The city was louder than usual, or maybe it was just me noticing. Every footstep, every shout, every car horn felt sharper, more deliberate. Glora wasn't quiet it never was but today, the sounds carried weight, as if the city itself was watching.
I stepped off the rooftop carefully, feeling the concrete rough under my bare feet. My notebook was tucked under my arm, scribbled pages pressed close, as if it could somehow protect me from what was coming.
I didn't have to wait long.
At the end of the alley, three figures leaned against the wall. Shadows of people, but they moved like predators. One flicked a knife between his fingers lazily, a grin stretched across his face. The others laughed quietly, eyes scanning me like I was an experiment.
I froze, instincts kicking in. Breathe slow, observe, calculate.
"Hey, Waza," the tallest one said, voice low, "you lost or looking for trouble?"
I shook my head. "Just passing." My voice sounded smaller than I wanted.
"Passing, huh?" Another stepped forward, the knife glinting. "No one just passes here. Not unless they're asking for trouble."
I didn't flinch. My eyes tracked every twitch, every movement. These weren't supernatural threats. These were humans greedy, hungry, dangerous. Their traits were obvious: arrogance, testing boundaries, hunger for control.
I weighed my options. Turn back? Run? Fight? Every instinct screamed survival.
"Look," I said carefully, keeping my hands visible, "I don't want any trouble. Just let me go."
The tallest laughed, sharp and cruel. "You think words save you?"
Then the smallest of the three a wiry kid, maybe no older than me stepped closer, face unreadable. Something about him unsettled me more than the knife. His eyes weren't aggressive. They were calculating. Watching. Waiting.
That pause… that hesitation gave me time. I moved, quick, side-stepping past the kid and the tallest, using their momentum against them. The laughter turned into curses behind me, but I kept moving, heart hammering, ears sharp to the echoes of the alley.
I didn't stop until I reached a quieter street, away from the gang. My legs were shaking slightly. Hands gripping the notebook tighter than necessary. My chest felt heavy. Not from running from the knowledge that every person I met carried their own weight, their own silent game.
And the kid… that kid's calm, precise observation lingered in my mind. Not fear, not anger, not loyalty something else. Something I couldn't read.
Later, on the rooftop, notebook open, I wrote down every detail: the knife, the laughter, the eyes, the pauses. Human traits. They mattered. More than power, more than fights. Understanding them meant surviving them.
I leaned back, staring at the city below. Glora didn't feel bigger tonight. It felt… alive. Full of stories, threats, and decisions waiting to be made.
And for the first time, loneliness didn't just weigh on me it sharpened me.