Seeing Witt with tears streaming down his face, Kaelxi’s heart clenched for some reason.
She propped him against the wall, squatted before him, and cupped his face with both hands.
The young man’s features were twisted in pain, tears still flowing nonstop.
Kaelxi gently shook his head. “Wake up, Witt. Bad dream?”
She snapped out of it.
“What am I doing?”
“What do I care if this kid has nightmares?”
“But why’s he crying suddenly?”
“Is he awake?”
This chilling thought made Kaelxi stumble back, eyeing the sobbing youth warily.
“Witt?” she called softly. No answer.
Kaelxi lunged forward, lifted her bare foot, and kicked hard into his face—her plump toes jamming into his mouth.
Witt’s head slammed against the wall, his body slumping sideways.
Only then did Kaelxi confirm he wasn’t conscious.
Holding her foot, she grimaced at the wetness on her sole—Witt’s tears.
Since he couldn’t hear, Kaelxi mocked him freely. Time to gloat.
“How old are you? Still having nightmares? Do you wet the bed too?”
Remembering how he’d just scared her, anger flared.
This guy couldn’t even sleep peacefully!
She grabbed his face again, nearly mouth-to-mouth, and spat into his mouth several times. Still unsatisfied.
She muttered, “That’s for scaring me!”
Unnoticed, Witt’s expression shifted from pain to surprise.
Then to pain, panic—and other strange flickers.
Kaelxi tied her hair into a high ponytail to stay unobstructed.
She kicked his calves hard dozens of times, growing more energetic, even stomping his knees twice until he went limp.
She wondered if she’d gone too far.
“Whatever. He hit my stomach first!”
“Wait… was it me first?”
Feeling she wasn’t in the right, she stopped dwelling. Overthinking only brought trouble.
Better not to think at all.
Leaving Witt pale-faced in the bedroom, Kaelxi went to the bathroom.
She scrubbed the foot that kicked him thoroughly with soap, then wiped it on his pants.
Sniffing it, she detected no odd smell—just fragrance.
Imagining Witt forced to wear these pants while mining, Kaelxi felt giddy.
Wrapping herself in a black robe, she looped two ropes under Witt’s armpits and tied a knot.
Opening the door, she scanned the area, then dragged him out by the ropes.
She hauled Witt toward the southern district’s mine. He lay on his back, his pants grinding against rough stone, tearing a large hole.
Witt’s fingers twitched.
His lips moved: “Kae…lxi…”
Kaelxi didn’t turn back, dismissing it as sleep-talking.
Dawn was near. The mine’s hiring spot loomed close.
She waved the night-shift worker over.
Kaelxi hadn’t sold anyone here before, but she’d caught a trafficker stealing beggars. From him, she’d extracted the whole process.
Traffickers sold able-bodied beggars to mines as indentured laborers for one silver coin each.
Indentured laborers earned no wages—they worked until death.
For mines, cheap labor for a few coins was a bargain.
The trafficker had sobbed he was desperate: indebted to the mine, addicted to drugs, forced to bribe the foreman to avoid bad reports.
Ignoring his pleas, Kaelxi had beaten him badly, broken his legs. Now he begged on streets.
This corrupt mine? As just a Rogue, Kaelxi could only rescue a few at a time. She couldn’t shut it down—other Professionals guarded it.
She was sending Witt in for a lesson. Let this naive fool taste life’s bitterness. She’d rescue him in days.
The worker neared. Time to say goodbye to Witt.
Next time she saved him, hidden in this robe, he wouldn’t recognize her.
Would he even search for Kaelxi?
He might fear seeing her.
Deceiving him, playing with his trust—drugging him, selling him.
Why did this thought weigh on her heart?
Witt’s wrist moved freely now. His lips kept forming: “Kae…lxi…”
Kaelxi squatted, staring down at his sorrowful face.
She leaned close to his ear and whispered:
“Witt, did you dream of me?”
“But I’m not worth dreaming about.”
“Sorry. I have my reasons.”
“Next time, don’t be so easily fooled.”
“You’re so silly. Really silly.”
“But silly in a cute way. I don’t dislike you.”
“Sadly, I’ll never love a man.”
Kaelxi stood, pulling her hood lower.
The foreman, cigarette dangling, strolled over. He eyed Witt on the ground and grinned. “Good quality today.”
Kaelxi ignored him, pinching thumb and forefinger together—a money gesture.
The foreman chuckled dryly, a grating sound like nails on chalkboard. “I get it. Cash on delivery.”
He pulled a muddy silver coin from his pocket, wiped it on his shirt, and tossed it to her.
Kaelxi caught it, checked under moonlight. Genuine silver.
“Haven’t seen you lately. Why so bundled up?”
Kaelxi deepened her voice. “Sick. Caught a cold. Dressing warm.”
The foreman believed her. Only mine managers and the trafficker knew this trade.
This wasn’t the trafficker—could it be a cute girl?
Handing over Witt’s ropes, Kaelxi turned to leave.
The foreman sneered suddenly. “Boss thought you’d quit.”
“But you wouldn’t dare.”
“You’ve tasted life’s bitterness, haven’t you?”
“Time to pay your respects to me too, huh?”
Seeing Kaelxi pause, he pressed on. “Don’t forget—we hold your leverage!”
Kaelxi lowered her voice. “Understood. I will.”
She walked away, thinking: “Farewell, Witt.”
