The train rattled above the rooftops, gliding along rails that cut through the Inner Rim like veins in an aging machine.

  Outside, the skyline was swallowed by smoke and banners.

  Founding Day. Maybe that's why there were so many people gathered on the streets.

  Lets just hope I can get to the Noble District without getting caught in it.

  I caught a glimpse of it from the window - a mechanical titan walking through the main square, its silhouette massive behind the copper spires, steam trailing like ghosts behind it.

  It was a welcome distraction, especially now that my mind had finally started to regain some composure after the morning's fiasco.

  At least I'm not hearing voices anymore.

  In the seat beside me, two kids stood on tiptoes, struggling to see past the shoulder of a man too focused on his pocket watch to care.

  One of them huffed. “Missed it…”

  I sighed.

  Then stood up.

  “Here,” I said. “Don’t fall.”

  The kids stared up at me, wide-eyed. Then stepped onto the seat like it was a throne.

  “Whoa,” one breathed. “It’s real.”

  The titan passed between buildings, half-shrouded in fog, its limbs moving slow and deliberate - like it remembered war, and was wondering when it would see it again.

  I leaned against the window.

  “Don’t touch the glass,” I added. “It’s cracked.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Sir. Cute.

  The titan vanished behind a clocktower, probably joining the military parade planned for Founding day.

  The kids jumped down, grinning like they'd seen a god.

  “Thank you!”

  I nodded once, pulling my flat cap back down over my eyes.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  The sound of steam hissing from funnel vents echoed down the platform as a massive, black-metal locomotive screeched into a gradual halt. The Illustrious Lady, her name etched in bronze above the cowcatcher, exhaled smoke from her nostrils like some mechanical beast - tired, but proud.

  Sitting back down on my vacant seat, I stared out the soot-smudged window, barely able to see through the packed bodies leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the city skyline.

  But I certainly saw enough.

  Morren City.

  Smokestacks. Copper spires. Cathedrals with gargoyle-etched buttresses. Clock towers ticking in sync. The train rode high above the wooden buildings on rails suspended over the Inner Rim, giving me a clear view of the crooked rooftops, the flickering gaslights, the spiderwebs of bridges between towers and spiraling spires.

  A mix of divine grandeur and rotting elegance.

  The train jolted. The locking clamps hissed open. This was the final stop before the Nobility District.

  Half the passengers rushed to leave. Most of them were dressed to impress - men in slick suits and fine leather jackets, polished canes tapping on the metal floor. Women in floor-length dresses glided past them, perfume thick in the air, their lips stained and expressions harder than polished marble.

  They stepped off like they owned the damn city. And judging by how they looked at the rest of us, they probably thought they did.

  Suppressing a yawn, I finally stepped off the train. My shoes touched the polished metal platform, still warm from the sun. I stretched my arms above my head and rolled my shoulders.

  I glanced back at the 'Illustrious Lady.' Up close, she was massive - at least six grown men tall, pipes and pressure valves lining her flanks. The smokestack still coughed grey clouds into the overcast sky.

  Everything in this world feels oversized. Or maybe I'm just too small.

  Descending the steel staircase to the street level, I found myself in the wealthiest section of the Inner Rim, closest to the wall that partitioned us.

  A fountain centred in a square surrounded by stone roads. Shop signs polished to reflect the sun. Carriages rolled by, some pulled by actually healthy looking horses. Street performers played violins beneath copper archways. Children in stiff collars whispered about Inquisitors.

  I glanced toward the Nobility District.

  Beyond the crowd and the fountain, towering stone walls jutted up like fortresses from a forgotten war. Scars remained on them from past conflicts. Even now, they looked impassable.

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  Maybe that's the point.

  The Nobility didn't want a wall to protect them from the world. They wanted one to separate themselves from it.

  I couldn't help but sneer.

  Let them live a day in the Outer Rim and see how well their perfume holds up.

  I was about to keep walking when I noticed a boy at the fountain.

  No older than ten. His clothes were torn rags, and he was elbow-deep in the water, fishing for coins.

  The fountain was crowned by a statue of a woman holding a vase, water spilling from its mouth. Probably some martyr from the Church - the pious tossed coins in, praying for blessings.

  The boy probably snuck into the Inner District just to get here.

  I should’ve walked past.

  I was going to.

  But then a woman and her son came into view. Both dressed wealthy, lace and silver trim, the kid in polished boots that probably cost more than my whole apartment. Around their necks, a silver necklace with a small white mask attached dangling down.

  The symbol of the church.

  Here comes the religious fanatics.

  The boy at the fountain froze when he saw them.

  The woman’s face curled in disgust at the sight of the boy. “Filth,” she spat, her voice sharp enough to cut. “Get your dirty hands off her likeness! How dare you sneak in here?”

  The poor boy shrank back, stammering wordless apologies.

  The noblewoman’s son tilted his head, staring at him with wide-eyed curiosity - like the beggar was some sort of insect in a jar.

  Great.

  I sighed.

  Guess I can’t just walk away now.

  I walked over, slipping on the brightest smile I could muster - a mask stretched tight across my face.

  “There you are,” I exclaimed cheerfully, stepping in front of the poor boy. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  The boy blinked up at me in confusion, too stunned to speak.

  The woman’s glare snapped to me instead. Her lip curled.

  “That child should be lashed for his blasphemy,” she hissed.

  I bowed slightly, still smiling wide.

  “I’m so sorry, milady. It’s our first time in the Inner District. I’ll make sure he’s punished severely when we get home.”

  The woman studied me, clearly unimpressed. Then she huffed, muttering to herself as she turned away. Her son tugged on her sleeve, whispering far too loudly while pointing at me.

  “His eyes look scary.”

  My smile twitched, barely holding.

  Thanks, kid. Not cute at all.

  The shadows behind the noblewoman stirred faintly, curling like smoke along the fountain’s base. Agitated. Waiting.

  I forced them back down, keeping my mask of politeness fixed in place.

  The woman marched off, dragging her son behind her.

  Finally.

  The poor boy stared up at me, bewildered.

  I let the smile fall, my face settling back into its usual blank calm.

  “That wasn’t free,” I said flatly.

  The boy flinched.

  But I just pinched my fingers together, offering a small smile. “Relax. I just need directions to the Noble Districts gate. You help me, you get paid. Deal?”

  His eyes lit up.

  “Deal!”

  I tucked the smile away again, but my voice softened. Kids didn’t need the same masks, which made me somewhat grateful.

  As we walked, I asked, “How’d you even get inside?”

  He shook his head. “Can’t say. My sister told me not to.”

  I raised a brow. “Trying to get coins for you and your sister, huh?”

  He nodded shyly. “She’s sick. We got nowhere to live.”

  I didn’t say anything to that. Just changed the subject.

  “Don’t worry about that lady from before. High-class people always find a way to be mean.”

  “She was mean,” the boy muttered. “Why didn’t you tell her off?”

  I chuckled. “And what do you think would’ve happened if I had?”

  He frowned. “I don’t know.”

  “We’d both be in bigger trouble. I saved you from being lashed.”

  He kicked a loose pebble. “…It isn’t fair.”

  “No,” I admitted. “It never is. But you make do with what you have. This world won’t change overnight.”

  He thought about that, then asked innocently, “Would you change it if you could?”

  I glanced at him, caught off guard. His face was still round, still childish - but I didn’t expect some words from a kid.

  “…Yeah, I guess I would.” I replied.

  “It’d be nice if you could. Then I could sleep in a bed every day. Maybe even eat bread!”

  For a second, I just stared at him. Then, despite myself, I smiled - genuinely, this time.

  “You’re a smart kid. I’ll think about it.”

  By then, we’d reached the walls. Fifty meters of stone, scarred with battles long past. The gate loomed ahead, guarded by soldiers with bolt-action rifles slung over their shoulders.

  I pulled a silver note from my pocket. One side had the symbol of a white mask with only two eye holes - the symbol of the church. The other side had an imperial bird with its wings unfurled, its left half died in black, its other half white.

  I stopped admiring the note and handed it to him. “That should be enough for a room in the Outer District for a couple nights. But don’t try that fountain again unless you want to get whipped for real.”

  His jaw dropped. “Are you a noble?”

  “Not really. Just someone who works with them.”

  He frowned. “…Then why not give me more?”

  I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Because I gave you just enough not to get robbed by the other gutter rats.”

  He looked down, realizing I was right.

  I sighed, pulling a pen from my breast pocket. “Hand.”

  He hesitated, then held it out.

  I scribbled something on his palm.

  “You probably can’t read. So just go to the Saint Matrice Church in the East. Show this to the nuns. They’ll take you in.”

  His eyes widened. “But… they’re full.”

  “Not for you. Give them that note. Tell them Damian sends his regards.”

  The boy beamed, clutching the note tight. “Thank you!”

  He ran off, vanishing into the crowd.

  I stood there for a moment, watching him disappear.

  A little selfish of me - only caring once it got bad. But at least I did something.

  I turned back to the walls, their scars blackened with age.

  My expression changed back to its usual listlessness. No trace of a smile to be seen.

  It was time.

  “Back to the stage.”