WebNovels

Chapter One – Cast Out

The night was cruel.

Rain fell in long, heavy sheets, soaking the streets until they gleamed under the dim streetlights. Each drop hit Ken's skin like a cold needle, but he didn't stop walking. His clothes clung to his body, thin and drenched, his shoes squelching with every step. The echo of his father's voice still rang in his ears, sharp and unforgiving.

"Get out! You're not my son!"

The door had slammed, and with it, the life he had known ended.

Now, he was just another lost figure in the rain, trying to disappear into the city's endless noise. His hands trembled as he wrapped his arms around himself, more for comfort than warmth. He had nowhere to go. The few friends he'd had wouldn't take him in. He couldn't blame them. In a world that demanded conformity, people like him were easier to erase than defend.

He ducked under an awning beside a closed convenience store, shivering as thunder rumbled in the distance. The smell of wet asphalt and rust filled the air. His breath came out in pale clouds, uneven and frightened. He tried to keep his tears back, but they mixed with the rain, unnoticed.

He looked down at his small, trembling hands. He used to think they were meant for creating beautiful things — drawing, music, something gentle. Now, they looked weak, empty, useless. The city didn't stop for people like him.

A car sped past, sending a splash of dirty water across the sidewalk. Ken flinched, pulling his hood tighter, but the thin fabric did little to help. He wondered if this was how people disappeared — not dramatically, but quietly, until no one remembered their name.

When his stomach growled, he pressed his hand against it, as if that could silence the hunger. He hadn't eaten since morning. The noodles he'd bought with his last few coins were long gone.

He needed to find somewhere to rest. Somewhere dry.

He moved slowly down the alley, guided by the faint glow of streetlamps. His knees ached, his feet blistered, but he kept walking. The city seemed endless, a maze of lights and shadows.

Then, he saw it — a long black car parked by the side of the road, engine humming softly. The windows were tinted, reflecting the world like a mirror. Ken didn't think much of it at first. He just wanted to pass and find shelter near the bridge. But his vision blurred for a second, and before he could steady himself, his foot slipped on the wet ground.

The world tilted.

Headlights flared.

Tires screeched.

A shout broke through the rain.

Ken fell forward, hitting the pavement hard. For a moment, he didn't move. The rain felt distant now, like a lullaby fading away. When he tried to lift his head, everything spun. He thought he heard footsteps — firm, quick, deliberate. Then a voice, deep and calm, cut through the chaos.

"Are you alright?"

It was the kind of voice that carried command without effort.

Ken blinked up, squinting through the rain. A tall man stood above him, holding an umbrella that barely covered them both. The man's expression was unreadable, his dark suit immaculate despite the weather. Only his eyes betrayed concern — steady, sharp, but softened with something Ken couldn't name.

"I… I'm sorry," Ken whispered, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean to—"

"You almost walked into the street," the man said, kneeling down. His hand brushed Ken's shoulder, firm but gentle. "You're freezing. Where do you live?"

Ken hesitated. His lips trembled, words caught in his throat. "I… I don't have anywhere."

The man's gaze lingered on him for a moment, then shifted to the bruises near his jawline, the raw skin on his hands, the way his body shook from exhaustion. Something dark flickered in his eyes — not anger, but sympathy carefully hidden beneath control.

"Can you stand?"

Ken nodded weakly, though he wasn't sure he could. The man helped him up, steadying him with a hand at his back. Ken was smaller than he looked — fragile, almost weightless.

"What's your name?" the man asked.

"Ken."

"I'm Alexander," he said simply.

There was power in that name, though Ken didn't recognize it yet.

When Ken swayed again, Alexander caught him before he could fall. Without another word, he guided him toward the car, opening the back door. Warm air spilled out, carrying the faint scent of leather and cologne. Ken hesitated at the threshold, unsure if he should trust a stranger — especially one who looked like he belonged in another world.

"It's alright," Alexander said, noticing his hesitation. "You're safe."

Something in his tone, firm but calm, made Ken believe him. He climbed inside, curling up against the seat as Alexander closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. The sound of rain softened as the car began to move.

Ken leaned his head against the window, watching the lights blur past. His eyelids felt heavy, but he forced himself to stay awake. He didn't know where this man was taking him, and yet… for the first time in days, he didn't feel afraid.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," Alexander said quietly as he drove.

"I didn't have a choice," Ken murmured. His voice cracked, barely audible.

Alexander didn't respond immediately. He only glanced at the boy again — pale, soaked, shaking — and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He had seen many broken things in his life — businesses, deals, reputations — but never something this fragile.

When they stopped in front of a large mansion, Ken's eyes widened. The building loomed behind tall gates, bathed in soft white light.

"I'll have someone prepare a room for you," Alexander said. "You can rest there tonight. We'll talk in the morning."

Ken tried to speak, but his voice failed. The kindness felt unreal. Why would a man like this help someone like him?

Alexander stepped out and opened the door for him. As they walked inside, the warmth of the house wrapped around Ken like a blanket. The marble floor gleamed, the air smelled faintly of jasmine and rain.

Mrs. Cole, the housekeeper, appeared from the hallway, startled by the sight of the drenched stranger.

"Get him a towel and something warm to wear," Alexander said, his voice low but commanding.

Mrs. Cole nodded immediately.

Ken stood there, dripping and speechless, staring at the man who had just changed his night — maybe his entire life — with one act of compassion.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Alexander gave a slight nod. "Rest. We'll talk when you're ready."

As Ken followed Mrs. Cole upstairs, he glanced back one last time. Alexander stood by the doorway, watching the rain fall beyond the glass, his reflection caught in the dim light, a man who didn't yet know how much saving another could change his own soul.

And somewhere deep inside, for the first time in a long while, Ken felt a small flicker of warmth, something that almost felt like hope.

More Chapters