Ginger lives in the Sewers. The Sewers do not refer to a network of pipelines, but a slum by the outer boundaries of Outer City. It is the junction of the sewage networks of the City, and so there is a characteristic smell. Eventually, the whole area came to be referred to as the Sewers.
This place is an apt representation of the saying âthe greatest evil in the world is poverty.â Every few steps is another crime scene. Robberies and burglaries are everyday occurrences, and so are blackmails and extortions. This is a criminal paradise. This is where the worst of the worst extends their pathetic existences. This is where the citizens take their trash and unwanted to. There is a stench of something rotting blanketing the whole atmosphere.
Piers has complained before that Ginger is economically advantaged enough to improve his life, yet he chooses to remain where he grew up. He cannot fathom it and calls Ginger cheap to the bone. It isnât that hard to understand, to be honest. Instead of a golden axe or a silver axe, the best axe is the familiar axe. People tend to return to where they are familiar, where there is a familiar scent, where there is a familiar environment, even if it is dirty and chaotic and dangerous, but the feeling itself is familiar. The brain releases chemicals that make the person feel secure.
At a certain intersection, a child with dewy-eyes is sitting on the ground. His clothes are ragged and a broken bowl is in front of him. He spits at a naked middle-aged woman, and laughs, âbitchy slut!â The latter is also chiding, âShorty, the next time I see you pretending to be a kid and robbing my business, Iâll find people to gang-rape you!â
âDo it if you can! I can take anything you stuff into me!â He still wants to continue, but then he sees a strange person not from here. In his arms is a person wrapped tightly in a black robe. They are walking along the street.
Shorty smacks his mouth. Recently theyâve become a popular tourist spot for the citizens. Since they have got a Ginger that is so hot online, he's combusting . Since thereâs been more tourists heâs been able to make a bit more money.
While the person whoâs walking towards him is average in appearance, but his physique is imposing. All those muscles are making his mouth water.
That person gives him some money, his tone low and stable, âbring me to the dirtiest place here.â
âSure, I know the place better than anyone.â Shorty takes the money without second thoughts, feeling a bit regretful that the bitchy slut is spouting all that nonsense, or he could have pretended to be a kid and made more.
Bright follows the tour guide he picked on random, and met trouble.
The shady tour guide led him into a trap. A few unsavoury-looking men have surrounded him in a dark alleyway, saying, âhey boy, give us everything valuable you got.â They are carrying wrenches in their hands; noticeable tattoos cover their bodies.
What a great service!
To be honest, Bright hasnât yet decided what to do with Shithead. He has fantasised countless times to use the cruellest and scariest punishment on him, something like the A Chinese Torture Chamber Story . Though to want to do so is completely different from actually doing it. It is very difficult to execute in action, whether mentally or materially.
He has walked past black and gooey and smelly ditches. He wanted to dump Shithead who is a clean freak into it for a bath, then give him a good electrotherapy with a taser, but then to bring him back will make himself dirty as well, so he gave up on that.
Yet even the heavens have delivered a chance into his hands. He doesnât have to dirty himself.
Bright puts the Shithead onto the ground. His arms in front of his chest with his palms opened to show he is harmless, and backs off gradually.
âWhatâs this?â The habitual robbers feel the situation is odd. The man does not appear to be afraid, yet he surrendered easily. The moment their attention is divided examining the object on the ground, Bright has disappeared from sight. He didnât leave, but instead has hidden himself on the roof of a building, where he can see the situation below clearly.
âFuck! Itâs a sexy boy!â Someone lifts the black robe away in one fell swoop, then his eyes widened and he starts salivating more quickly.
âThereâs no free lunch in the world.â An accomplice of his says.
âThis face, this body⌠Look, heâs already wet. Fuck it, I donât care, Iâll have a go firstâŚâ He unbuckles as he says so.
âHaha, yeah, this is worth dying for! Hold him downââDonât struggle, cutie, your skin is so smooth, like silk, and white, and it bruises so easily when I pinch it.â That man laughs with a perverted expression as he lifts the sexy boy up by the arms and holds him in place, pulling him into his arms.
âThe one who ran away is your darling? People are shittier nowadays, eh, he threw you away and left. Come, let big brother take care of you well.â
The black pair of eyes look at the person in front of him like a dead corpse.
A criminal whoâs touching him here and there is spooked by the gaze, and slaps him out of displeasure. The young, white face immediately swells up, a clear palm printed on it.
Someone who has been ordered to keep watch complains, âdonât kill him, I want to fuck him too.â
âJust wait a while. Weâll sell him after weâre done. This will be worth a lotâŚâ
Bright is watching the utterly deplorable scene below. Itâs a Hell he has created by his hands. Unfortunately, he cannot feel any emotions that are like relief or satisfaction. Doubt has climbed into his expression and made a nest in his eyes. It is casting something like a membrane onto his eyesight, and he cannot see the world, nor himself, clearly.
Thereâs suddenly music coming into his ears. It seems there was someone besides him on the roof. He didnât notice him because his mind was much too muddled.
Itâs an old blind hunchback. His eyes are disfigured with hideous wounds, like he is made blind by heated red-hot iron or something of the likes. He is standing in the wind with an old saxophone, and performing to an empty audience. His skin is yellowed and flappy; his clothes are torn and ripped; his white beard is messy and tangled. The passing of time has not been kind to him, and yet his expression looks so peaceful and serene. He is completely immersed in the world of his music.
The saxophone is said to be the most romantic instrument. If not, then at least itâs the wildest . The sound is detailed and roundabout, fresh and reverberant. The bass is deep and calm. The treble is clear and piercing.
He can tell the name of the song just from the prelude. Itâs not that he is knowledgeable about music, but that the song is too famous. Itâs â Going Home ,â the one with the heartwarming backstory about the yellow ribbon. Itâs about a husband who has recently been released from prison, his wife who forgives him and welcomes him back home, and an old oak tree with countless yellow ribbons on its branches.
The romantic and kind rhythm wades in through the wind. The affection embedded within clears up the fog in Brightâs mind a little.
Shit, what has he done!
He can see his future self on the apathetic face of Hopkin. He is that pitiable, innocent victim.
He has drowned in a sea of sorrow, powerless in his struggles, not one saviour coming to his rescue. He is overflowing with hatred towards the world and deep, endless hopelessness.
To fight evil with evil. At the same time, he is punishing his enemies he is slowly dying inside as well. He will transform from victim to perpetrator. He will become another of the ugliness he used to despise and hate to no end.
He shouldnât have been led astray by his emotions of fear and hatred, to have done what abominable acts only people of the City would commit.
If he can do that to others, is there still meaning in the freedom he so desperately seeks? For what reason is he escaping this City of Sin again? Isnât it to get far away from these morally bankrupt barbaric deeds? If, in the name of revenge, he has given up on his principles, he might as well climb to the top to become an Inner City resident, and enjoy a life full of debauchery and extravagance!
The brown pair of eyes are brighter than they have ever been. He can finally see his way forward firmly through the dense fog that mired his mind.
Bright leaps down and kicks away the scum who has spread the aristocratâs legs open in preparation of penetrating.
âKill them, and I will refrain from punishing the entire area.â Hopkin is lying on the ground. His eyes glimmer for a moment when he sees the man. His stance is horrible right now, his body already showing marks and stains here and there, the bruises green and purple. He has been punished while struggling earlier.
âWhat are you saying?â The criminals were interrupted and heard this condescending speech, immediately going into a frenzy; however, they didnât know what enemy they were facing. Not a few seconds have passed before they are lying on the ground, unable to get back up.
âWhy did you⌠come backâŚâ Hopkin is pale as a ghost, and turns his head sideways, retching, throwing up all the remaining liquid in his mouth. His body lies flat on the ground like a delicate doll that is no longer controlled by a puppet master.
The touches were so disgusting he threw up. He is already planning for the worst, but the man changed his idea and even came back. This is unbelievable and extremely shocking.
A strange seed plants itself in the bottom of the aristocratâs heart, breaking through the tough outer shell and struck its roots into the dry and parched land. It is scouring downwards and downwards for nutrients to survive, and it is hurting his chest deeply. It hurts so much he is going insane and he wants to scream out, but his throat feels like itâs stuffed, and no voice comes out.
The man reappearing is even more disappointing and painful than being treated in the cruellest manner, because it is clearly telling him how different the two of them are. He can never have that man. He can never find light.
The effect of the drug and the physical stimulations have made Hopkinâs consciousness unclear, and unable to think clearly. He can feel his body being wrapped up again, hidden and sunk into a powerful embrace.
It was just now that he was rubbed and caressed by several people, and his body has been aroused despite his conscious effort. Now that he is embraced by a man, he is uncontrollably excited. He arches his body, curling his toes, as if he would explode the next second.
He wants it. He desires this man.
A cascade of scenes flash before his eyes, all relating to Bright. His words enveloping his auditory senses.
âI want to see you cum tooâŚâ
âCan I still see you from now on? I want to get to know you better.â
âInner City resident?â
Each sentence, each word, each syllable is an itch on his heart. It is driving his desire, it is playing with his emotions.
Hopkin feels he is losing his mind slowly, especially after he has heard a short musical performance. In his delusion, the man does not do anything to him. He is hugging him and sitting silently on the roof, listening to a calming musical piece. He relaxes for a long while before he realises that it is not a delusion but reality.
He can feel that seed that has planted itself in his heart scour its roots deeper again. Burrowing itself into his blood and flesh like burrowing into dirt, making it more and more difficult to remove it.
It isnât until the song disappears completely when he hears Brightâs voice again.
âRemember this well. What I can do to you,â the man pauses, then continues gradually, âI will not do to you. I will definitely kill you in the future. This is my promise to you and to myself.â