Chapter 8: The Weight of a Name
Ren looked at the dark, swirling liquid in the vials, his heart heavy. "Is there really no way to dull the pain, Liraver? She's already suffered so much. I don't want her to scream."
Liraver stopped cleaning a beaker and looked at Ren over his spectacles. His voice was soft but firm. "I understand, boy. She's your sister. But you must understand—this treatment is a poison itself. It is a war inside her veins. The purification needs the body to be 'awake' to fight the infection. If you dull her senses, the Feral blood will win. You have to choose: a night of agony, or a lifetime as a statue."
Ren looked down, his fists clenching until his knuckles turned white.
Go placed a heavy hand on Ren's shoulder. "Don't look at the ground, Ren. Life isn't a fairy tale. It's a series of hard choices. Every second that passes is going to be harder than the last. That's just how this world works. You either step up, or you get crushed."
They stepped out of the shop and back into the cool, misty air of the city. After walking for a few blocks through the bustling 2000s-style streets—filled with neon signs and the hum of early-model cars—Go stopped in front of a grand restaurant. It had large glass windows and waiters in crisp white shirts moving between tables.
"This is the place," Go said. "Follow me."
Inside, the smell of roasted meat and expensive wine was overwhelming. Go walked straight to the back office, where a man with a thick mustache was counting silver coins.
"Hey, Boss! How's the business?" Go greeted him like an old friend.
The owner looked up and grinned. "Go! What brings an Elite like you to my humble kitchen?"
"My friend Ren here needs a job," Go said, gesturing to Ren. "He's a hard worker."
The owner eyed Ren's tired face. "I have an opening for a waiter. But the pay is standard—32 Golden Coins a month."
"Make it 50," Go said, his voice dropping an octave. It wasn't a request; it was a demand.
The owner blinked, startled. "50? That's more than my head chef makes! Is he that good?"
"He's my friend," Go replied simply.
The owner sighed, nodding. "Fine, 50 Golden Coins it is. But if he breaks a plate, it's coming out of his pay."
As they walked back out, Ren was speechless. 50 Golden Coins was a fortune compared to what he earned in Tier 4. "Go... I don't know how to thank you. You're changing my life."
"Don't thank me yet. You still have to save your sister," Go said. Suddenly, his eyes darted to a man across the street reading a newspaper. Go's posture shifted, becoming tense and predatory.
He reached into his pocket and handed Ren 50 Silver Coins. "Take a carriage home. Eat something. Get the treatment started. I... I have something I need to take care of."
"What is it? Can I help?" Ren asked, concerned.
"No. Just go. Now!" Go said, his voice sharp.
Ren didn't argue. He watched as Go turned and vanished into a dark alleyway.
Inside the alley, Go moved with a speed that didn't match his friendly persona. He lunged at a man in a black suit who had been following them, slamming him against the brick wall and gripping his throat.
"Who told you to follow me?" Go hissed.
The man gasped, struggling for air. He slowly reached up and removed his black fedora, revealing a scarred face. "Young Master... Mr. Enoki... please. Your father... he only wants to ensure your safety. He told me to keep an eye on you."
Go's grip tightened, his eyes glowing with a cold, terrifying light. "Don't ever call me by that name in public. To the world, I am Go. And tell my father that I don't need his 'safety' or his spies. Stay away from me, or the next time we meet, you won't be walking away."
He threw the man aside like a piece of trash and walked back into the light, his expression returning to a calm, practiced mask.