"The Marriott at the city center. Behind it, Mr. Nowak, Casimir's disciple, you can learn a lot from him. Go to Wroclaw." What Tomasz, the man that Hannah and he had met with before, had said echoed in Kazou's memory.

  The night air by the Vistula was damp and cold, carrying the sharp stink of smoke that clung to the sky even here. The river rippled black under the neon glow of the bridges, its surface broken by drifting embers that the wind had carried from ?ródmie?cie. Kazou’s chest heaved with every step, his ribs aflame, his legs trembling. But he kept running. He had promised.

  The pistol weighed heavily in his pocket, a foreign weight, hateful. His hand brushed against it once, instinctively, before pulling back like he’d touched fire.

  Ahead, on the bank where the reeds bent in the night breeze, two figures emerged out of the haze—one tall, rigid, gun still raised; the other small, clinging tight to her side. Hannah. The blonde girl spotted him first. Her pistol jerked upward, aimed at his chest in the same instant she saw movement. Her whole body coiled, finger twitching on the trigger.

  “Stop!” she hissed, sharp as broken glass.

  Kazou froze, his breath tearing at his lungs, his silhouette framed by the flames still eating at the skyline behind him.

  “It’s me,” he rasped, voice broken from smoke.

  For a heartbeat too long, she didn’t lower the gun. Her eyes searched his face, hunting for any sign of trickery, any ghost of Nowak’s men lurking in his shadow. Only when Hannah cried out—her muffled voice breaking, raw and desperate—did the girl finally let the pistol drop a fraction.

  “Kuroda!” Hannah’s small arms wriggled free. She bolted across the mud, tripping once, then flung herself against him. Kazou staggered under her weight, catching her, his arms trembling as he held her close. He pressed his cheek against her hair, shutting his eyes. The smell of smoke clung to her, but she was alive.

  “You came back,” Hannah whispered, almost disbelieving.

  Kazou’s throat tightened. “I promised I would.”

  Behind them, the blonde girl stayed taut, scanning the shadows, her pistol raised again. Her voice was clipped, tense. “You weren’t followed?”

  Kazou shook his head, still clutching Hannah. “Not this far. But they’ll spread out. It won’t take them long to search the riverbanks.”

  The girl’s gaze flicked between him and the skyline. The city behind them was bleeding fire into the night. Whole streets were shadows now, swallowed by flame. Sirens still hadn’t come. Only the crackle of destruction carried over the water.

  Hannah’s small hand clutched at Kazou’s collar. “Doctor… the fire… It’s getting bigger.” Her voice trembled. “Will it come here too?”

  Kazou crouched down to meet her eyes, forcing calm into his own even as the heat still burned on his skin. “Not here. You’re safe by the river. Do you hear me? You’re safe.”

  But when he looked past her—at the blonde girl’s narrowed eyes, at the orange glow spreading wider across the skyline—he knew safety was only an illusion.

  The blonde girl’s jaw tightened. “We can’t stay. If Nowak’s men don’t find us, the fire will.”

  Kazou nodded slowly. His body ached, his chest screamed for rest—but he knew she was right.

  And still, even as the river lapped cold against the stones, even as Hannah clung to him and the girl’s eyes pressed him forward, he couldn’t shake the sound of Nowak’s laughter echoing from the burning district.

  The fire hadn’t been meant to destroy. It had been meant to summon.

  THWUMP! THWUMP!

  Suddenly, the pounding of boots echoed across the night, closing in fast.

  “Look out!” the blonde girl cried.

  Hannah screamed and dropped low, throwing her arms over her head. The attackers rushed past her, a blur of shadows and steel—Casimir’s men.

  “Stop it!” Kazou’s voice cracked with rage. His hand shot into his jacket, fingers closing around the pistol he’d stuffed there. He tore it free and leveled it with shaking hands. “LEAVE US ALONE!”

  "Kuroda?!" Hannah yelped in surprise.

  One of the men lunged, teeth bared. Kazou froze—but before the blow could land, the blonde girl stepped in. Her boot connected with the man’s chest, a bone-jarring CRACK, and she hurled him to the ground with a brutal twist.

  “Run!” she shouted.

  Kazou snapped his head around. Ahead—the river. A ferry. Its lights shimmered across the black water, its engine already groaning to life. Their last chance.

  “There!” the blonde girl yelled. “We have to make it before it pulls away!”

  “OH NO YOU DON’T!” one of the men roared, drawing a blade.

  “SHUT UP!” she screamed back. Without hesitation, she raised the pistol, her jaw set. BANG! BANG! BANG! Three shots cracked through the night. Not kill shots—legs, deliberate and precise. The men howled, collapsing in the street, clutching their wounds.

  “Move!”

  The blonde girl sprinted. Kazou bent low, scooping Hannah up into his arms. She whimpered against his chest, her small frame trembling violently, but he held her tight. His lungs burned, his legs threatened to give way, but he forced himself forward. The ferry’s horn wailed, a mournful cry. The gangway was already beginning to retract.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  “Come on!” he shouted, his voice raw.

  The blonde girl was ahead, her silhouette cutting sharply against the pier lights. Kazou drove himself harder, his breath ragged, each step a battle against exhaustion. The wooden boards of the dock rattled beneath his boots. The gangway was lifting.

  “Wait!” Kazou bellowed at the crew, “Don’t leave! Please!”

  The blonde girl spun toward Kazou, her red lips parted with desperation. “Where does this ferry go!?”

  “I don’t care!” Kazou gasped, stumbling onto the pier. His grip on Hannah tightened. “Just take us—take us anywhere!”

  Then, almost to himself, his voice broke in a whisper only the blonde girl caught:

  “To Wroc?aw. Like Mr. Tomasz said… I need to go to Wroclaw."

  Her head jerked toward him, eyes widening in disbelief. “Wroc?aw? Tomasz?!” Her voice dropped to a mutter, "Mr. Tomasz... I know him... Familiar..."

  "Huh?"

  The woman's grip tightened on him, urging him faster. They ran, following the river and the boat at the dock in the near distance..

  Kazou's chest heaved as he caught sight of their escape-just ahead, the lights of a ferry boat glimmered, the boat's final departure looming.

  The blonde girl was ahead, her silhouette cutting sharply against the pale glow of the pier lamps. Her hair caught the light for a moment like a flare before vanishing again into the dark. Kazou forced his legs to keep moving, each stride heavier than the last. His lungs burned, breath tearing raggedly in and out, but he didn’t dare slow. The wooden boards of the dock rattled beneath his boots, hollow, unsteady. The river beside them surged black and cold, flecked with thin streaks of silver from the reflected lights.

  The gangway was already rising.

  “Wait!” Kazou’s voice cracked as he bellowed toward the crew. “Don’t leave! Please!”

  The blonde girl whipped around at the sound of his voice. Her lips parted, desperate and trembling. “Where does this ferry go?” she shouted, her words catching in the wind.

  “I don’t care!” Kazou gasped, nearly stumbling as his boot caught between the boards. His grip on Hannah tightened, lifting her higher against his chest. “Just take us—take us anywhere!”

  And then, quieter—so faint it was almost lost to the night—he whispered, as if speaking to himself: “To Wroc?aw. Like Mr. Tomasz said… I need to go to Wroc?aw.”

  The woman froze. Her head snapped toward him, eyes wide, sharp with disbelief. “Wroc?aw? Tomasz?!” Her voice dropped, as though she hadn’t meant to speak aloud. “Mr. Tomasz… I know him. Familiar…”

  Kazou frowned, dazed, but the moment was gone before he could ask. Her hand closed tight around his wrist, urging him forward. “Run.”

  Together they pushed on, following the current of the river where the ferry lights gleamed ahead—yellow and unsteady in the dark, growing dimmer with each second. Kazou’s chest rose and fell like a hammer. His thighs screamed, his shoulders ached from Hannah’s weight, but the thought of stopping felt worse than death.

  “Come on!” His voice was raw, barely carrying over the water.

  The blonde girl didn’t answer. She was already ahead, her figure darting like a shadow toward the pier. Kazou gritted his teeth and followed, every step pounding through his body.

  By the time he reached the end of the dock, the gangway was halfway up. The final lifeline.

  “Wait!” Kazou rasped, stumbling forward. He waved his free hand, desperation pulling the word out of his chest.

  Two crewmen on deck turned their heads. One frowned, the other shook his head. “You can’t just board!” one of them barked, his Polish thick with fatigue. “It’s too late!”

  Kazou’s vision blurred with sweat, the world narrowing to that last strip of wood and rope between him and the river. He lunged, boots thudding onto the gangway just as it creaked upward. Hannah whimpered against him, clutching his coat.

  “You don’t understand!” Kazou shouted, his throat raw. He shoved forward, the blonde girl right at his side. “They’re going to kill us if we don’t get on this boat!”

  The crew hesitated, exchanging uncertain looks. One muttered something under his breath, but Kazou didn’t wait to hear. He and the blonde pushed past, stumbling onto the deck, chest heaving.

  Shouts carried across the water. The Burning men on the docks.

  “Don’t let them leave!” one roared, his voice breaking into a snarl.

  But the engines had already groaned awake. The ferry shuddered, heavy as it tore itself from the pier. Water churned at its stern, white foam slapping against the dark current. The gap widened. The men on the dock ran, but they were too late.

  The ship slid into the river’s current, slow at first, then steady. The lights of the city thinned behind them, swallowed by distance and dark.

  Kazou staggered toward the rail, Hannah clutched tight in his arms, watching the shore pull away. His breath still came hard, like he hadn’t escaped yet.

  Beside him, the blonde girl pressed her hand to the cold metal railing, eyes fixed on the black water.

  They had made it.

  Kazou leaned against the cold metal of the wall of the halls inside. But he was outside, trying to catch his breath. His heart was still racing, but he could feel the immediate danger ebbing away. The blonde woman was standing next to him, her eyes wide with a mixture of relief and uncertainty. Shockingly, her makeup hadn't smeared at all.

  "Are you okay?" she asked, still out of breath.

  Kazou nodded, though it was clear that he was far from fine.

  "Yeah," he said, his voice hoarse. "I'm fine."

  Hannah leaned against the wall, bouncing a left behind beach ball beside Kazou.

  "Are you okay?" The woman asked Hannah, her voice softening.

  "Yeah! That was kinda cool!" Hannah chuckled.

  * * *

  The ferry had long since slipped away from the city, its lights now just a faint glow swallowed by the night behind them. Out on the deck, Kazou sat against the same wall, Hannah curled in his lap. She was fast asleep, her small body rising and falling with each of his breaths, his jacket draped over her like a makeshift blanket.

  For the first time in hours, there was silence. Real silence.

  Beside him, the blonde woman sat with her hands folded loosely in her lap. She wasn’t looking at him, only at the water stretching out into darkness.

  Kazou’s throat tightened. He swallowed and finally whispered, “Thank you.” The words came out smaller than he intended. He glanced at her, eyes heavy with exhaustion. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t shown up.”

  At that, she turned slightly. A small smile tugged at her lips, “Yeah, I'm glad I was there."

  Kazou didn’t know what to say. His gaze dropped back to Hannah, her face pressed against his chest, lips parted in sleep. He smoothed a strand of hair from her forehead with his thumb.

  Slowly, almost reluctantly, his voice broke the quiet. “Who are you?”

  The woman didn’t answer right away. She let out a long, tired sigh, as though she’d been waiting for him to ask all along. Turning to face him fully, she held his gaze.

  Her hand rose to her face. For a moment, Kazou thought she might look away. Instead, with the back of her wrist, she rubbed across her cheek. The smudge of makeup came away faintly on her skin. She dragged her palm down again, harder this time, wiping away the veneer of painted beauty—the powder, the faint red on her lips, the mask she’d been wearing since the moment he’d seen her.

  And beneath it, something emerged.

  The face was familiar. Startlingly familiar.

  Kazou’s breath caught in his throat. His whole body stiffened.

  “…Natalie.”

  Her eyes softened, just slightly, at the sound of her name. But she didn’t smile.

  The river stretched on endlessly beside them, black and indifferent, carrying them forward into the unknown.

  "Hi, Dr. Kazou Kuroda... Or should I say, father! It's me! Experiment 0.0.9! One of the clone children!"