Just like every day, Toma was working hard at the stall from morning until the evening, staying until the market closed. The chatter of merchants, clinking of coins, and the smell of spices and sweat filled the air. After completing his shift, he met up with Kaia, who was back in town because her Navy Academy would begin next month.
That evening, however, a storm rolled in.
Dark clouds swirled overhead, and the wind grew sharper. The streets had emptied, the market long closed, and Toma was running late returning to the orphanage.
He muttered to himself as he pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders,
"It's already night… and these stormy clouds are hiding the moon's light."
He gave a tired shrug and continued on his way.
But as he stepped into the shadowed path that led through the woods, a chill crept through him—colder than the wind, deeper than the rain. A sensation pricked at the back of his neck.
He wasn't alone.
He turned around.
Three figures stood behind him, partially hidden by the storm and their cloaks, their faces lost beneath deep hoods.
One of them stepped forward and said with a low voice,
"That orphan boy. It's you, right?"
Before Toma could respond, the other two pulled weapons from under their cloaks—one held a rusted knife, the other a small axe, glinting even in the low light.
Without hesitation, Toma turned and bolted.
The night exploded into motion. Mud splashed under his feet as he ran, heart hammering. Branches whipped past. A bolt of lightning tore the sky—and in that flash of white light, he saw one of the cloaked men draw a curved blade from his belt.
He didn't scream.
He just ran.
The orphanage wasn't far. If he could just make it—
He broke through the trees and into the open clearing in front of the orphanage.
"Ms. Saint!" he shouted with everything he had left.
The front door creaked open. Ms. Saint stepped out hurriedly, shielding her eyes from the rain with one hand.
"Toma! What in the world—"
Before she could finish, the three cloaked men emerged from the woods behind Toma.
Toma slipped in the mud and fell hard, just a few steps from the porch. Ms. Saint rushed forward.
Seeing an opportunity, one of the bandits raised his blade over the fallen boy.
But before the blade could fall—Ms. Saint stepped in front of him.
Steel met flesh.
The blade sliced cleanly through her side.
Toma watched in horror as she staggered, then crumpled to the ground beside him, blood spilling into the rain-soaked earth.
The bandits froze. One of them hissed in panic,
"This wasn't part of it—she wasn't the target!"
Without another word, they vanished into the storm, swallowed by the forest. As if they were never there.
Toma was left kneeling in the mud, holding Ms. Saint, her blood soaking through his shirt, her breath growing weaker.
She looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Don't cry," she said, as her lips trembled. "Not for someone like me."
Toma couldn't speak. His throat closed up. He wanted to say so many things, but no words came.
She reached up with a trembling hand—her skin now cold—and gently touched his cheek.
"Now you can live your life... the one that belongs to you. Chase your dreams, make real friends, build a family—a real one… not like ours."
Her fingers rested against his face, soft and shaking.
"You're more important to me than you know."
Toma leaned down, resting his forehead against hers, eyes full of pain and confusion.
"I don't understand…"
She gave a faint smile.
"You will."
And then… she was gone.
The rain continued falling, but the world suddenly felt unbearably quiet. No thunder, no shouting, no wind—just stillness. Only Toma remained, cradling the only parent figure he ever knew.
"I don't even know if I'm the real Toma… but why am I getting this emotional?"
The next day, Toma didn't come to the market.
Nana noticed immediately. Her irritation started brewing by mid-morning, and by the time the sun was setting, she was fuming.
That evening, Kaia appeared at the stall. She walked up, clearly expecting to see someone else.
"Toma didn't come to work today?" she asked.
Hearing this only made Nana's mood worse.
Her voice rose with frustration. "That boy! Skipping work without telling me? The nerve!"
Kaia took a step back, startled by the sudden outburst.
She quickly folded her hands in silent prayer.
"Dear gods… please protect Toma… from Nana's wrath."
She looked out toward the road beyond the market, hoping to see him walking up any second—but he never came.
And somewhere else, in the stillness of a storm-washed night, a boy sat alone with a grief too heavy for words.