Time thinned inside their bubble. The city sparkled in V's eyes, the stars above shone like diamonds, footsteps around them muffled, lighter than feathers.
Eve's hand gripped his tight. V stared at their joined fingers, ears burning red, fighting the cold.
Then his gaze drifted left—drawn to the alley. His feet halted. The sudden stop tugged her hand; Eve stumbled back, eyes snapping to him.
"What's up? Why'd you stop?" Her voice reached him, but his ears rang, muting the sound. His head turned toward the alley, iris narrowing, vision sharpening. The dark thickened, turning muddy.
Shapes stirred in the murk. Men—two… no, four. Cloaked, hoods hiding their faces. Chains scraped the ground, dragging over concrete, the metallic clatter slicing into V's ears. For a split second, his eyes caught a small figure hunched beside the cloaked men.
A child. Chains bit into its wrists, rattling against the floor, each clang smothering its broken whimpers.
V's brow tightened. He reached a hand into the divide between light and alley-dark. The air there was colder, heavier, like it didn't want him crossing.
One of the men moved. Shadows peeled as he turned his head.
V froze. A face—no, not a face.
A mask. White and jagged, stark against the blur of cloaks. A spiral carved in black twisted across it, endless, pulling his gaze inward.
The hairs on his arms spiked. Sweat slid down his cheek, hot against the chill. His chest squeezed tight.
Then—
"Excuse me… could you help me out here?"
The voice came from behind. Too close. Too calm.
V staggered. A bead of sweat hit the concrete like a pin-drop. His head jerked around.
Cold breath choked in his lungs.
Teeth rattled.
A shadow loomed, blotting out the light.
"You… can definitely help, right?" Kevin's teeth flashed in a wide smile, but his eyes promised the opposite.
V's face warped like The Scream, skin drained pale. His gaze crept down Kevin's arm—
Eve was wedged under his elbow, pinned to his ribs like a feisty cat. One hand clutched her cheek while the other gave V a frantic little wave.
"Why hello ther—ack!" Kevin gave her a squeeze, squishing her back into place.
Her grin faltered, wobbling. "Hehe… busted, am I right?" she squeaked, flashing a shaky peace sign before Kevin shoved her head down like a kid in time-out.
"You little brats!" Kevin's smile twisted into a roar—
"AHHHH—!" V's shriek split the air, startling a bird from the fourth-floor window.
A while passed. Slow, smoky jazz curled through the air, mixing with the tang of spilled liquor that stung the nose. Beer glasses thumped against tables, froth sliding down their sides. Laughter burst from groups of men—some bobbing their heads, some slumping over their drinks until their noses smacked the darkwood.
"Two refills, missy!" a man shouted from the back, waving his empty glass.
"Right away!" A young girl with burnt-umber hair and a white apron darted through the crowd, her shoes drumming the floorboards as she rushed for the counter.
V's gaze followed her, then slid to the bartender. The man worked with calm focus, polishing a glass with a cloth. A beard spilled to his chest, his hair bound and hidden beneath a wrapped cloth.
"Here's your order—enjoy!" the server chirped, setting plates down. V's eyes flicked toward her, then drifted to the bump rising on Eve's head.
"Man… this stings," Eve muttered, rubbing the knot in circles.
"You reap what you sow." Kevin plucked the cigarette from his lips and crushed it in the ashtray beside him.
"But you could've gone a bit softer, y'know? Boo!" Eve stuck her tongue out, still kneading the sore spot.
V's lips twitched into a faint smile before he turned away. The pub walls glistened with an oily sheen, hung with faded landscapes in crooked frames. The server plopped a plate in front of him, pulling him back to the present.
A fluffy warmth enveloped V as his gaze dropped to the plate: creamy curry, thick with chunks of meat and potato, piled over a bed of rice. Steam laced with garam masala stung his nose, and he swallowed hard, his mouth watering.
"This looks so good! Down the hatch!" Eve cried, fork poised like a weapon, drool sliding down her lips. V glanced at her plate—still sizzling. The steak hit the plate with a sharp szzt, garlic sauce running over the charred beef, mashed potatoes piled on the side. Steam curled up, carrying the peppery bite of thyme that cut through the heaviness.
The server dropped the last tray — buffalo wings swimming in hot sauce. A squeeze of lemon cut through the spice, bright and tangy. Kevin didn't wait. He crunched into a wing, jaw grinding in slow circles, then tipped back the jug of ale. A few gulps later, he pulled away with a thunderous burp.
"Now that's good stuff."
V blinked at the jug until Kevin shoved it aside. His eyes dropped to his own tray.
"It ain't gonna bite back, y'know?" Eve teased, shoving steak into her mouth with a grin.
V picked up his spoon, the metal cool against his fingertips. He dipped it into the rice and curry, lifted it halfway, then froze. His throat worked as if swallowing early, a bead of sweat sliding down his cheek. The spoon wobbled in the air, hovered, edged closer. His lips parted, hesitated—then shut again. Finally, with a shaky breath, he stuffed it in.
His eyes snapped wide. The spice bit his tongue, making his mouth water as the tender chicken tore apart with ease, warmth spreading all the way to his core. Tension melted from his muscles like wax from a lit candle.
"Ah⁓ this is heaven, I tell you! Way better than Kevin's cooking." Eve clapped her hands together, spoon still trapped between her palms. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she chewed with a huge grin.
Kevin shot her a look over his ale. "You can cook your own damn meals next time." He slammed the mug down, foam sloshing, and snatched up a wing. With a sharp bite, he tore into it.
"But Kevin's cooking is really good, though," V said, mouth half-full, chewing lazy circles of curry.
"Don't be fooled, V. The only things this unc's good at are chugging beers and gawking at gals." Eve wagged her fork at him, the piece of steak tracing sloppy circles around his head.
"Pipe down, kids. I'm locked on a ten-outta-ten baddie right now."
"WHERE?!" Eve snapped her head left and right so fast her chair squeaked, one hand shading her eyes like a lookout.
"Shush, you'll expose us," Kevin muttered, cupping his hands over his mouth as he eyed the girl across the way — tall, jet-black hair spilling down, a gum bubble snapping between her lips. A coat draped over her tank top, tight enough to show her shape.
Eve dragged a chair beside him with a squeal and plopped down, flicking on a pair of shades she'd pulled from God-knows-where. "Damn… that's a nice piece right there."
"I know, my niece… I know." Kevin nodded solemnly, both of them murmuring like conspirators while V just kept chewing, unimpressed.
A few glasses of ale later, Kevin hunched over the table, suddenly jerking his head up.
"Hic—Listen well, V my boy! You gotta keep your eyes sharp if ya wanna find a good gal—hic!" He wagged a finger, tracing lazy circles above V's head before slamming nose-first into the table.
"Ah- Unc's gone now," Eve said, draining the last of her juice.
"I ain't drunk! Whaddya mean—hic!" Kevin's hand fumbled for another glass, tipping it back. Nothing came out. He shook it, and a single drop splashed onto the wood.
Around them, the banter had quieted. V noticed the server stacking chairs and wiping sweat from her brow. She came over, a polite smile in place.
"Sorry to interrupt, but the pub's closing. You booked rooms here, right?"
V set down his glass. "Ah, y-yes, that's us—" His voice cracked halfway through. The server chuckled. "Well aren't you a cutie? Your rooms are ready—just head upstairs." She waved and walked off.
"Wow~ Look at that grin. Makes me wanna strangle you," Eve muttered flatly, elbow propped on the table.
"What? Why?!" V spun around, his smile faltering.
"The lad's already makin' moves!" Kevin slurred, piling on fuel.
The floor creaked with each step. Hunched over, V bore the weight of Kevin's limp arm slung across his shoulder as he carried him down the corridor. Ahead, Eve sauntered, glancing at the number on the key in her hand.
"This is me." She pointed to the door on her right, then leaned against the frame, arms crossed. "You sure you'll be alright?"
"Yeah, he's a lot lighter than he looks."
"Nah, man, that's just you." Her brows pinched together, the corners of her lips quirking up. She yawned. "Alrighty then, I'll leave you to it. G'night."
The door shut, and silence seeped in. A deep sigh drifted down the corridor. With his free hand, V shoved it into his pocket, metal clinking until he fished out a key marked 207.
"205… 206… Ah, 207."
The key slid into the lock—click. The door moaned open, and a faint, amber glow spilled out to meet him. Hardwood floors. A narrow bed. A table beneath the window. The scene looked ordinary, almost welcoming.
V sank toward the bed, but Kevin slid from his shoulder, collapsing onto the pillow with a muffled thud.
"Ah—my bad," V muttered.
Kevin stirred, clutching the pillow as if it were a jug. "More… booze…" His words fogged against the fabric, then sank back into sleep.
"Phew⁓" V's shoulders sagged. He turned away, each step drawing a creak from the boards—clack… clack…—until the door shut softly behind him.
The next key waited in his pocket. 208. Right across.
He pushed it in, but the lock caught halfway.
"Wha—" He tugged, twisted. The key refused.
"Why you—" He shoved with his shoulder. The metal bit, then yielded.
The door inched open.
Silence.
A draft slipped through, brushing cold fingers over his cheek, teasing his bangs back. The air smelled faintly of dust and iron.
"…Weird. I remember that room. That feeling it left…"
He stepped inside. The floorboards, so eager to complain a moment ago, stayed still. Clack. Just the latch settling behind him.
The layout was the same as Kevin's, but stripped bare. No lantern. No warmth. The curtains shifted in the moonlight like pale shapes breathing against the glass.
V's eyes lingered too long on the movement. The cloth seemed to strain toward him before settling back into stillness.
"…I should go to bed." His voice fell flat in the air.
He turned, dropped face-first into the pillow, and let the weight of his eyelids pull him under.
Midnight.
V shivered under the blanket, though sweat streamed across his face, soaking the sheets. His brows knit tight as he writhed, muttering into the fabric—
"Wha… want… s… stop…"
The room around him widened, warped. Cold water lapped at his ankles. Shadows twisted, thickening with every shriek that pierced the dark. Heat pressed against the chill, fever burning in his veins. His nails dug into his face as though anchoring him, his eye flickering beneath their shadow.
Budump. Budump. A heartbeat pounded beside his ear.
"Ah—" He jolted awake, gasping. His hair clung, drenched in sweat. The cold air sliced through the fever's remnants. He shoved the blanket aside, sitting up, swiping the back of his hand across his brows.
The curtains still swayed in the moonlight. His eyes lingered, uneasy.
"What time is it…?" He scratched the back of his head, turning to the nightstand.
A beaker caught his eye. His throat tightened. He reached for the glass.
Nothing.
The skin of his palm met only air. V frowned, reaching again—but the glass eluded him, cold surface never touching his skin.
His eyes widened. "W-What… is…"
This time his hand slid through the glass itself. The rim jutted from the back of his palm like a trick of the light. He froze, mouth half-open, unable to blink.
Slowly, he pulled back. His fingers clenched, nails biting into his own skin as if to remind himself it was still there. Heat flared in his chest, threatening to burst free.
His hands shook. His breath came shallow, hushed, rasping in the quiet.
"S… something's not right…"