The afternoon market boiled like a frying pan. Heat radiated off the cobblestones.

The cloying scent of dried herbs mixed with sweat and dust, hanging low and sticky in the air.

Pain wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and let out a theatrical sigh.

"Ugh. I’m turning into a baked apple here. Hey Jack, isn't the sun in this country trying a little too hard?"

"Stop whining. Move your legs, not your mouth."

Jack, walking ahead, offered zero sympathy.

Pain shrugged and glanced at Salt beside him. She hadn’t complained once, despite the large bag she clutched to her chest.

Her grey-blue eyes darted around, fascinated by the shouting vendors and the brightly colored fruit.

Peaceful. So peaceful it bordered on boring.

Thinking this, Pain ducked into a side alley to cut travel time.

The air snapped shut.

The market’s roar vanished, as if he had plunged underwater.

Sunlight failed to reach here.

The smell of damp moss and old brick took over. No, not just that.

Pain stopped. He twitched his nose.

"…Smell that? Something’s off."

Jack glanced back.

"Rotten fish? Standard for a market backstreet."

"No. Not garbage… it’s dusty."

Pain tilted his head, searching for the words.

"Like the inside of a drawer that hasn’t been opened in years."

Jack frowned but kept walking.

Pain shook it off and followed.

In his peripheral vision, a ventilation grate sat embedded in the wall. Black grease stained the bricks below its dark mouth.

There was no wind. Yet, a rag snagged on the grate’s edge fluttered, pushed by a soft breeze from within.

A sound drifted from the deep dark.

…Squelch… wheeze…

Pain furrowed his brows.

What was that? A broken pump?

A sticky, wet noise. Something forcing itself through a narrow, slick pipe.

Like a giant lung contracting through a layer of mucus.

"…Pipe’s clogged. Nasty sound."

Pain cracked a joke and walked past, dismissing it.

Only Salt flinched. She pressed her hands over her ears, shoulders trembling.

But Jack was setting a fast pace, so she trotted to catch up.

Behind them, the rag fluttered again.

Squelch… drag…

A chill crawled up Pain’s spine. He decided it was just the shade and kept moving.

Two turns later, the main street was just ahead. Or so he thought.

A white shadow blocked the path.

Soldiers. Two of them. Clad in white armor, standing at rigid attention.

"…Ugh. Patrol?"

Pain whispered, slowing his pace naturally. This was a hassle.

But the feeling was wrong. They didn’t move. They were too still.

He thought they might be sleeping on the job, but their shoulders didn’t even rise with breath.

They just stood there. Objects placed on the stones.

Zero motivation, huh.

Pain stepped closer, half-exasperated.

Snap.

Without a sound, a soldier faced him.

The movement was too smooth. From statue-stillness to full attention with no wind-up. The face just arrived.

Inside the helm, eyes narrowed gently. No hostility.

One soldier walked forward. The footsteps were heavy, calm.

"…May I see your transit pass."

The voice was polite. A little raspy, but the standard, bureaucratic tone of a civil servant.

Jack stepped up.

"No pass required for this sector. Check your regulations."

The soldier didn’t flinch at Jack’s aggression. He just tilted his head, seemingly troubled.

"…However. Rules are rules. Without a pass, I cannot allow…"

Wow. By the book. Great.

Pain clicked his tongue internally. Arguing with this type was a waste of life.

He quickly wedged himself between them, plastering a goofy, harmless grin on his face.

"Haha! Good work, officers! No, no, we’re not suspicious! We were just, uh, looking for a cat!"

Pain’s voice echoed in the dead silence of the alley. The soldier froze.

"…A cat?"

"Yeah! Lost kitten! Super tiny! You know, community service and all that? Right?"

Pain gestured wildly, begging for agreement.

The soldier went silent for several seconds. A pause. Processing under the helmet.

Then—

"…Ah. I see. A cat."

The soldier nodded deeply. The voice carried a strange amount of weight. As if the word "cat" was the only thing that registered.

"In that case, it cannot be helped. …Please. Go ahead."

The soldier stepped aside effortlessly.

Pain blinked. Huh. Easier than I thought.

"Thanks! Keep up the hard work!"

Relief washed over him. Pain turned to Jack, signaling him to move.

It happened in that split second.

The soldier slipped out of Pain’s direct line of sight.

Behind him, a dry sound cracked.

Merimeri.

Like a bundle of dried twigs being forcibly twisted. Hollow. Light.

"Eh?"

Pain turned around on reflex.

That wasn’t the sound of a human moving. It sounded like scrap wood rubbing together.

But there was nothing. The soldiers stood at attention.

Same posture. Motionless. Radiating a gentle aura.

…Hearing things?

Pain tilted his head. The soldiers remained still.

Only Salt stared at them, her face pale, small tremors running through her body.

"Move."

Jack whispered sharply, grabbing Salt’s shoulder.

Pain scrambled to follow. As they passed, the soldier spoke softly.

"…Take care. …Do not get lost."

"Ah, yeah. Thanks."

Pain waved a hand loosely. Nice guys, actually. Bad habit to suspect everyone.

He walked a few steps. Then, it hit him.

The intonation. "Do not get lost."

It was too flat. Like audio played back without understanding the meaning.

Pain glanced back. Just one last look.

Deep in the alley. The soldiers were still watching them.

Their bodies faced forward. Their heads were turned directly backward.

—Hah?

Pain blinked. No. Trick of the light.

Heat haze. Shadows on the helm.

Because a neck doesn’t turn that far.

The soldier’s hand seemed to wave. The wrist, too, flopped in a direction that shouldn't be possible—Pain snapped his head forward.

I didn't see that.

He sucked in a breath and speed-walked toward the exit. His heart made a nasty, thudding sound against his ribs.

Light and sound returned. Chatter, wind, the noise of living things.

Pain stretched his arms, forcibly exhaling the stagnant air from his lungs.

"Phew. Weird guys. Are we sure the city is safe with them guarding it?"

"…Something’s wrong with them," Jack spat, voice low.

"Right? Well, they let us through, so whatever."

Pain laughed it off and looked back at Salt. She was still gripping his sleeve, looking anxious.

"It's okay, Salt. Just helpful soldiers. A little quirky, that's all."

He patted her head. Nothing happened.

Just a slice of daily life. He told himself that.

"Alright, food time! Heard there’s a killer food stall around here."

Pain raised his voice brightly and stepped out.

His steps were light. The alleyway was already the past.

In the bustle of the main street. No one noticed.

Deep in the distant alley, from that black ventilation grate—

—Squelch… wheeze…

The wet, breathing sound still echoed faintly.

Under the bright sun, people laughed. Unaware that just one layer beneath their daily lives, something had quietly begun to rot.