Lukacs and Zoé walked out of the shopping mall. People rushed past them, an ambulance wailed in the distance, and a small crowd had gathered in the parking lot. Lukacs glanced toward the people, briefly considering whether to send the entire group after the boy with a single snap of his fingers. Then he realized he didn’t have enough charge for that. He’d need to recharge soon—preferably tonight.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfVjmdfdffe
He reached into the pocket of his coat where he kept his cigarette heating device. Without a word, he handed it, along with all the refills, to Zoé, then took her hand and led her across the street.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJwjm5LOlYt
They’d have to find another store since they couldn’t pay for the items they’d picked out here—after all, a young boy had suddenly fallen ill...
...
They stood in front of the supermarket across the street while Lukacs studied the display window.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4ZckTMDy5U
‘When we get home, I want a rematch,’ he declared, speaking more to his own reflection in the glass than to Zoé, who was smoking beside him.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡF2k3OnHBrc
The girl covered her mouth with her hand.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmDiTMghmZS
‘I thought you’d be satisfied with this much. I really wanted that warrior figurine. I had to leave it because of you.’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhBA0N7s8XF
‘You could’ve just taken it,’ Lukacs shrugged.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdoQyNbSOPK
‘And you’d handle the cops?’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ0QmU1Yn4jZ
Lukacs shrugged again. Zoé exhaled smoke and flicked the spent refill away. The butt spun through the air, bounced off the curb, and rolled under the cars. Lukacs looked at the girl, who held out the device to him with her large yellow eyes.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWrknkgeBGv
‘Keep it. I’ll buy myself another one,’ he said.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOIEviUAXda
Zoé tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with sudden realization.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnNIuP5Cy3b
‘So this is how you make me owe you. Clever.’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtc4wKsjkla
Lukacs sighed.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaT9orHfCKL
‘Rematch?’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡaVgqzMH1xj
‘Rematch.’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkXQQutwwEa
Lukacs nodded in satisfaction. Zoé grinned.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡo32rMnQ8vq
‘But I’m only playing for fun today. Hope you don’t mind.’ She twirled into the motion-sensor doors, arms outstretched. ‘So, are you coming, or what?’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrMdO2krpox
Lukacs spat on the ground.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBpGTE0CkHp
His saliva didn’t hit the pavement until after they’d already disappeared between the aisles. It slid down the supermarket’s glass wall, right where Lukacs’s own reflection had stared back at him moments earlier.
...
They piled the most diverse assortment of chips, nachos, gummies, chocolates, plush toys, and beers into their shopping carts. Zoé only filled two carts, but for Lukacs, that was more than enough. Some shoppers lined up at the windows to watch the ambulance parked in front of the other supermarket.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡROSxLwPO8L
‘What happened there?’ they murmured.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVEdpsVFaei
‘Someone got sick,’ an old woman muttered.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgdi1zoCW7X
‘Probably because of the prices, like in that Sheep O. Slaveman story.’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS6SUKfirCV
‘Which one?’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvmdnsCyod5
‘You know, the...’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhJugRb7Dbq
Lukacs waved dismissively. He knew Sheep O. Slaveman’s dystopian tales but had never related to them. The protagonist always found himself in situations with no way out—facing unaffordable prices for items anyone should be able to buy; caught in bomb threats at malls where you couldn’t leave without paying first, and only with a card, and so on. Lukacs thought it was all utterly bland and pointless. No one cared about another person’s suffering; no one cared about anyone else’s fate. Why should a poor man read stories satirizing his grim reality? And why should a rich man read about the exploitation of the poor in critical, sarcastic prose? It was meaningless.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcQDhz829qb
Lukacs was still shaking his head when he and Zoé got in line to pay. In front of them stood a slick-haired, greasy-looking bureaucrat, chattering into the phone pressed to his chest. When he noticed them, he turned and asked:72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡq6UAObJohI
‘Do you know what happened across the street?’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAQlhdcsMIl
‘I snapped my fingers, and someone had a heart attack,’ Lukacs replied.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrQsOQodoVg
Zoé burst out laughing, and the bureaucrat nodded blankly before returning to his call.
‘No, darling, I didn’t learn anything; some dad was joking earlier. No, darling, I can’t get you anything from there. You’ll have to settle for what’s here...’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPXQB0TuXaA
Lukacs sighed. Zoé nudged his arm and pointed to a rack of Kinter Bountys near the register.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpBh28BrrEU
‘Want one?’ she asked.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBz0CJ447u1
‘I want to split it with you.’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡr4WzXBtyFa
‘Oh, how sweet,’ Lukacs replied sarcastically, tossing a handful of Bountys into the cart with exaggerated flair. Half of them fell, which wasn’t surprising given the mountain of chips they’d already built. Smiling, Zoé crouched to gather the chocolates. Casually, she added:72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFtndd0AwoQ
‘I still want to go buy a phone and some new games for the Gamestation afterward.’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiUkdC4CLN9
‘Sure.’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmZhtRApoSJ
‘I won, remember?’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEbpHSz2BDd
‘Shut your mouth.’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTzs6icFJo8
Zoé giggled again.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡamTQ9R4mTE
‘You’re so funny, Lukacs. Did I ever tell you that?’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjqfbBOlEkh
Lukacs shook his head, ignoring her.
The bureaucrat quickly paid—with a Black Card, of course—and rushed out to the parking lot. Lukacs was sure the man was one of the wealthy from Silk Valley. Thinking harder, he might’ve seen him before. Lukacs watched him closely, even ignoring the cashier as Zoé began placing their items on the counter.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5qsxgkWuHm
What kind of car does he drive?72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPkBVlzu6Pu
Standing on tiptoe, he spied the man getting into a plain white Nustang from two years ago and backing out of the lot. Lukacs exhaled in relief. He doesn’t have a better car than me. He unclenched his fist, realizing he’d been ready to snap if the unyielding truth demanded it.
He turned to help Zoé, noticing the cashier’s disapproving glance for not assisting his "daughter."72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6XbpyCMl4w
‘Is there a problem, kid?’ he asked the cashier, clearly a student worker.
Once, Lukacs had worked too—though not for long. Until the day he found the wallet. But as a teen, he spent afternoons behind a register, working late to help his father and brother, and to afford weekend outings. Memories of those days flashed before his eyes like a distant, faded film.
Those drunken nights by the Ren River near his high school; stolen kisses from classmates; hazy, lavender-tinged rooms filled with the scent of passion. He saw the boy he used to be—charming, angelic, a true ladies’ man. Those teenage nights lived forever in his heart, an eternal homage to his past self.
Of course, everything had changed the day he found the wallet now resting in his coat’s inner pocket—the wallet that gave him everything and took it all away.
I should’ve left it where it was.
The student silently scanned their items while Zoé packed them.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRKBAmnAlST
‘Cash or card, sir?’ the cashier finally asked.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡewxdv1j9XS
‘Cash.’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeN3uFI2aBB
‘That’ll be 120 Till.’
Lukacs reached for the warm leather wallet, breathing faintly, as if alive. Inside was the exact amount, along with two black cards engraved with the image of Sheramiel, the rebel archangel. He handed over 120 Till, then stuffed the remaining ten thousand into the cashier’s pocket. The boy stammered in protest:72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmh5EyqBOba
‘But, sir...’72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsTZq8wKFyP
Lukacs grabbed his vest and stared deeply into his eyes.72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4dgGzpVPJb
‘Keep it, son.’
...
They walked out just as the deceased boy’s body was being loaded into the ambulance. Lukacs shook his head, pushing their cart toward the car. Zoé followed happily, loading the trunk. Lukacs glanced at the crying girl beside the ambulance and considered killing her too—it would be merciful. Ultimately, he dismissed the idea, savoring her suffering. Maybe he’d ask Sheramiel or Braxas for her address, just for fun.
‘I could use a smoke,’ he muttered.
Zoé silently handed him the device. Lukacs’s eyes briefly glimmered with an unusual mix of emotion—gratitude, perhaps. He waved her off and resumed packing.
‘Forget it, Zoé. I already promised to get another one.’
72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ65v6365Hmf
72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYP0qH8WoYk
important note: "Till" is the same like USD
ns18.226.104.194da2
