Chapter 2: Cold Plates, Quiet Eyes
Ken Rox was seventeen.
Too young for prison, too dangerous for pity.
The court didn't need time — just a narrative.
He had been found near cult territory, accused of arson, and labeled as a potential believer in some unnamed god.
With his father silent and the media howling, the system did what it does best — it passed him on.
Two years in a juvenile detention facility.
Pending further investigation.
No trial. No real chance to explain.
Just a file and a sentence.
---
The heavy door creaked open, the number 204 stenciled in thick black on the concrete wall.
Ken stepped in slowly, the metal of the cuffs biting into his wrists. Behind him, the warden's voice came low and sharp.
"That kid in the corner? His name's Nim. Don't lay a finger on him, cultist murderer. You so much as breathe wrong near him, and you're done."
Ken glanced into the room.
There, in the corner, sat a small boy — maybe ten — legs folded, quietly scribbling on a piece of paper. He looked clean, well-kept. His clothes were neat. His hair combed. He wore a faint smile.
He didn't look dangerous.
He didn't even look like he belonged here.
Ken said nothing. He stepped inside. The door clanged shut behind him.
He moved to the far corner, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. The silence stretched. He kept one eye on the boy.
Then, Nim spoke. "Can you pass me the color box?"
Ken blinked. A small tin lay beside his foot. He hesitated, then slid it across the floor.
"Thanks," Nim said, still smiling.
---
A sharp bell rang through the hallways.
Cafeteria time.
---
Ken stood in the line with the rest of the minors, hands in his pockets. He got his tray—rice, boiled vegetables, half an egg. No one spoke to him. No one shoved him.
They just avoided him.
He sat in the far corner, alone.
Then came Nim.
The kid moved casually through the room with his tray in hand and sat beside Ken as if they'd known each other for years. No hesitation. No fear.
He had an extra piece of egg on his plate. It looked like it had been given to him by the kitchen — a quiet sign that he was liked here.
Nim pushed the egg across toward Ken.
"Here. Take it," he said simply.
Ken looked at it, then at Nim. "Why?"
Nim shrugged. "I don't want it."
Ken was about to refuse — to keep his distance. But then, across the cafeteria, he noticed someone staring at him.
A boy — or a man. Tall, broad-shouldered, sharp eyes under calm brows. He stood like he didn't need to prove anything.
He wasn't glaring. Just watching.
Ken looked around.
Everyone else was ignoring him. But this one... was studying him.
Ken looked back down, then quietly took the egg and added it to his tray.
Nim went back to eating like nothing happened.
From another table, hushed whispers slipped through the air:
"He's trying to get close to Cid Jonsan..."
"Stupid move. Cid doesn't like attention."
Ken didn't say a word.
But something in the room had shifted.
And he knew…
He was already on someone's radar.
---
[End of Chapter 2]