Aria had always searched for answers in distant places, yet now another problem stood right at her feet. She felt it deep inside—once again, the universe had spoken to her—but at the same time she remained calm, because she believed this person, no matter how hard he tried, could never truly harm her.
In her resided something everyone desired: a vision that understood everything in the universe, and a precious stone. This stone opened human perception to comprehend every thing and every intention in existence. Cayden had no interest in such matters, yet the things he could possess were limitless. He simply tried to get through the day. For this man who felt inherently noble despite his short-term money and fast life, everything in society had become merely a tool to be used.
Cayden's voice blended into the background noise on the phone.
"That girl knowing everything could mean the end of it all," he said.
He had no idea how truly innocent Aria was. But the world didn't hear anyone who hadn't truly proven their nobility. Only a simple "Yes, you're right" came back. Now it was data speaking, not emotions—but inside Cayden, there still burned a small fire he protected from all other humans. That emotional structure contained both empathy and destruction. Whoever stood in his way, he had already decided to eliminate. Yet the mere thought that someone like her might not deserve it made him unwilling to even consider it. That would mean opening himself up—and so far, he had made no exceptions.
After all, so much knowledge corrupts everyone, doesn't it?
These thoughts circled in his head as he repeated his usual mantra: Just do the job and move on. The familiar coldness had once again settled over his face.
To Cayden, Aria—who played her cards more openly—found herself cornered in an alley, her feet frozen to the ground in shock. The man who had tormented her since childhood had sent his lackeys again, this time perhaps just for fun, or to extract information. Normally she could have handled them, but right now she had no strength left to react. She was paralyzed—not just from the shock of the situation, but from the fear of how much lower this man could sink.
Yet deep inside, she felt a strange sympathy toward him. It stemmed from the events of her childhood, when she was still pure and innocent, and terrible things happened to her. A voice inside her kept whispering that she needed to be useful again—as a defense mechanism against the man who, back then, had forced or beaten information out of her. Even though she could twist the people here around her finger, this man claimed a noble lineage.
She clenched her fists to calm herself. She would only say a couple of useless, empty words. After all, not everyone could hear the voice of the universe—and Aria was in the city of slaves. Here, almost anything was legal as long as you didn't get involved in the big games. Of course, occasional unimportant injustices were cleaned up for show, but in her case none of that would help.
For the first time since childhood—when she had learned to talk to this man professionally, to set her emotions aside just to not feel useless—she managed to keep her cool. Seeing his lackeys fall back into the same childish behavior they'd had for years only strengthened her composure.
A part of her heart had remained broken because of this. There had never truly been the concept of family. At first she had opened up to this man—who occasionally asked for her help—with the warmth of family. Then the insults she received reminded her that all bonds were superficial and temporary.
Just as the urge to escape an event overwhelmed her and she tried to catch her breath in a side street, far from the whole world, she was forced once again to read the emptiness of everything on these men's faces.
Childhood traumas don't fade easily. While trying to erase them from her consciousness by seeing them reflected in their eyes, she had lost so much time that one of the men finally spoke:
"Just give us some information and we'll leave."
She knew it didn't matter whether she lied or told the truth—they would come back again. And when the information she gave gradually became worthless, they would kill her.
Would things have been different if she had a real family? She couldn't help but wonder, but a voice inside her only wanted to exist as herself. The world that had given Sean the chance to do this to her must truly be rotten. He had said a girl would be killed and that they had to play the bad side. In the end, Sean only cared about money transfers in the market. The child inside her never forgave him—but he had also played a part in shaping who she was now. Deep down, she felt sympathy. Perhaps that was what Nietzsche meant by staring too long into the abyss and becoming one of them.
"Is that all? We already know all this. We didn't know the girl was on the good side," one of them muttered—the bald man dressed inappropriately even for winter, though that was street fashion here. Looking cool with minimal effort was enough. People had bigger problems than the cold.
"Enough," Aria said.
The men—and the one woman among them—shook their heads in irritation and unease, then did exactly as she told them. They knew words didn't affect her anymore; only logic worked.
Meanwhile Cayden was thinking, Where the hell am I supposed to find this girl?—unaware of how much he had just insulted her by reducing her to that. He looked at the incoming message: She has a connection to Sean. You can find her through him.
Cayden's face twisted. The idea of going to this untrustworthy, two-faced man filled him with unnecessary stress. His honest nature only truly emerged when defending what was right, not when deceiving people.
Aria let out a sigh.
"One day all this meaninglessness will end and I'll reach something real."
Now there was no one left to listen. She was out of sight, just as she wanted. In that empty alley, when no one was around, her eyes seemed to transform into something else, watching her from the walls of the street. Whether it was intuition or not, whenever she was truly alone with herself, good things happened—and that was something no human could ever replicate or imitate, no matter how hard they tried.
And so it continued…