#038. The Place Where the Lights Went Out (3)
—
*Creak––*
Under the hazy morning sunlight,
the massive doors of the hotel opened, and two boys stepped out.
“Alright, I’ll check out the north. They say there are lots of abandoned factories over there.”
“Got it.”
Ray watched as Philip’s figure grew distant. Then, he turned around and headed south, in the opposite direction.
*Tap. Tap.*
The mountains of scrap metal stretched endlessly before him. It felt as if a memory was trying to surface.
*Did I have a dream?*
He furrowed his brows, trying to grasp the elusive recollection of something significant he had seen, but no clear memory emerged.
*…It’s probably just a meaningless dream.*
He shook his head. There was no time to waste on such trivial matters; he had far too much to do.
As he quickened his pace, his thoughts continued.
*”Even after the fire in the basement, that man’s routine hasn’t changed,”* Johnny, who worked at the restaurant across from the basement, had told him.
According to Kedrick, the man was scheduled to visit their hideout in four days.
*”Five times? Six? He’s been there about that many times. He’s never missed a date so far.”*
When the man arrived, he would find only the charred remains of the factory that had once stood there.
Given his obsessive and unhinged nature, it was highly likely that he would begin searching for the missing Kedrick and the children.
With dozens of people in their group, hiding was bound to fail eventually.
*…Not that I intend to hide or run anyway.*
It had been about ten days since Ray arrived in Sector 49. In that time, he had learned a considerable amount about magic, improved his mana manipulation skills, and uncovered a lead about the rainbow.
But he wasn’t satisfied.
*It’s not enough.*
For his goal of revenge, he needed faster progress and greater results.
That’s why he chose to confront the man in the basement. Surely, there were more hidden tools and crucial information waiting down there.
His intuition, honed by years of surviving on the streets, told him so.
*Clack. Clack. Clack.*
Lost in thought, he soon found himself at the southern scrapyard.
He walked deeper in and eventually spotted a parked white car—or rather, one so grimy it appeared closer to gray.
*Creak– Clunk!*
Ray placed the bag of money he brought in the trunk and locked it.
The winnings from his recent bet had nearly doubled his initial stake, leaving him with **2.27 million shillings**—an amount a typical street orphan could scarcely dream of seeing in their lifetime.
*The safest option would be using Philip’s safe, but…*
He felt more comfortable leaving it in the car. It was a precaution in case he had to leave the sector in a hurry without stopping by the hotel.
With his business at the car finished, Ray turned back towards the streets.
Soon, he entered **8th Street**, where the sight of him caused the infamous street gang of Zephyr to scatter in panic.
“……!”
“R-run!”
Had this been before, they would’ve met his gaze with a defiant glare or even brushed shoulders with him to provoke a fight.
*Tap. Tap. Tap.*
Eventually, he reached a bookstore and placed a wooden crate from nearby a short distance from the store before sitting on it.
*She should’ve woken up by now…*
Time passed. Eventually, Veronica appeared on the stairs from the second floor, spotted Ray sitting outside, and hurriedly ran to open the door.
“Ray! Why didn’t you say something if you were here?”
Dusting himself off as he stood, Ray approached Veronica.
“How?”
“Well… by knocking on the door? Or calling my name from the second-floor window?”
“I’ll do that next time.”
“Alright. I’ll keep my ears open every morning.”
Veronica couldn’t hide her delight as she led Ray inside the store.
“I was worried. You didn’t come by yesterday or the day before. Did something happen─”
Her words froze mid-sentence as she noticed the scorch marks on Ray’s clothes, the fresh scratches, and bruises on his face and hands.
“─You got into a fight, didn’t you?”
Her expression grew serious. While she had never lived on the streets herself, Veronica knew the outside world was harsh.
Her vessel quickly filled with white mana.
“This is terrible. Your skin is even burned.”
“It’s fine─”
Ray’s thoughts came to a halt when he saw the way her white mana shimmered.
*…Beautiful.*
That was his honest impression.
He knew that emotions could appear completely different depending on the person.
The texture of the mana, its vibration, and even its resonance varied widely. For instance, some people’s anger was as still as a rock, while others burned like a raging fire.
In most cases, it was the latter.
However, Veronica’s mana was unique. Her white mana gathered in a concentrated glow and radiated thin beams of light.
It felt like a small, gentle sun.
Ray had never seen anything like it before.
The last time he had witnessed her mana, it hadn’t felt this way. Could it be that his ability to perceive her emotions more deeply had unlocked this new vision?
Or had something changed in how Veronica thought of him?
“…….”
He couldn’t be certain. But one thing was clear: he felt paralyzed, as if struck by lightning.
This was the first time Ray had ever encountered such beauty.
“Hold still. I’ll heal you.”
Veronica reached out, her white mana gathering in her hands.
The moment Ray snapped out of it, he seized control of her mana.
“Ah! My mana!”
The white mana scattered like smoke before it could transform into magic.
“Your grandfather warned you about mana poisoning if you keep using ambient mana.”
“Ah…!”
She looked startled, realizing she had almost acted recklessly out of worry.
“It’s fine. These are minor injuries, and I’ve already treated them. Disinfected and applied ointment too.”
“Ah, I see! That’s a relief.”
“But Veronica.”
“Yes?”
“Do you consider me a friend?”
Ray’s expression was deeply serious.
He truly wanted to know.
Veronica had been willing to use magic without expecting anything in return, even risking the dangers of mana poisoning.
*”The desire to give without expecting anything. The will to protect someone, even at your own expense.”*
That’s how Philip had described friendship.
Did others hold similar views?
“Uh… a friend…?”
Veronica was taken aback by Ray’s sudden question.
Why was he asking this out of the blue? Did he have a particular answer in mind?
Even though she wanted to answer, the words wouldn’t come out—her thoughts had frozen.
**”Do you think of me as a friend?”**
It was a question that could be both endlessly simple and endlessly complex.
**‘A friend…?’**
Veronica had never contemplated this before. And if it weren’t for this boy, she might never have given it much thought. The question tangled her mind.
It was certain that she had a fondness for him. After all, he had saved her twice in life-threatening situations. His decisiveness and ability to act were qualities she admired—things she lacked herself. Moreover, their shared connection to magic fostered a sense of inner closeness.
**‘It wouldn’t be wrong to call him a friend… would it? Or would it? But this is only the third time we’ve seen each other.’**
What if I’m the only one who thinks we’re friends?
Veronica pressed her fingers against her temples, deep in thought. Eventually, she made up her mind and spoke with determination.
“Yes. I think of you as a friend.”
She answered confidently, her voice unwavering. Then, with eyes full of hope, she looked at Ray. Her heart raced with anticipation as she waited for him to affirm her answer.
“I see. Got it. Let’s go see your grandfather, then.”
“Huh? Huh?”
But that was the end of it.
Ray walked past the flustered Veronica and led the way up the stairs.
His curiosity was satisfied, so he saw no reason to continue the topic.
Veronica hurriedly caught up, closing the gap between them as they climbed the stairs.
“What about you? What do you think?”
“What?”
“Do you think of me as a friend?”
Ray was silent for a moment. The creaking of the stairs filled the quiet between them.
In the slightly tense air, Ray finally spoke.
“No.”
Veronica froze mid-step. Her pale face turned as red as her hair.
“Whaaat─?! You jerk─!”
Her voice, filled with frustration and embarrassment, echoed through the bookstore.
—
—
—
**Knock, knock.**
“Grandfather, Ray is here. May we come in?”
─Come in.
Veronica looked at Ray and said, “Go ahead. I’ll be back after taking care of my siblings’ meals.”
“Got it.”
“…Hmph.”
As Veronica stomped off down the hallway, Ray tilted his head in confusion. Though he didn’t realize it, her face was slightly pouty, and her attitude carried an air of disappointment.
**‘Why did she suddenly yell earlier? Did something bad cross her mind?’**
Ray pondered briefly but couldn’t pinpoint a reason.
**Creak──**
As he opened the door, he saw an elderly man sitting up in bed, propped against the headboard. On the bedside table was an empty meal tray, and a cool morning breeze fluttered through the curtains of the open window.
The old man, looking visibly more haggard than before, greeted Ray with a tired smile.
“It’s been a while. Was it three days ago when we last talked? I fell asleep mid-conversation, didn’t I?”
Perhaps it was just Ray’s imagination, but the man looked noticeably more frail than before.
“They say people sleep less as they age, but for me, it seems to increase. At this rate, I’ll spend all day sleeping.”
It was meant as a joke, but Ray didn’t catch the humor. He simply recalled what Veronica had told him and decided to steer the conversation forward.
“I heard you’re ill.”
“Yes, a very troublesome illness indeed. It’s not enough that an old man with little time left is plagued by this.”
“Are you going to die soon?”
“I estimated I had about six months left, but seeing my state now, I doubt I’ll last that long.”
Not much was known about the disease, **Terminal Sleep Syndrome**. Though many had tried to study it, no breakthroughs had been made. The cause and cure remained a mystery. The only certainty was that sufferers would gradually sleep more and more until they fell into a final, unending slumber, leading to death—usually within a year.
“It means I don’t have much time to teach you magic. That’s why we’ll start lessons right away.”
The old man looked at Ray with the voice of someone who had much to leave behind.
