Loud sirens pierced the air, red lights flashed back and forth in the sky, and the rumbling from the south slowly disappeared.
In the shadows of the high-rise building, a man fell, blood dripping from his head. He crashed onto the street, bones scattered like brittle glass. A few moments later, another man faced the same predicament. His dying eyes met those of a young man who sat inside a shabby carriage with dark circles under his eyes.
The young man was Donnel—a silver-haired figure with a slim body hidden beneath his unwashed suit. He was a bit surprised, but instead of having an exaggerated response, he turned his attention to a building door, sensing tension inside.
He initially wanted to warn the driver, but he was too busy smoking his tobacco.
Just as Donnel's cheek slightly moved, a man dressed in a tailored suit and a black top hat rushed out, holding a revolver in his hand. He quickly checked his surroundings, pointing his gun in a chaotic manner.
He glared in Donnel's direction and dashed forward, carrying a bag full of money.
Seeing the approaching man, the driver instinctively lashed his horse and tried to run away. The sudden movement of the horse caught Donnel off guard, causing him to bump into one of the sections of the carriage.
As Donnel caressed his head from the impact, a gunshot echoed in his ears. The carriage carrying him slowly stopped, along with the horse's whinnying.
He gently looked outside, but to his dismay, he saw the driver crawling as his chest turned crimson. "Help..." he pleaded.
Donnel gulped, and another gunshot echoed in his ears, ending the man's cry. He watched as the robber approached and knocked on the door.
"Motherfucker! Open the door!" the robber exclaimed.
Donnel calmly pushed the handle, exposing himself to the robber. They locked eyes before the robber dragged him out and shoved the tip of his revolver into the back of his head.
"DRIVE!" the robber urged, the veins bulging from his head.
Donnel momentarily froze, his eyes glaring forward, deep in thought. The impatient robber continued to press his gun, shouting, "I said, drive, motherfucker!"
Donnel briefly inhaled the dusty air filled with various pollutants, which smelled like pungent gas. He got on the horse and drove the carriage for the robber, even though he had never tried driving before, as he was fixated on living his destitute life.
As he drove, he could feel the revolver aimed at his back, like a paintbrush ready to stain his coat red.
Inside was a forty-eight-year-old man contemplating his next move. He and his two companions had just robbed the Center Cazmet Bank, but after he got the money, greed took over his mind as if an infection spread unnoticed.
He was a man carried by the waves of desperation. His story wasn't particularly interesting, nor even strange to begin with. He was a son, a father, a husband, and a friend.
Early in the month of Augen, his gentle mother was diagnosed with a deadly disease. Though his mother was already old, he couldn't bear to do nothing, so he left his job to take care of his bedridden mother. This caused his life to turn upside down. Hearing the news of his actions, his unfaithful wife left him for a more stable man and abandoned their three-year-old son.
Now that the deed was done, he planned to kill Donnel after they reached a certain location, and Donnel was well aware of that fact.
He casually lashed the horse, increasing the carriage's speed. Ahead of them was a boy walking with his father, laughing while holding his hand.
The robber saw this and felt a distant longing surging within him. He pictured himself and his son, but he knew his actions had deprived him of that future.
Suddenly, he noticed the horse's increasing speed as it headed toward the boy. He continuously tapped on the window behind Donnel, yelling, "Motherfucker, what are you doing?"
Donnel slowly turned around and slightly grinned. This made the robber uneasy. Dreadful sweat dripped from his temple. At that moment, he realized something that made him pause and tremble.
Donnel lashed the rope one last time, and that sound made the father turn his head around and see the carriage wheel behind his child. Without hesitation, he tried to pull his son out of the reach of the wheel.
A bone-cracking sound echoed through the robber's ears, along with a piercing scream that made him freeze.
The robber faced a certain reality: he had taken Donnel as a hostage and made him drive the carriage, but that decision was a mistake he never expected. Donnel intentionally ran over a child, and the robber bore the consequences of that action.
Unfortunately, the carriage wheel was broken, significantly reducing its speed. From behind, the guards slowly caught up, cornering the carriage to a stop.
The robber regained his senses, rushed out, and held Donnel at gunpoint. Though he was shaken by what he had witnessed, he had to take measures for his escape. However, the guards slowly appeared in numbers, breaking his morale and leaving him cornered.
"Stay away! Or else I'll kill this motherfucker!" the robber exclaimed, his voice stiff and shaky.
Before the guards could respond, the robber suddenly vomited, staining Donnel's suit. The pungent scent of dead meat quickly reached Donnel's nose, which he promptly closed using his fingers.
That gave the police time to seize him, but instead of grabbing his revolver, they froze in fear. Among them, someone shouted, "What was that?!"
Some guards and police instinctively lowered their arms and abruptly backed away.
Puzzled by their reaction, Donnel turned his gaze behind him and saw the robber's eyes turning black.
With a shaking body, the robber asked, "What's... the matter—"
Before he could finish his question, his neck suddenly snapped, followed by his limbs. Blood began seeping out of his body, leaving everyone in shock.
A piercing scream echoed from his mouth while his teeth turned into a sharp and gaping maw. He jumped and pounced on one of the guards. The police shot their guns, catching the attention of the possessed robber. He launched at them, tore their bodies apart, and drank the crimson liquid pouring from them.
Donnel seized the opportunity. He hid behind the carriage and slipped into the narrow alley. He successfully avoided the rampage, but the robber's transformation made his head spin.
What was that? What I had witnessed? The questions looped endlessly in his head. The longer he thought, the more questions appeared in his mind.
Curiosity was indeed an addictive substance, but this time Donnel suppressed it by thinking about his schedule. It was already past 10 o'clock, and he was late for his classes. His salary was at risk, and he was short on excuses to make—"I was held hostage" probably wouldn't work either!
Although the situation went south, everything he had just done went according to his plan, except for the robber turning into something he didn't recognize.
Driving over the child made him look unsettling and gave the robber time to doubt him. All he did was make it look like he ran over the child's foot, but what he actually hit was a rock, and the rest depended on the robber's mind since he couldn't even see the wheels.
Now, walking toward his workplace is not a practical idea. If he did, he would spend another three hours just to reach the university. An unannounced leave was not even a choice, but what other option did he have? Fly using a bird's wings? Impossible!
He realized that if he had not spent his remaining money on a cup of coffee that morning, he probably would had enough to buy a train ticket.
Well, he thought, walking wasn't a bad idea. Maybe some idiot might let him hop in their carriage and give him a free ride.
At this point, he thought living was a chore—boring and tiresome.
Who's going to argue with him, since he couldn't even afford a friend?
Although he wasn't optimistic about his life choices, he was not so picky that he would throw his life away with incalculable risk.
Simply accepting what he had was enough, and dreaming of material things was not his style.
Although he had no attachment to those things, his hands were different. It was an art he had mastered as an abandoned child needing to survive. However, he had already quit stealing five years ago after being caught by a prominent aristocrat.
While he was deep in thought, a carriage passed him, and he didn't even notice. It stopped and the man took off his hat. He called him out, asking, "Sir! Do you need a ride?"
The man who called out was a driver, wearing a firm and subtle suit that fit him perfectly.
Just by the looks of the carriage, Donnel knew it came from a prominent house, and the driver might be a butler, trained with meticulous attention.
What bothered him was the fact that he was being offered a ride by the butler, which was unusual for them to do without an order since the carriage was empty.
Donnel respectfully bowed his head and said, "Thank you for your grace, but I must refuse, since a lowlife like me wouldn't dare to sit in your master's chair."
The driver smiled and muttered, "Too bad..."
The driver's response fueled Donnel's suspicion. He stepped back and bumped into a tall, masculine man standing behind him with a stern look.
"BASTARD!" Donnel exclaimed before his mouth was covered with a red handkerchief.
The fabric oddly smelled like dry roots, making Donnel imagine a certain tree. Strangely enough, he felt drowsy, and his body grew heavier before he fell asleep.
They dragged him inside the carriage and left with ease, leaving no witnesses or even a trace.
Meanwhile, the robber's rampage had already stopped. A man dressed in a silver coat stood over his body. Behind him was another man leaning against the wall, smoking a cigar while holding Donnel's identification card. He smirked and said, "Give me my cane! Someone escaped!"
The man casually retrieved a stick from the ground and handed it over to him, saying, "Sir Von, I think the cult is involved!"
The man chuckled and tossed his cigar before he whispered, "I wish that were the case..."