Shadow Slave

Sunny stared at Caster with a grim expression. Despite the amiable smile and reassuring voice, he knew what the handsome Legacy was doing.

He grew up in the outskirts, after all.

Caster had said "I will help you."

But what he actually meant was "I will own you."

Because there was no better leverage than a gruesome secret. This help of his was going to come at a price.

But what choice did Sunny have, really? Unless he was ready to fight and kill Caster right there and then, thus silencing the only witness of his crime forever, he couldn't refuse.

Plus… what Caster thought was going to happen and what would really happen was not as set in stone as it seemed. As long as Sunny was alive, there was hope of turning things around, somehow.

He just had to get through this, one step at a time.

Sunny forced out a smile.

"Thank you, Caster. I won't… won't forget it."

Then, he glanced at the dead body lying at his feet and took a step back, escaping the quickly growing puddle of blood. His face remained calm, but a small, almost imperceptible shiver ran through his body.

"So… what do we do now?"

The proud Legacy lingered, then said in a solemn tone:

you like this. Wait here for a while. I'll bring something for

anywhere near Harper, but Caster was right. Walking around covered

"And then what?"

Caster hesitated.

But… it won't be easy to do without being noticed, if not

could trust the Legacy. What was going to stop him from returning with a crowd of people? But no. Having Sunny

to keep an eye on things after the

Sunny sighed and sat on the floor, resting his back

the ruins, drowning everything in comforting darkness. Of course, he could still see the bloodied body lying motionless on the stones beside him. For

open, staring at

am stuck with

shadow

could do was

Time slowly crawled.

everything needed without raising any suspicion. He had to avoid prying eyes and waste a lot of time conversing with

Caster. Have you seen Sunny?" Do you want to read more

sitting on the floor near the corpse of a young man he had killed, Sunny smiled darkly and listened to what kind of excuse

the sound of rain

was always reminded of the

tragedy, he came from a simple background. His story was more

the city's outer barriers. His

Sunny was around four, his father was killed in a work accident, which was not a rare occurrence among the city maintenance workers. Three years after that, his mother got sick and eventually passed away. Factory workers like her often got sick and

"behavioral problems", which made him pretty much completely undesirable. After enduring