The door opened, and Slady stepped out waving with his mechanical arm. The sunlight hit his face, making him cover his eyes, the wind stirring his hair. He put his hands in his pockets, feeling that some coins were still left.
In the library, at noon, Shaphira rubbed her face, ears drooping, walking slowly to the kitchen to grab carrots, peppers and other vegetables from the fridge. Later, she stirred a wooden spoon through the liquid in a pot, her nose twitching as she caught the smell.
The door opened, and her eyes went wide, her ears shot up and she dropped everything to run to Slady, hugging him and rubbing her face against him. He sighed, stroked her hair and set the clothes down on the floor, suggesting she try them on right away, since she could exchange them if they didn't fit, while he took care of the food.
Shaphira smiled, knelt down and dug her hands into the bag, leaving loose fur scattered over the clothes. She pulled out a dress, held it up in the air and, without hesitating, swapped her apron for the new piece. Slady went to the kitchen, tasted the soup with the wooden spoon and let out a sound of approval.
Minutes later, already on the sofa, he closed his eyes, savoring the soup while Shaphira squirmed uncomfortably inside the clothing, letting out a yelp when her tail got caught in the fabric. He set the soup aside and offered to help her.
Shortly after, she looked over her own clothes with a pout, now with a cut that let her tail swing freely, and thanked him, saying she had really liked the clothes. He answered that it was nothing, she deserved it.
She drank the soup all at once, crawled over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, hiding her face in his belly, declaring he was the best father in the world. Puzzled by the word, he asked where she had learned it, and she answered it was from the dictionary, and that she had understood he was her father. He tried to clarify that it wasn't literal, but she said it didn't matter, that he was the best, she loved him.
He said her name slowly, lowering his hands until they touched her head, feeling her ears sway at the touch. He pulled her closer, letting her nestle against his neck, holding her tight against himself. His breathing lost its rhythm, his face hiding in her fur at his shoulder, his eye closing hard, his mind growing more sensitive, until reality slipped away for a moment.
One of his eyes opened onto a memory. Construction platforms rose and fell, men carrying materials in the background. In front of him, a familiar house. He knocked on the door twice, calling for Mr. and Mrs. Vick. A woman with deep circles under her eyes answered, what did he want? And a man appeared beside her, eyes damp, asking the same thing. In the living room, a little girl watched a children's show, completely absorbed.
He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. He understood the hardship of the past few days. The two of them nodded. But, unfortunately, before he finished the sentence, the woman's expression broke into tears, and she dropped to her knees, denying it could be true. The man, eyes wide, turned to Slady, demanding to know why he hadn't saved them, since he was their friend, grabbing him by the shirt and lifting him up, asking where he had been while they died. Slady admitted he hadn't been nearby.
The fist came straight at him. The woman begged him to stop, but the blows kept coming, one after another, heavier each time, the man shouting that he should have died in their place. Teeth fell, blood ran down Slady's face, his breathing faltering, but his expression never changed.
The little girl appeared in the doorway, curled up, calling for her father. The man stopped, looked at his own hands, let Slady go and hugged his wife and daughter, asking them not to look at that. The door closed.
Slady stayed on the ground, looking up at the sky, his heart beating hard enough to force his eyes shut. The clouds darkened, rain began to fall, covering everything, until only silence remained.
Reality returned. Shaphira slept on the sofa, purring, while Slady sat in front of the computer, fingers on the keyboard, looking through the names of criminals under investigation by Libretanhya's Criminal Investigation office. He switched sites, the screen went dark, and a request appeared. He read it, watched the video with the volume low, coughed lightly and weighed the offered payment before typing his answer. Minutes later, he was already gathering information on the target.
Yai Chang, twenty eight years old, criminal record piling up armed robbery, murder, sexual and physical abuse, drug trafficking and torture.
The transfer was confirmed close to midnight. Slady grabbed his two pistols, put on his hat and, looking at Shaphira, wished her a good sleep. As he stepped out, the rain covered his face, and he adjusted his overcoat over his shoulders, his heart beating, now, more slowly.
***
In Libretanhya, Slady walked through the silence of the streets, only faint distant murmurs coming from the few civilians still left. Crossing an alley, a colored light caught his attention. an abandoned building glowed ahead.
The door creaked open. The smell of alcohol made him cover his nose. Men played cards, others sprawled drunk on the floor with bottles in hand, and half naked women danced slowly on iron poles. But two serious faces, a man and a woman, stood out among the scene.
He sat at the counter. A bartender in short clothes came over, forcing a smile, asking if he wanted anything, maybe the VIP service for a good price. When he asked what that meant, she just discreetly pointed to a man in the corner, where a woman with bare buttocks rubbed against his lap while he struck her body, leaving marks. Slady turned his gaze back to the bartender and asked only for wine.
She poured a glass, and he drank with his eyes closed, declaring it was perfect. When she, impressed, asked if he wanted more, a touch on his shoulder interrupted him. It was the serious man, who asked him to come along, opening his coat to show identification. Roger Trager, criminal investigator of Libretanhya. Behind him, arms crossed, stood Rin Yuang, also an investigator.
Slady shrugged, left coins on the counter and followed them without complaint. In a more secluded corner, Rin explained they were there investigating a gang suspected of operating out of that location, and he asked what that had to do with him. Faced with the glance exchanged between the two, Roger stepped forward, saying he believed the man hadn't just come there to have fun, and that, if he were honest about his intentions, he might actually make it home that night.
Roger partially lifted his coat, revealing two daggers and handcuffs at his waist. Slady asked if he should take that as a threat. Roger denied it, calling it a warning from someone who cared about the city's safety. He answered he had nothing to declare, being just an ordinary man satisfying his own desires.
The two investigators frowned, but headed toward the door, until he called them back, saying he had something to say.
When they turned around, there was nothing there anymore. A sudden exhaustion took over their bodies, and everything went dark.
In a room, several men sat around a table while their leader, Yai Chang, mapped out drug selling routes, a woman kneeling before him performing a forced sexual act.
One of the men, blowing out smoke, remarked that route wasn't good, too much police around, and Yai Chang agreed, before striking the woman across the face for pausing for a moment, ordering her to keep going, even with tears in her eyes.
A sound echoed from the ceiling. Yai Chang, irritated, shoved the woman aside, cursing whoever was responsible for the noise, and put on his brass knuckles while the others grabbed weapons, all leaving the room. The woman stayed behind, trembling, covering her body, eyes full of tears.
Dragging unconscious bodies, Slady lifted his head at the sound of the door being flung open violently. Yai Chang, seeing the unconscious officers and the unknown man, shouted a curse, banging his metal fists together while his partners raised their weapons.
Slady dropped the bodies, pulled a capsule from his overcoat and threw it to the ground, filling the room with toxic smoke that made the men cough uncontrollably, some fainting, except Yai Chang, who remained standing.
When the smoke cleared, he saw Slady in front of him and charged forward shouting a curse, while the men still standing opened fire. Slady spun his pistols, fired back and pulled against the wall. Yai Chang punched the wall near his head, but he ducked and struck back with his mechanical arm, hitting the jaw. Then he pulled out another capsule, forced his hand into the man's mouth and dropped the device into his throat, making it explode and flood his lungs with gas.
Yai Chang dropped to his knees, coughing without stopping, tears streaming, hands stretched toward Slady, who only watched, expressionless, until everything went dark.
At Libretanhya's Criminal Investigation Department, Rin Yuang woke on a comfortable surface, her body responding slowly. She checked her phone. three in the morning. The memories came back little by little, and she got up, still dressed, staggering down the hallway until she found Roger, also just waking up. Without exchanging a word, the two of them left.
Arriving at the scene, Rin dropped to her knees and threw up in front of the criminals' bodies, arranged like puppets, forming a macabre display. Opening a door, they found a group of women, among them, the bartender.
Roger watched Rin step away and knelt in front of them, assuring them they were safe now. Some let out sighs of relief, others cried or held each other. Sitting on the floor, he asked who had put them there, and the answer came uncertain, saying they had fainted and woken up in that place, not remembering anything else. He asked them to follow him, with their eyes closed.
On the second floor, Rin covered her mouth at the smell, following it to a door. Opening it, her body froze, her stomach turned, and she dropped, throwing up. There was no blood, no outward sign of struggle. Only Yai Chang, naked, no eyes, no teeth, parts of his body missing.
Empty.
***
The bell rang. A dark shoe stepped in, staining the rug. A boy, distracted by his phone, spun in his chair without paying attention. Slady walked over to him, staring without the young man reacting, and went to a table to grab a menu before returning to the counter, finding the boy still lost in his phone.
He pressed his lips together, looking down at his own gloves stained red, even wiping a mark against his own face without noticing. Lowering his hands, he sighed and ordered, without hesitating, a coffee with milk.
The boy screamed, dropping his phone on the rug. Slady took off his glove, rubbed his eyes and apologized for the scare. The young man complained, saying he had almost had a heart attack, but, faced with his silence, ended up apologizing too, through clenched teeth. Slady accepted and returned to his order for the coffee with milk, tapping the menu with his nail, requesting, specifically, a heart design in the foam.
The boy laughed for a moment and turned to prepare the drink.
There were no more words between them, only the sound of work, the rain hitting the roof and Slady's empty gaze fixed on the floor.
When the cup landed on the counter, the boy, with a smug smile, asked if it looked good like that. He held the cup with both hands, looked at the design, drank it all at once, thanked him and stood up to leave, telling the young man to pay closer attention to who came in there.
The boy stood frozen, eyes wide.
No matter how hot or cold the water was, the images wouldn't leave Rin Yuang's mind. Her nights were haunted by the sight of that man, and also of that stranger she had glimpsed for only a few seconds.
On another night, she rested in the tub, eyes closed, letting out a tired sigh as steam rose to the ceiling. She sat up slowly, her body drawn in, and stood with trembling arms, drying her hair and body before wrapping herself in a towel.
She lay down on the bed, looking at the still fan on the ceiling, closing her eyelids until darkness took over her mind. In those hours, at least, her heart no longer raced.
In the library, Shaphira woke up, stretched on the bed, yawned and went to the bathroom, where she screamed so loudly that Slady, in the kitchen, dropped an egg yolk into the pan.
He ran to the room and found her hidden under the covers, only one leg sticking out, completely without fur. He sat down slowly on the bed, rested his chin on his hands and guessed her body was adapting into something closer to human, keeping only the tail and the ears, admitting he found it impressive.
She shifted under the blanket and finally showed her face, ears swaying, thanking him for the explanation, but asking for privacy in that moment, saying she wanted to get to know her true appearance better. He nodded and stepped out.
Minutes later, food was already on the table when Shaphira came down the stairs wearing the new dress, holding the edges of the skirt with her fingers, eyes shining. She stopped in front of him, striking a pose, waiting for his opinion. He only confirmed, his voice indifferent, that she looked pretty, going back to his meal. She huffed and sat beside him, bringing the spoon to her mouth.
In the bedroom, Slady threw himself onto the bed, letting his body sink into the mattress. He felt something warm wrap around his waist, and, turning his face, found Shaphira with her face pressed against his neck. He touched her face, watching her rub her nose against his palm.
Memories of what he had done invaded his mind, bringing a sense of dislocation, thinking about how, that same night, he had carried out a massacre without reacting with any mercy, and now stroked that creature curling up against him without questioning anything.
The money mattered, but, in that moment, it felt like something neutral to him.
Those deaths, those men, all those memories of sinking into the blood of people condemned by his own sense of justice, no longer felt like victims or acts of vengeance for innocents, but something closer to clearing pests out of a house, without malice, just a necessary job to keep his world clean, a limited world, but one that, with that figure lying beside him, felt more valuable to him now.
His arms returned the embrace. He held her head, pressing it against his chest, letting out low sounds through his mouth, like someone trying to lull a child to sleep. He couldn't explain why he acted that way, his heart still beating evenly.
But he felt it needed to be done.
To hold her.
And let nothing hurt her.