Location: Fenwick District — The Vice — Courtyard — Late Afternoon
Kevin and his friends retreated.
Their laughter faded into the music, swallowed by the beat that had shifted again—slower now, more intimate, the kind of rhythm that made people want to press close and close their eyes. The silver-haired influencer had moved to the other side of the courtyard, his phone still raised, his audience still watching.
Elijah watched them go.
They think they're safe, he thought. They think the humiliation was enough. That the kid will slink back to wherever he came from and never show his face again.
But the kid is still here.
And the kid is angry.
The music changed.
A new song—slower, sweeter, the kind of melody that made couples press closer and forget where they were.
"I've been trying to find my way through the dark," someone sang.
"I've been trying to find the light that's in your heart."
The lyrics were familiar, but wrong. Changed. Adapted.
"You're the only one who sees me when I'm falling apart."
"You're the only one who holds me when the night gets hard."
The crowd moved.
Bodies pressed together—not in the frantic, grinding movements of earlier, but in something softer. Something that looked like it belonged in a bedroom, not a courtyard. Boys held girls' waists. Girls rested their heads on boys' shoulders. Their eyes were closed. Their mouths were open.
Degeneracy, Elijah thought. But the peaceful kind.
The kind that comes after the drugs have settled and the only thing left is the warmth of another body.
He took a sip from his cup.
The liquid was warm now. Flat. He didn't mind.
---
Ramon walked toward him.
His steps were stiff, mechanical, the steps of a man who had forgotten how his legs worked. His face was pale. His eyes were red. His hands were still trembling.
He stopped in front of Elijah.
"Give me the gun."
His voice was quiet.
Not soft. Quiet.
Elijah's eyebrow rose.
"What's the magic word?"
"Give me the damn gun."
Elijah's expression didn't change.
But his hand moved.
The pistol—compact, black, still warm from being pressed against Mateo's jacket—slid from his back pocket. He held it out.
Ramon snatched it.
His fingers closed around the grip. His thumb found the safety. His knuckles went white.
He tucked it into the waistband of his jeans and pulled his shirt over it.
"Good boy," Elijah said.
His voice was still soft. Still high. Still sweet.
"Did you enjoy yourself?"
Ramon's jaw tightened.
Wonko's voice pressed against Elijah's skull.
"You are a complete scumbag."
"Thank you."
"It wasn't a compliment."
"I know."
Elijah placed a hand on Ramon's shoulder.
"I had a good time. I hope you did too."
He squeezed.
"I haven't felt this alive since I showed up. It's been so fun."
Ramon's eyes burned.
But he didn't speak.
He turned.
His eyes found Kevin's friends—the tall one, the stocky one—walking toward the back of the courtyard, toward the bathrooms.
He followed.
---
Elijah watched him go.
Well, he thought. It appears I'm just here to pass the time.
In that case—
He turned.
The two women were still there.
The one in red. The one in braids.
They were standing near the grill, their bodies swaying to the music, their eyes fixed on him.
The one in red raised her hand.
Her fingers curled—slow, deliberate, the gesture of someone who had done this before.
Come here, the gesture said.
We want you.
Elijah's expression shifted.
Excitement.
Not the excitement of a man who had been starved for attention. The excitement of a hunter who had found his prey.
He began to walk toward them.
---
Mateo watched from the van.
His mouth was open. His tongue was hanging out. His eyes were wide.
"That guy," he said.
His voice was barely a whisper.
"That guy is even more of a pervert than me."
Lucia didn't respond.
Her eyes were fixed on the courtyard.
On Elijah.
On the way he walked, the way he moved, the way the women leaned toward him like flowers turning toward the sun.
"What is it about him?" Mateo muttered. "What kind of magnetic charm does he have? He's a stranger. They've never met him before. And yet—"
He shook his head.
"It's like he's wearing cologne. But not cologne. Something else."
Lucia's jaw tightened.
She opened the door.
She stepped out of the van.
"Where are you going?" Mateo asked.
She didn't answer.
She walked toward the courtyard.
---
The music was ending.
The song was winding down, its melody fading into a soft hum, the kind of hum that made people want to slow down and savor the last few moments before silence.
Lucia reached the grill.
The two women were still standing there.
The one in red. The one in braids.
"You," Lucia said.
Her voice was cold.
"Leave."
The woman in red's eyebrow rose.
"Excuse me?"
"I said leave."
"We were here first."
"I don't care."
Lucia's hand shot out.
Her fingers wrapped around the woman in red's wrist.
Not hard. Just... firm.
The woman's eyes widened.
"You're hurting me."
"Then leave."
Lucia released her.
The woman in red stumbled back. Her friend caught her arm. They exchanged glances—confused, frightened, uncertain.
Then they turned and walked away.
---
Elijah's voice was soft.
"Why did you do that?"
Lucia didn't answer.
Her internal thoughts churned.
Why did I do that?
I don't even know.
There's something about him. Something that pulls at me. Something that makes me want to be near him, even when I know I shouldn't.
It's like... like an instinct. An impulse. The kind of thing that doesn't make sense but feels right anyway.
And when I saw him with those women—when I saw the way they looked at him—
I couldn't stand it.
Her eyes met his.
"I don't know," she said.
"You don't know?"
"I don't know."
Elijah stepped closer.
His hand found her waist.
Gentle. Not demanding.
"Are you alright?"
His voice was soft. High. Sweet.
Lucia's breath caught.
That feeling again, she thought. Cascading through me. Like water over a cliff.
I can't—
His lips found hers.
The world stopped.
---
The kiss was not aggressive.
It was exploratory. The kind of kiss that happens when two people are trying to figure out whether they want more.
Elijah's eyes were half-closed.
But through his perception, he saw something else.
Kokoro.
It rose from Lucia like steam from a hot spring. Not the infatuation of the women in the bar. Not the rage of the humiliated boy. Something softer. Something that looked like peach blossoms drifting on a slow river.
S3, he thought. The vibrational frequency spectrum of craving.
It's not just lust. It's not just desire.
It's the need to be close. The need to be seen. The need to be wanted.
And it's all energy.
Shinsei pulled it toward him.
The sacred breath.
It entered him through his lips, through his chest, through the places where their bodies touched.
His muscles loosened.
His spine straightened.
Tenryu pulsed.
This is what I needed, he thought. This is what I came for.
He pulled back.
Lucia's eyes were still closed.
Her lips were still parted.
"What... what was that?" she whispered.
"A kiss," Elijah said.
"No. It was more than that."
"Was it?"
She opened her eyes.
"Yes."
Elijah smiled.
Not a nice smile.
The smile of a man who had gotten exactly what he wanted.
---
Mateo watched from the van.
His mouth was still open. His tongue was still hanging out. His eyes were still wide.
"No," he whispered.
"No, no, no—"
His hands gripped the steering wheel.
His knuckles went white.
"That bastard," he said.
"That absolute—"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
His face was red.
His jaw was tight.
His eyes were burning.
"That should have been me."
---