It was approximately 9:00 AM when Zuno finally woke from his sleep. Despite the stress of the previous day, his body felt surprisingly well-rested, almost refreshed. For a brief moment, everything felt… normal. The morning was calm, and sunlight streamed through his window, spilling across his face and torso. The warmth settled into his skin, soft and orange, carrying a quiet comfort that almost made him forget everything waiting ahead.
Almost.
A small grunt slipped from his mouth as he pushed himself upright. As he sat up, the sunlight shifted off him and onto his pillow, leaving his body exposed to the colder air of the room. Even on bright mornings like this, the chill crept in quickly once you stepped out of the light.
Zuno shivered faintly before swinging his legs off the bed and standing.
He made his way toward the desk, his steps slow but steady, and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was a mess, sticking out in uneven directions, and his skin had that faint oily sheen that came from a long, restless day prior.
'I look like shit.'
He exhaled through his nose, unimpressed, before turning his focus toward fixing it.
Without wasting time, he walked to his bedroom door, grabbing the handle and twisting it open. The hinges creaked softly as he stepped out into the main area of the house, closing the door behind him with a dull click. From there, he moved toward the bathroom and pushed that door open as well.
The smell hit him instantly.
Dried blood.
It lingered thick in the air, sharp and unpleasant, clinging to the walls like it had settled there overnight. His nose wrinkled immediately, his body recoiling before he even fully stepped inside.
Taking a shower in that smell? No chance.
Zuno turned on his heel and stepped back out, heading toward the kitchen instead. His eyes scanned briefly before landing on a used rag sitting near the sink. It wasn't clean, but it would do. He had more tucked away—losing one didn't matter.
He grabbed it with his left hand while his right turned the faucet. Water rushed out in a steady stream as he soaked the cloth, adding a bit of soap before wringing it just enough to keep it damp.
Then he headed back to the bathroom.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
Zuno crouched down and began wiping the dried blood from the floor, scrubbing with a bit more force than necessary. The stains didn't come out easily, leaving behind faint marks even after he finished, but it was better than before. He avoided the broken window entirely, choosing not to deal with it right now.
Good enough.
Once finished, he tossed the rag into a corner of the bathroom without a second thought.
After that, he undressed and stepped into the shower. His hand reached for the valve, turning it until the water ran slightly above warm. Steam began to rise as he stepped beneath the stream, letting it wash over him.
For a moment, he just stood there.
The warmth helped.
Eventually, he reached for the bar of soap on the counter and began cleaning himself, working slowly, methodically. As he moved, his eyes drifted over his body, noticing something odd.
There weren't many bruises.
At least… not as many as he expected.
'I guess they didn't hit me that hard.'
A small, quiet chuckle escaped him, though it didn't last long.
He still lost.
The thought lingered, dull and unwelcome. His expression flattened slightly as he rinsed off, letting the water carry the thought away with it.
After a few moments, he turned the water off and stepped out of the shower, droplets trailing down his skin. He crouched down and opened the cabinet beneath the sink.
Inside were neatly arranged towels, extra bars of soap, and the exposed piping beneath the basin. Everything had its place.
Zuno grabbed a towel from the top of the stack and dried himself off thoroughly before wrapping it around his waist. Once finished, he left the bathroom and made his way back to his bedroom, opening the door and stepping inside.
The room felt quieter than before.
He walked straight to his closet and pulled it open, grabbing a simple set of clothes—a pair of tannish-brown jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a matching work jacket to wear over it. Nothing special. Just practical.
After dressing, Zuno moved back toward his desk and opened the top drawer on the right side.
Inside was what little money he had left.
Ziann.
The currency of Pavee.
At the lowest level were paper Ziann—thin notes representing ones and fives. The ones were blue, the fives red, and they were the only form of paper currency still in use. Everything else had long since shifted to coin.
Above that were Copper Ziann, each one equal to ten blue notes or two red. Then came Silver Ziann, worth two Copper. After that, Golden Ziann—far more valuable—and finally, the rarest of them all: Obsidian Ziann, a form of currency most people only ever heard about.
Zuno had… almost nothing.
Two red notes. One copper coin. A few scattered blues.
He gathered everything without hesitation and stuffed it into his coat pocket before closing the drawer.
From there, he stepped out into the main room, his eyes scanning slowly.
Was there anything else worth taking?
Anything at all?
After a moment, his gaze shifted downward—toward the floorboards beneath his table.
He paused.
Then moved.
Zuno walked over, pushing the table slightly aside before crouching down. The wood beneath was worn, almost rotting, with one board clearly looser than the rest. It wasn't a clever hiding spot—but it was hidden enough.
He slid his fingers into the thin cracks, gripping the board as best he could before pulling upward.
FFRRIIPP.
The wood gave way easily, splitting apart as it came loose.
Zuno set it aside and leaned forward, peering into the space beneath.
A small hole had been carved beneath the floor. At its center sat a black box.
Even surrounded by dirt, it looked relatively clean—just slightly dusty.
He reached down and grabbed it, pulling it up into the light.
The box was matte black, its surface covered in strange markings. It had a rough texture, almost like tiny hardened bumps layered across it.
Zuno ran his fingers over it slowly before his thumb found the latch at the front.
He flipped it open.
Inside were three items.
A crimson chain necklace with a lapis-colored jewel.
A dark bracelet.
And a picture.
Zuno picked up the photo first. His eyes lingered on it, recognition coming slowly but surely.
A man.
A woman.
And a small child between them.
Him.
His parents.
This was all he had left of them.
A quiet, somber feeling settled over him as he carefully placed the picture back into the box.
Next, he picked up the bracelet.
It had belonged to his father. His mother had one just like it, though hers had faint velvet stripes woven into it. He never saw hers again.
Zuno slipped the bracelet onto his right wrist, adjusting it slightly.
Then, finally, he reached for the necklace.
He didn't recognize it.
His parents had never mentioned it—not once. Yet it looked far too well-made to be something ordinary. Expensive, even.
Zuno hesitated for only a moment before shrugging it off.
Didn't matter.
He lifted it and placed it around his neck, tucking the pendant beneath his shirt to keep it hidden.
After that, he stood, bringing the box with him and slipping it into his jacket pocket. It fit, but not perfectly—anyone paying attention would notice it.
Not that he cared much.
Still, he kept his hand in his pocket, covering it instinctively.
A slow breath left his mouth as his eyes drifted around the room.
He had lived here for years.
And now… he was leaving it behind.
Maybe for a long time.
Maybe for good.
His gaze lingered for a few seconds before shifting toward the door.
Then he moved.
Zuno walked over, grabbed the handle, and pulled it open.
A burst of light flooded in, forcing his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened them again, the world outside felt almost too bright.
It was around 10:45 AM now.
The day had fully begun.
Zuno glanced back once more at the interior of the house, his expression quiet, distant. Memories flickered through his mind—small, scattered pieces of a life that felt like it was already slipping away.
Then he stepped outside.
And left it behind.