It was market day, the last day of the week, Yupochalsp. Stalls and tables crowded every corner of Elros's market square.

  Vernisha’s “father,” Caren, stretched his back with a groan. “It’s getting dark.”

  “Right… let’s start packing up.”

  “Yup,” he replied, still stretching. He let out another pained groan.

  “You should have Marvin check your back. It’s getting worse,” Vernisha said as she helped him load the leftover produce into two massive bags so they could fold up the plastic table.

  Last year, he’d gotten into a fight with a neighbor, Bahmos. It was over a disgusting comment the man made about Natasha, Caren’s wife. That scuffle had left Caren with a back injury.

  She had expected him to use that fat man's strength to teach Bahmos a lesson, not get humiliated.

  “When he gets a better reputation, I’ll think about it,” Caren muttered.

  Hmm.

  He had a point. Marvin’s reputation was practically in the gutter. He was a frail, toothless old physician who gambled away his wife’s money, and worse, he used to be abusive. It had taken getting stabbed by his wife’s brother for him to finally stop hitting her.

  Once they finished packing, Caren hefted the two heavy bags of unsold goods while Vernisha carried the folded table.

  They left the small town, just four hundred and fifty houses in total, and began the long walk home.

  She hated the idea of walking for so long. But atleast the star, Silo was setting, casting long shadows.

  Caren shifted the bags on his shoulders with a grunt. “Feels like there are more of them every time.”

  Vernisha glanced at him. “More of who?”

  He nodded toward the road ahead, where a group of adventurers, vlandos, was making their way toward Elros. They were 'humans' with access to the System, towering at 6’8 and absurdly beautiful.

  She was a vlandos too, but lacked the physical qualities of one. She was only twelve.

  “Adventurers,” Caren muttered. “Why are there so many of them lately?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe the Guild has been sending them out more.”

  Caren scoffed. “For what? We’re far from Sundawn.”

  “Who knows? Maybe something’s going on…”

  A green-skinned man with braided hair passed them, a Punchio.

  Vernisha recognized him and raised a hand. “Hey.”

  He gave her a small nod, barely acknowledging her, before continuing down the road.

  The last time she’d seen him, he’d been with Jim, a human, and a Julioes woman with pink, gum-like skin and a cascade of fluffy white hair.

  Caren’s head snapped toward her. “Don’t look at those people.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “Because vlandos are evil.”

  Vernisha blinked. “What?”

  “You heard me,” he said firmly.

  She huffed. “That’s stupid. He didn’t even—”

  “Enough, Vernisha.”

  “No. I talk to a bunch of them whenever we’re at the Elros market selling stuff. Why would I stop now?”

  “Vernisha, what’s your deal? Why don’t you get that you should stay the hell away from them?” His voice trembled with barely contained anger.

  “I don’t see why I should. I’ve met nice vlandos. The ones I talk to aren’t bad.”

  “This bullshit again,” he muttered as he stopped to adjust his bags. “Are you human or not?”

  The question struck her as absurd. “What kind of stupid-ass question is that?”

  “Language. Answer the question.”

  The fact that she even had to lie irritated her. Why did she have to be ashamed of herself?

  “Human, obviously,” she said.

  “Exactly. We’re humans. We don’t interact with vlandos. We have nothing to do with them.”

  “But—”

  Caren grunted and reached for his back as pain flared again. “Forget all that propaganda your mother tells you about vlandos,” he said.

  “Those notebooks I have? A vlandos gave them to me.”

  His face stiffened. “What…?”

  “Miss Apala said I’m smart and should go to school, so she gave me those books.”

  “And you kept that a secret from me…”

  “I didn’t want you to burn them,” Vernisha said. “Anyway, the point is, they’re not all bad. Besides, what if one of your children became a vlandos? You’d just drive them away.”

  “I don’t want to think about that.”

  “But what if Ulah did awaken the System?”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  His glare unsettled her. “I’d hope it’s a bluff. That’s my only son. I wouldn’t want him to be… that.”

  “But you could just raise him to be good.”

  “A good vlandos is one who stays the hell away from society, or better yet, is dead.”

  “You’re being absurd.”

  He sighed. “Vernisha, this world is filled with people who look like you, think like you, and talk like you, but secretly wish for your extinction. In the blink of an eye, they could punch a hole through your head. You could be chatting with someone, falling in love, and maybe, just maybe, you hurt their feelings a little. And the next day, against your own will, you could ‘willingly’ pick up a knife and slit your own throat.”

  She had heard stories like that before. Too many.

  “I had a brother who was a vlandos,” he said suddenly. “Bet you didn’t know that.”

  “Did your parents kill him?” Vernisha asked, her voice flat.

  “No. They couldn’t bring themselves to kill their own child, so the village did it for them. It was a hard choice, but necessary to protect everyone.”

  …

  “Don’t you think that’s insane?”

  “It is. But sometimes you have to make ‘insane’ decisions.”

  She didn’t respond. There was nothing she could say.

  If he ever finds out about me…

  She glanced at her bandaged palm.

  Caren must have noticed her expression, because he tried to lighten the mood. “What do you want for dinner?”

  She frowned. “We can afford dinner? Damn, we must be rich.”

  “Well… your mother caught a lot of fish last night…”

  “Didn’t she sell all of them? She and Palia were talking about taking them to Portrum.”

  Portrum was east of here, far from any water. Fish sold for a lot there.

  “She must’ve saved a couple.”

  Vernisha considered it, then shook her head. “I doubt it.”

  “Maybe we can go out and catch some.”

  “I’m tired.”

  “That’s… fair.”

  And they walked on.

  No matter how hard Vernisha tried to brush off his words, they lingered.

  Night fell, but they were used to traveling in the dark. Despite that, they had to stop multiple times because of Caren’s back pain.

  He sat down, taking deep breaths, while Vernisha wandered off.

  “Don’t go too far,” he muttered.

  “Yup, yup,” she replied, then proceeded to do the opposite.

  Atop a small hill stood a Balash temple. Natasha always told her never to enter one, but Vernisha had always been curious.

  Besides, she’d heard they gave food to kids and the poor.

  And I want food.

  The leftovers in their bags were little more than fruit. That’s not doing shit for my hunger.

  She reached for her sheath, pulled out her dagger, and gripped the handle between her teeth.

  [+4% Strength]

  Vernisha had gotten this from an adventurer by begging like crazy, the same Punchio she’d seen earlier. He’d probably handed it over just to stop her crying.

  She glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then crouched and leapt, grabbing onto the stones jutting out of the hill.

  She climbed fast, hopping from stone to stone like an amateur rock climber.

  By the time she reached the top, she was out of breath, her arms trembling from the effort. It had taken more out of her than she wanted to admit.

  Wiping sweat from her face, she watched a group of people in long white robes enter the massive golden temple. She waited until everyone was inside before moving.

  She sneaked up and pressed her back against the wall, keeping a safe distance from the nearest glass window.

  “Little boy, do you know why Balash is important to us?”

  Vernisha tuned them out. She didn’t care about sermons. She cared about food.

  If Caren weren’t so anti-vlandos, they’d be stuffing their stomachs right now. Natasha hated the temple and Balash, so she never brought Vernisha here.

  She kept listening, waiting for food to be handed out, but it never happened. Instead, she heard Caren shouting her name.

  He didn’t sound worried. She used to run off often, especially when frustration boiled over, when the reality of living as a peasant in another world felt suffocating.

  She didn’t hate peasants, but she only tolerated this life because she had no alternative. Digging holes just to relieve herself, surviving on one meal a day, it had been hell to adapt to. Thinking about future problems, like her period starting in conditions like this, made her stomach twist, so she pushed the thought away.

  It was probably for the best that only the wealthy could afford guns. A younger, more desperate version of her might not have trusted herself with one.

  She noticed a temple worker setting down a basket of hot bread rolls on an outside table.

  Natasha had told her not to enter the temple, but she’d never said Vernisha couldn’t take food from them. Technically, that wasn’t disobedience. Still, the logic felt flimsy even to her.

  Sorry, Natasha. She was starving, and there was barely any food at home.

  She stood and tiptoed toward the entrance, pressing herself against the wall like a thief.

  The warm scent of freshly baked bread made its way to her.

  Saliva pooled in her mouth. Three would be enough, one for today, one for tomorrow, and one to share. But Ulah would need one. Natasha too. Maybe Caren.

  That means I need more.

  A flicker of guilt surfaced when she thought of other hungry people, but she kicked it away. Hesitation wasn't going to fill her stomach.

  She bolted for the table. As soon as she reached it, she grabbed as many rolls as she could, stuffing them into her shirt. Five. That was her limit. Then she turned and ran.

  She made it halfway back before her foot caught on something, and she fell headfirst into a rock.

  It felt like her skull had been cracked open, and the urge to scream was almsot unbareable. But the fear of getting caught was stronger.

  She kept her mouth shut, scrambled up, and checked her shirt. The bread rolls were still there.

  At the edge of the cliff where she’d climbed up, she hesitated. Climbing down one-handed would be rough.

  She glanced around to catch any onlookers. There was no one, so she activated her healing power.

  A red glow flared over her hand. The healing energy flickered, refusing to fully obey her. She’d never had the time to properly train it.

  She pressed her palm to her forehead. After a couple of minutes, the pain faded completely.

  Then she started her descent, nearly slipping six times.

  When she got down, Caren complained, but she shoved a bread roll in his face and told him she’d sold her dagger to a merchant for it. That shut him up.

  When they entered their village, they exchanged good nights with a few villagers before reaching home. A small, weak, shaky excuse for a house. One strong sneeze could probably take it down.

  She found herself silently hoping for a good harvest so they could stop being this poor. A darker, less charitable part of her sometimes wished the competition would thin out so they wouldn’t have to keep lowering prices.

  She had tried sabotaging a few farmers’ carriages before, only the rich ones, she told herself. She stopped after learning one of their fathers used to traffic children to the Holvious Queendom. Anxiety had haunted her for weeks.

  If she’d had access to real alcohol like back on Earth, she might have tried to drown that fear in it.

  Caren opened the door. Inside, candlelight flickered while Ulah scratched his pencil across one of Vernisha’s notebooks.

  Vernisha forced herself to stay calm. Paper like that cost a fortune here.

  “Where’s Mom?” she asked.

  Caren rubbed his chin. “She left you here by yourself?”

  “Nah, Mom fell asleep over there,” he said, pointing to Natasha sprawled on the floor.

  Natasha must’ve been exhausted. She hadn’t even changed out of her stained blue shirt, sleeves torn from razor fish tails.

  Ulah’s eyes locked onto the bread rolls peeking out of Vernisha’s shirt. She tossed one to him, and he caught it with his oil-burned hand.

  “Thanks,” he muttered.

  She looked at what he was writing. Another song.

  “Planning to get rich with that one?” she asked.

  “Yeah, and buy us a huge house,” he said.

  “How big?”

  He stretched his arms wide. “Bigger than the sea!”

  “Damn. That’s pretty big.” She smiled.

  She placed a bread roll in Natasha’s sleeping hand, leaving herself with two.

  Biting into one, she headed to her so-called room, a cramped space with blankets on the ground instead of a bed. She flopped down and stretched out.

  She had technically obeyed Natasha. She hadn’t stepped inside the temple. Standing near the entrance didn’t count.

  Probably.

  She took another bite. The bread was warm and chewy, but the texture was wrong, almost like meat, yet tasting like nothing at all.

  It didn't take long for Vernisha to fall asleep. Her grip loosened, and the bread roll fell onto the blanket, rolled to a stop, then slowly rolled back toward her hand.

  She didn’t see it squirm. She didn’t notice its surface shifting and writhing like a mass of maggots moving together.