The city lay shrouded in the darkness of night. The rain fell incessantly, drenching the glass of the narrow attic window, creating a facsimile of tears that seemed never-ending. Below the faint glow of the gas lamp, two shadows intertwined on the old, decrepit bed. There was no softness in their movements—only hunger and sorrow, as if they sought to drown each other's pain, a wound that no hand could ever heal.

  Aveline—now growing into a young woman, on the brink of adulthood—embraced Fitran. With her slender frame and nearly translucent skin, her eyes burned with fierce determination. “Fitran…” she whispered, her voice nearly lost amidst the roar of the rain. She pressed her lips against Fitran's chest, holding her breath as it turned heavy, as if that entire spectrum of pain could vanish with a mere touch. “You know we can’t go back, right?”

  “Don’t talk about that tonight,” Aveline replied, her glistening eyes shining in the dim light. “I don’t want to think. I don’t want to hear your questions. Just let it be.” Her tone was steeped in desperation, ensnared by the fear of the truth they must face together.

  Fitran did not refuse; he merely pulled Aveline closer, gently stroking her back, marked with scars—wounds inflicted by the world since childhood, traces left by a soul trade that ensnared them in the web of injustice. “We can fight against everything, Aveline. We can find another way,” he said, though his voice was laced with deep doubt.

  “Are you sure they will let us?” Aveline looked at him, tears threatening to spill from the corners of her bright eyes. “They have turned us into mere commodities, nothing more,” her voice trembled, resonating softly in the quiet of the night filled with the sound of falling rain.

  They moved together, wordlessly, only embracing each other, seeking warmth amid the lingering sadness. The loneliness bit deeply, and in the midst of the encroaching darkness, there was no love left—only the bitter acknowledgment that the body sometimes became the only true place to return to.

  After that, silence enveloped them once more. Aveline pulled the tattered blanket over herself, allowing herself to gasp as her mind wandered. She stared at the cracked wooden ceiling, as if searching for answers that might be hidden there. “If we could escape…” she began, but her words faltered, trapped by a reality that bit to the bone.

  Fitran fell silent, gazing at Aveline's face, lost in shadows. “I’ve always warned you... don’t hope too much from me,” he murmured softly, his voice hoarse, radiating a yearning to save them both from the darkness that awaited.

  “And I’ve truly strived not to hope,” Aveline replied, her fingers gripping the cold blanket, as if clutching at the remnants of a hope that was slowly fading. “Yet in this world, without hope, we are nothing but trapped in an suffocating darkness.”

  Aveline continued in a hushed tone, her voice trembling, filling the stillness of the night, "I never dared to hope, Brother. In this cruel world, true hope is poison." Her eyes, once bright, now appeared gray, drowning in the tremors of thoughts that haunted her relentlessly.

  Fitran gently brushed Aveline's sweat-soaked hair, feeling the chill that crept between them. "Do you still feel unwell? Your breath is labored." As he observed her more closely, the dark shadows beneath her eyes became painfully evident—real signs of exhaustion, of a struggle that showed no end. "Your face grows paler each night…”

  Aveline laughed bitterly, her voice cracking like shards of glass. "Of all the men who have lingered in this bed, you are the only one who cares to ask such things. The others come merely to satiate their desires.” She closed her eyes for a moment, recalling the nights steeped in silence, where each heartbeat felt like a scream suffocating in the dark.

  Fitran furrowed his brow, a shard of anger seeping into his voice. "Aveline, truly, do not jest with me. I speak with utmost seriousness." With firm strides, he approached, demanding her full attention, attempting to breach the fortress she had erected around her heart.

  Aveline gazed far out the window, feeling the droplets of rain fall slowly, shattering the silence that enveloped the room. To her, the rain descending from the heavens seemed like tainted hope, a fragile memory. "Brother... do you know why I have been forced to live on the streets? Because I feel as though I have been dead for a long time. My body—my lungs—have been damaged since my childhood." Hesitantly, she drew a breath, each intake feeling like an endless torment. "I have always been weak. The doctor said I need an organ transplant, but who would be willing to become a donor for a pitiful child like me?"

  Fitran fell silent, feeling the deep anguish contained within each of Aveline's words. The pain and despair sliced through his heart, leaving him suspended in a haunting silence. In his mind, he recognized that behind all the wonders of magic, there lurked cruel rules—organ trading priced with human lives, every existence bought with but a handful of skull dust.

  Aveline continued, her voice faltering, tears spilling from her eyes without restraint. "They say only noble organs are worthy. They insist that the bodies of commoners lack the magic needed to mingle." She paused, feeling the bitterness of reality seep into her veins. "Only blue-blooded organs can... restore my body. But you know, Brother, what the cost is? One noble heart can redeem two districts, whereas a single kidney can replace fifty lives in the slave market." Her voice trembled, illustrating the cruel hierarchy that governed life and death.

  Fitran exhaled heavily, the weight of pressure squeezing his chest. "So all this time... you lived in fear? Why didn't you speak up sooner?" One of the worst feelings for him was the helplessness, being unable to grasp her suffering until it was too late. He gazed at Aveline in her wretched state, crushed by a relentless, merciless system, stirring an anger within him that was hard to contain.

  Aveline shrugged, appearing uncertain of her response. "You always remind me, Brother. This world is indifferent to the weak. I... I have fought hard enough until now, but lately, this pain has been suffocating me more and more." She bit her lip, her voice hoarse, reflecting the weight of all her burdens. "Every night, I wake up cold, as if my body has frozen. My life feels like a punishment with no end."

  Fitran lowered his gaze, a surge of unbridled anger filling his throat. "I have taken the lives of many souls, Aveline. Every drop of blood spilled... all of it to confront this world full of cruelty. Yet, even slaughtering an entire city cannot buy you a new heart," he said, his tone laced with deep regret, struggling to hold back the extinguished hopes.

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  Aveline fought back the clear dew in her eyes, looking at him with a piercing gaze as though hoping to penetrate the walls of his heart. "I do not seek your pity, Brother," she asserted firmly, although the tremor in her voice was nearly unbearable. "What I desire is... one night that is not cold, where I can feel normality,” she continued softly, as if hinting at the crushing loneliness that suffocated her soul.

  Fitran took Aveline's hand gently, kissing her fingers that felt as cold as ice. "If only I could, I would bring you a thousand hearts," he said with a bitter smile, reflecting his helplessness. "I would rob every noble living in luxury within this city, those who arrogantly ignore us trapped in the shadows of darkness."

  Aveline shook her head, her smile faint yet striving to display a glimmer of hope. "You speak like a child, Sir. This world... even the gods have grown weary of watching us. They have exploited our souls as payment in their wicked game."

  An unsettling silence enveloped them for a moment, the air heavy with profound sorrow. The rain outside poured relentlessly, creating a backdrop of sound that conveyed their grief and emptiness.

  Fitran shattered the silence, his voice heavy as stone, "Last night, I was summoned to the lair of the mafia. They trade in the organs of the noble class, Aveline. Hearts, kidneys, eyes—everything can be bought, but not with mere coin. They want to make me their enforcer, their spy, even their killer... their dog." Fitran's voice trembled, unable to mask the suffocating choices he faced.

  Aveline turned, her eyes aflame with the remaining fervor of her spirit. "Are you truly going to do that? Betray yourself for them?" she asked, her voice firm, probing the courage and morality of Fitran, which seemed to waver amidst his turmoil.

  Fitran hesitated, the inner struggle vividly reflected on his face. "I’m not sure," he replied quietly. "If that’s the price for your life, perhaps I would do it, but I loathe being a tool for anyone. I do not wish to be ensnared in this darkness." He averted his gaze from Aveline, as if terrified of the decision he was about to make.

  Aveline grasped Fitran's arm, her tension palpable. Her fingers sought to clutch the uncertainty that clung to their hearts. "Brother, you know all too well what this blood debt means, don’t you? I do not want to live in the shadows of murder. If that is the path you choose for my sake, I would rather die," her voice quivered, yet it brimmed with resolve. "I cannot be the reason you lose the remnants of your humanity, even if it’s only a fragment."

  Fitran gazed at her, his eyes deep as if absorbing every word that slipped from Aveline's lips. "Humanity? Aveline, we have long been forsaken by it. Since this world cast us into its shadowy streets, our moral boundaries have crumbled," he replied, his voice thick with profound despair. "Look at the state of our surroundings. Who still cares for humanity? Here, in this city, we are but tools. Tools wielded for the benefit of those who hold power and claim wisdom."

  Aveline closed her eyes, taking a short, heavy breath. "Will you also leave tonight?" she asked, feeling the chill of the night wrapping around them, the weight on her chest growing increasingly burdensome.

  Fitran shook his head slowly, his face revealing a depth of resolve. "No. I shall remain here. Until the dawn breaks, until you fall into your slumber, and until this world ceases to await us with its endless judgment." There was a firmness in his voice, as if he were making a vow, both to himself and to the woman before him.

  Aveline looked at him, appearing weary yet at peace. "One request, brother. Do not leave before I do. If you depart first, I cannot be sure of continuing this path alone." Her voice harbored a hidden despair, reflecting just how fragile their hopes were amidst this darkness.

  Fitran gently brushed Aveline's cheek, feeling the tears that nearly spilled from the corner of her eye. "You are the strongest, Aveline. Your strength is far greater than anyone in this city. Those who see you will never understand the heroic courage you possess." His voice brimmed with conviction, even though fear trembled in his heart at the thought of what lay ahead.

  Aveline smiled, though her smile seemed fragile. "Nonsense. I am no hero. I am merely someone stubborn, afraid to confront the darkness lurking at the end of the road." Her voice was soft, yet behind it lay a hidden bravery.

  Her thoughts drifted back to the sordid transactions in the shadowy market, where souls and bodies were traded as if they were mere trinkets. This world had turned humanity into a commodity, and amid the suffering that loomed, they remained resolute. "I wish we could stop all of this. But how can we if we remain ensnared in this game?"

  Fitran bowed his head, tightening his embrace as if trying to shield Aveline from the cruelty of the world around them. "I swear, no matter what happens, I'll do everything in my power to protect you. If it means selling my soul to the damned mafia, then so be it. But one thing is certain: you will have a second chance; a thousand hopes to step beyond this darkness." There was resolve within him, a struggle against the greed and savagery that spat upon their city.

  Aveline did not respond; she merely closed her eyes, allowing the sensation of trembling within his embrace to seep in. Her breaths grew slower, as if waiting for the dawn that could free them—or for the miracle that might arrive. In the looming darkness, that small hope continued to shine, piercing through the uncertainty of the profound night.

  Outside, the city continued to thrum with life. The sound of rain fell rhythmically upon the rusted rooftops, as though attempting to cover the bloodstains that marred the cold streets. Two figures stood in the shadows, ensnared in a burdened conversation. "Are you certain this will end well?" Aveline's voice broke, filled with deep-seated doubt.

  "There's no perfect ending, Aveline. There are only the choices we make," Fitran replied, rubbing his arm, feeling the cold creep into his bones. "We must keep moving forward. Every drop of blood we shed only diminishes our chance to survive." He cast a bleak gaze toward the city, scorched by the relentless rain.

  "But for what? Are we to become simply another name lost to time?" Aveline sighed, her heart heavy with despair. "Our humanity has long been stripped away, replaced by sorcery and the trade of organs as if they were mere scraps."

  Fitran locked eyes with Aveline, a flicker of warmth dimly illuminating his gaze. "Our humanity, Aveline, is carved in our courage to resist. Every day we endure here is a battle cry against tyranny—the magic that robs our lives of meaning," he declared, his voice firm, yet shadowed by uncertainty.

  The rain fell harder, the occasional flash of lightning illuminating their faces, yet the anxiety knotting their chests felt heavier than the cascading water. "Is there still a glimmer of hope for us to mend all of this?" Aveline asked, her voice trembling, nearly drowned out by the downpour.

  "There is something left," Fitran replied, emphasizing the word 'left' as if hoping that those words could lift the weight between them. "The promise we made to one another. If we do not give up, perhaps, just perhaps, we can change the face of this world slightly before it sinks entirely into darkness." His voice trembled, filled with an amalgamation of hope and fear.

  In a world caught between magic and the trade of souls, where precious lives are bartered and shards of dark power reign supreme, they appeared as the last two souls striving to remind the world of its courage. The wounds they bore may be eternal, but beneath the scarred skin, a flicker of hope burned bright. Each night, they battled against the shadows of their past, the ever-looming threat that haunted them. The only thing left for them was the courage to endure, one more night, while tightly holding the promise that was etched within their hearts.