In The Eye of The Beholder(chap20) Diamond in the rough

In the decrepit alleyway of the outskirts, Silas stared at the unknown beauty who continued to pinch his cheek despite the panic in his eyes. He couldn't see her eyes behind the polarized glasses resting on her nose, but he could clearly make out the amused smile playing on her lips.

"Who... who are you?!?" Silas managed to stammer. It was surprisingly difficult to speak coherently when one of your cheeks was being pulled. She let the question hang in the air before releasing his cheek and quickly hoisting him to his feet.

"I'm Ascended Winter, but that doesn't really matter right now," she said, her voice playful yet carrying an undertone of authority. She shrugged before gazing at Silas, her tone growing slightly deeper. "More importantly, sleeper, you should really be at a local police station, locked up in case you failed the trial. The third directive, kid—do you know it?"

Silas flinched under her overpowering presence. 'How did she know I was a sleeper? I could have just been some street rat in the alleyway. And why is a Master here?!'

He broke away from her hidden gaze and mumbled, "I... uh, couldn't make it in time."

Winter's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "You couldn't walk to the station for at least four days? You should have known the symptoms and gone to one, or even spoken to an officer on patrol. Because if you didn't succeed in the trial, you probably would have caused the death of a couple dozen people."

Silas reeled back slightly before answering. "Ms... uh, Master Winter, I could barely walk before the nightmare. The officers, if I'd actually spotted any, would have probably ignored me, even if I begged. So... sorry." He tried to sound more confident, but it was clear he was failing.

Silas had dealt with many challenging situations and dangers throughout his life, but being a good conversationalist had never come up. He didn't really talk to people much at all. After all, who would decide to chat with the diseased street kid? If he was looking for a mutual friend to talk with, he would have better luck with the voices in his head.

Winter observed the timid wreck that was Silas. The kid could barely talk to her, yet he managed to complete the first nightmare. A person from the outskirts who actually managed to survive was rare; she could only think of one off the top of her head—her boss, Jet.

The only reason she had traveled through the outskirts was to meet the Soul Reaper, yet she found Silas on the way, passed out on the floor, reeking of the Spell.

Jet, of course, seemed like the polar opposite of Silas. She had proved herself as one of the best the government had to offer, despite her upbringing. So encountering someone who might do the same...

It lit a spark in Winter's crimson eyes, hidden behind the shades. The boy in front of her probably had one thing: potential.

Listening to Silas's excuses, Winter sighed and continued. "Okay, well, it's really too late for excuses—not that I care, really. It's done and over, so let's just get you registered, okay?" She gestured for Silas to follow her.

He nodded and began walking behind her. As soon as they exited the alleyway, the unpleasant breeze of the outskirts hit Silas's face. The diminished city blocks revealed themselves, lined up one after another with little difference between each muddled home.

After all, they were only really holding cells for the people of the outskirts who could actually afford housing, left to rot away, expending their usefulness to humanity through labor until they finally perished.

That was the goal of the outskirts in the first place. Humanity's benefits were not plentiful enough to be shared with the little population the world had. So, they were designated to be left in the heap.

Silas quickly took another glance beyond the gargantuan walls of the inner city. The towering gates did well to keep the luxury away from them, though he could see the skyscrapers of the inner city perfectly clear. Apart from the light show that displayed at night, they were exactly the same.

Such a fact was surprising yet expected, of course. He felt like it had been years through that nightmare, yet it had probably been just a day in the waking world. Not that Silas had been unchanging, of course.

He felt the power of a dreamer—strength that he could only dream of, something to finally kickstart the defiance he had been craving all his life. Simply a reason to keep going, to keep living his miserable life. Of course, now he had found another reason.

Scrolling through the shimmering runes, he focused on the ethereal scripture.

[Debts]

[Azell - ██████░░░░] - 60%

Just looking at the name seemed to wrench his heart. Guilt, sorrow, anger, and many more emotions welled up whenever he read the runes. It was painful to acknowledge, yet invigorating to hope—hope that he could finally see her again.

Though the description of [Oathbound Conscientious] did give him some fear, he would truly have to pay her back like he always wished. Yet the unknown effects of the flaw weighed down on him.

It was a new part of life that he had to get used to, yet he had never experienced its effects, so he simply had no idea how to mitigate its downsides. He could only hope for the best.

Winter noticed Silas lagging behind, his eyes distant, almost as if he were walking through a different world altogether. She sighed, recognizing that look—one she had seen countless times before in the eyes of those who had barely survived their first trial.

"Hey," she called out, her voice cutting through the haze of Silas's thoughts. When he didn't respond, she slowed her pace and turned to face him, stepping directly into his path. "You still with me, kid?"

Silas blinked, her voice anchoring him back to reality. He met her gaze—or at least, tried to through the dark shades that concealed her eyes. "Sorry," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to shake off the weight of his thoughts. "Just... thinking."

"Yeah, I figured," Winter replied, her tone gentler than before. "Listen, you're not the first one to get lost in your own head after a nightmare. Though you can do that thinking with a consular later, right now we've got to get you registered, and I doubt those runes are going to help you with that."

Silas nodded, though the lingering effects of his introspection still tugged at him. He hadn't realized just how deep into his own mind he had fallen. It was almost like the nightmare had left a part of him there, still wandering through its twisted corridors.

Winter studied him for a moment longer, then seemed to come to a decision. "Tell you what," she said, her voice taking on a lighter, almost teasing tone, "how about we get out of this dump and head over to the station in style?"

Silas looked at her quizzically, unsure of what she meant. Winter simply jerked her thumb over her shoulder, and Silas's eyes followed the motion to where a sleek, matte-black PTV was parked a few steps away. It stood out like a sore thumb in the dilapidated surroundings, the kind of vehicle that had no business being in the outskirts.

He could see passersby who had already been staring at Winter, now also staring at the glamorous PTV. The attention unnerved him, yet at the same time, it was infinitely better than what he had been used to all his life—people intentionally trying not to look at him.

He quickly glanced into Winter's polarized glasses and answered with newfound enthusiasm, "Yes...!" He attempted to sound serious and not overjoyed at the prospect of riding in an expensive PTV, though his eagerness slipped through. It had been one of the many things he had dreamt about once he finally escaped the dreaded outskirts.

Winter was surprised for a second by the change in mood. A quick laugh escaped her before she brought out the keys and unlocked the vehicle, the matte-black doors opening themselves for the incoming passengers.

Silas quickly hopped into the passenger seat, the leather chairs feeling simply divine. He let himself sink into the luxury a bit further before quickly glancing at the controls. All the buttons and switches certainly looked hard to navigate with ease.

Winter jumped in, both doors closing themselves, leaving the two in the enclosed space of the PTV. The outskirts' noise was blocked by the soundproofed doors, the horrible air being cleaned through one of the many filters in the metal beast.

Winter grasped the wheel before glancing at Silas. "Hey, kid, I never really asked for your name." She tilted her glasses slightly, her crimson pupils just showing their edge.

"Silas."

Winter's eyebrows raised before continuing. "Well then, Silas, you might want to buckle up."

Silas tilted his head in confusion. "Why?"

She simply started to smirk, clearly finding something funny. "Because I'm supposed to meet with my boss soon, I didn't plan on picking up a sleeper on my way, so I'm very late!" She laughed before slamming her foot on the gas.

Silas could only stare in horror for that moment before the car shot forward, the G-force sending him sinking into his seat as the PTV accelerated with mechanical fury.

His hopes of a luxury cruise in an expensive PTV quickly crashed and burned as the car swerved around the street-side obstacles,

pavement with every turn. 

As the city blurred past in a chaotic whirl of colours and motion, Silas clenched the edge of his seat, realizing that surviving the nightmare might have been the easy part—if he could make it to the station in one piece.