"Kid… kid, wake up… YUEHAN, GET UP!"
Yuehan's eyes snapped open as a rough hand grabbed his shoulder. Mari's face hovered above him, pale and tight with panic.
Before Yuehan could say anything, Mari hissed, "Get up—quickly. Follow me."
Still half-asleep, Yuehan swung his legs off the bed and stumbled after him into the dark hallway. The wooden floorboards creaked softly beneath their feet.
"Mari, what's wrong?" Yuehan whispered. His voice barely carried over the sound of their hurried steps.
"Shh," Mari snapped, glancing over his shoulder. His eyes darted toward the window, where faint torchlight flickered from outside. "Just hide in here."
He yanked open a small wooden closet, motioning frantically for Yuehan to get inside.
"Wait—what's—"
Before Yuehan could finish, Mari pushed him into the cramped space and slammed the door shut.
The sound of the latch clicking echoed in the darkness.
Yuehan pressed his ear against the wood, his heartbeat pounding in his chest as muffled footsteps approached from somewhere beyond the hall.
A booming voice rattled the workshop: "OPEN UP, YOU DAMN BASTARD!" Heavy pounding followed—someone hammering at the door.
Mari swore and scrambled. "I'm coming, Hundan! DON'T BREAK MY DAMN DOOR!" he yelled as he shoved crates aside and frantically snatched up a few things to hide.
The door burst inward. A broad figure filled the frame—Hundan, face set in a hard line, boots planted like an executioner's. "Sorry, Mr. Hundan, I was asleep. I didn't have time to light candles," Mari blurted, voice shaking as he bowed his head and tried to look contrite.
Hundan shoved him aside. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood, or you'd already be dead," he said, his tone flat and dangerous as he swept through the room, rifling for anything of value. He moved with a predator's efficiency, turning over boxes, checking drawers.
"You know the deal. This is not enough—you know that, right?" Hundan's voice dropped to a cold whisper as he loomed over Mari, who had once earned his respect and now seemed nothing but an insect to be crushed.
Mari's eyes flared. "How could I forget?" he said, forcing a smile that trembled with fear. He reached for a candlestick and struck a flint; sparks ignited the wick. The tiny flame threw a brief orange light across his face—like embers in his eyes.
Hundan watched the motion, an unreadable expression on his face. "You're only delaying the inevitable," he said, and the words landed like a sentence.
Mari's face went white. In a sudden, ragged shout he screamed, "CULTIST!"
The word hit the room like a match thrown into tinder. Hundan reacted in an instant, drawing a blade with brutal speed. There was a single, brutal motion—Mari staggered, collapsed, and the world tilted. Hundan didn't wait; he backed toward the door and fled into the night.
In the aftermath, a small overturned lantern hissed against spilled oil. Flames licked at rags and paper, finding kindling with greedy, hungry speed. The shop, already worn, took to burning almost immediately—wood caught, smoke began to coil, and the sound of the fire grew loud and terrible.
From inside the cramped closet, Yuehan pressed his hands over his mouth to keep from making a sound. He could hear Mari hit the floor, a dull thud, a soft cry, then the booted steps of Hundan as they stamped away into the street. The faint crackle turned to a fierce roar as flames ate the shop's outer wall.
Yuehan's heart pounded. He fumbled at the closet latch, fingers slick, breath shallow—trapped between the fear outside the door and the heat beginning to press in. The smell of smoke threaded under the wood.
Somewhere beyond the crashing and the shouting, voices rose—shouts, running feet, the distant collapse of timbers. Yuehan swallowed