "No, my love, I'm not hungry. You eat."

  She watched him eat ravenously, and every bite he swallowed filled a void in her soul and widened the void in her stomach. Her money was gone. Their one-day paradise was over.

  She knew it was time for her final gamble. She left Rio in the room after promising she would return with food, and went out.

  She walked through the city, her eyes fixed on the distant target: the imposing palace of the Gu clan. She no longer saw it as a symbol of power, but as a last chance for survival, the final gambling table of her life. She knew they didn't accept volunteers, that they were the ones who chose. But she was betting on the only thing she owned: her talent.

  She reached the main gate. The two guards standing there, in their gleaming black armor, were like statues of obsidian. She approached hesitantly. I want... I want to offer myself to the Gu clan.

  One of them looked at her with disdain. "And you think the clan accepts scum from the street? I am talented, she said, the words sounding weak even to her own ears.

  I can use the 'Soul Gate'. Mana. The guards burst into harsh, ringing laughter. "A little sorceress who thinks she's a gift from the gods!" said the first.

  "Every day a pretty girl like you comes along thinking her pretty face will open the palace doors for her," said the second, his lustful eyes scanning her body from top to bottom.

  "It opens other doors, though."

  She felt a chill run down her spine. She froze, feeling like nothing more than a "commodity," prey before predators enjoying their power.

  "I'll tell you what we'll do," said the first, stepping closer, the smell of garlic on his breath.

  "Choose. Either we take you by force, right here and now, and no one will dare say a thing. Or you 'serve' us willingly, and maybe we'll give you a tip big enough for one night's dinner."

  At that moment, a cold, arrogant voice came from behind the gate. "Are you two dogs done with your games?

  "

  The guards froze, turned quickly, and bowed. "Master Ling Gu!"

  Ling Gu emerged, dressed in his black silk, his cold gaze passing over her as if she didn't exist. This was her chance. She fell to her knees, placing her pride beneath her feet. "Master! I beg you! I am talented! I can serve the clan!"

  Ling Gu stopped and finally looked at her.

  He examined her with his sharp eyes, not as a man looks at a woman, but as an expert appraises a work of art. "Talented?" he said coldly. "You are trash. And old, too." He gestured with his hand in dismissal. "Get her out of here.

  "

  It was the final blow. The word "trash" shattered the last remnants of her hope.

  One of the guards grabbed her arm forcefully. "You heard the Master," he whispered in her ear. "Looks like my shift is over. Let's go."

  It was a walk of shame to the "Inn of the Silent Dusk," a place filthier and more wretched than any she had ever seen. She didn't resist. She shut down her mind, disconnecting her soul from her body.

  She became a doll. As she walked, she saw her distorted reflection in the windows of closed shops, and she didn't see a dreamer, but a ghost walking to her grave.

  In the cheap room, she didn't even look at the cracked ceiling or the dirty walls. She lay on the bed, closed her eyes, and escaped to the only place they couldn't touch: her mind.

  When they were finally done and had thrown a few rusty copper coins on the table, she didn't move.

  She lay there for an hour, two, she didn't know.

  Then she got up. She put on her torn clothes. And she picked up the coins.

  She walked out into the cold, rainy night of Chang'an. She didn't feel humiliation; she didn't feel pain. She felt nothing but the cold.

  "This..." she whispered to herself, the copper coins cold in her palm. "This will be enough to buy Rio a warm soup tomorrow."

  She had found her only motivation. Her reason to survive.

  She was a mother. And that was all that was left.