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He spent the whole night running, not stopping because he didn't want to fight people again. It wasn't because he was weak but because he might kill them. He ran through every town he came across, seeing no reason to stop. A few hours later, before the sun had even risen, the city was already in view, its lights shining like a beacon.

He slowed his pace as there was no need to hurry anymore. When the sun finally rose, he bathed in its warmth, feeling refreshed. This was truly his second chance, and there was no way he was going to waste it.

Arriving in the city, flashbacks hit him instantly: he remembered being thrown out, being chased by people who wanted to beat him because of the accusations. He exhaled and continued walking around. Nothing had changed, and he felt nostalgic seeing his favorite spots. Spotting one of his favorite vendors, he ran over excitedly to buy one of the man's special crepes.

"Hello, one of your special crepes, please."

He sat down, looking around the shop. Everything was still the same. To him, it felt like he had been gone for years, but to everyone else, it hadn't been that long. The vendor brought his plate and set it down, but before Vell could even touch the food, the man snatched it away with an angry look on his face.

"You! What are you doing back here? Do you have a death wish?"

The man stormed off to the kitchen to grab something, and the surrounding customers who didn't know the situation were confused, whispering about what Vell could have done to anger such a kind man. It appeared that not everyone cared enough to remember him or what he was accused of.

'Shit, I shouldn't have gotten so excited. I really wanted that crepe, though....it's so delicious.'

He thought, getting up to leave, but the man rushed back with a phone in his hand.

'Guess he told everyone I'm back… Whatever, I'm not scared anymore, but maybe I should just kill him. He did almost shoot me back then after all.'

His fingers twitched with bloodlust, but he calmed himself. This wasn't the time for violence.

'Tch, let's just get out of here. It's not worth the hassle.'

"DON'T YOU DARE COME BACK TO MY SHOP, YOU FREAK! NEXT TIME I WON'T LET YOU OFF SO EASILY."

He ignored the outburst, walking away until the shop was out of sight. It didn't take long before more people began to recognize him, whispering and looking at him with disgust. But he didn't care; they were nothing to him. Why should he care?

'…It's getting annoying being barefoot. Let's go buy some shoes.'

He changed direction to a fancy store that looked way out of his league, with beautiful clothes only the wealthy could afford. Not that it mattered; his real destination was the tiny shop next door.

'Stubborn old man, still operating next to a high-end store. How does he expect to get customers?'

He gently pushed the door open, careful not to break it. The shop was in disrepair, everything covered in dust, as if the owner had given up on cleaning. He looked around, finding many affordable shoes, and chose a pair of white slippers that caught his eye and looked good on him.

'Nice, and to think they're just 99 credits. The old man is still generous with his prices.'

He walked over to the counter and noticed the door to the old man's back office was open, with the sound of a faint argument coming from inside. He casually stepped in and found gang members with guns aimed at the old man, who was shaking and bruised.

"Old man?"

The old man slowly turned to him, recognizing him instantly.

"Vell? What are you doing here, you piece of shit? Leave immediately before—"

One of the gangsters punched the old man, silencing him. The gangster seated at the old man's table stood up and walked toward Vell, twirling a knife.

"Who do we have here? Mister Pervert is back in town."

He pointed the knife at Vell, studying him in silence. The other gang members grew tense, slowly reaching for their guns as if sensing something bad might happen. But then…

"HAHAHA! What happened to you, man? You look different… younger and more handsome. Trying to look better than your bro?"

The gang members were confused. Their usually violent leader was being friendly to someone.

"Tch, still beating up the old man, huh? When are you going to change?" 

"....we have a good reason this time."

The man walked to the table, pulled out a box, and called Vell over. Inside were photos of many young girls, and he recognized several of them. He finally understood why they were targeting the old man.

"Wait, is that—?"

He whispered but couldn't finish before his friend nodded.

"That's the boss's one and only daughter. You remember how he used to freak out when she was around you, just playing. What do you think he'd do if he found out about this?"

"... How did you find out about this?" 

"We caught the old man taking pictures in the park. At first, we didn't think much of it, but he kept doing it over and over. We got suspicious and confronted him. If we were wrong, we'd have apologized and given him some credits. But after finding these… If we take him to the boss, things will get ugly fast."

His friend closed the box, exchanging looks with Vell and then at the old man. He didn't know what would happen, but it wasn't his business. He took out his pouch, placed 99 credits on the table, and looked at his friend one last time.

"I get what you need to do. I don't like this side of you, but I can't stop you. Come find me later. I'll treat you to something good."

He hugged his friend and began to leave. His friend watched him, sensing something different about him, the way he walked, talked, and the look in his eyes. It was as if he had become a completely different person.

'I'm sorry you went through so much because of lies, my friend. I hope you can recover and move on.'

He thought, placing the box back into the desk and walking over to the old man to finish the job himself.