.For a while… nothing happened.
No footsteps.
No voices.
No one is calling out to him.
Just the sound of water moving slowly nearby and the soft wind brushing through the trees.
The boy lay on his back, staring at the sky.
"…This is nice," he said quietly.
It really was.
Too nice.
He sat up after a few minutes.
His clothes were still wet from the river. His arms hurt from the fall. His back felt like someone had stepped on it a few times.
He stretched.
"…I don't like falling," he decided.
Pause.
"…Running is better."
His stomach growled again.
Loud.
Very loud.
He looked down at it with a tired expression.
"You never stop, do you?"
It answered with another growl.
"…Fine."
He stood up and looked around.
The area was different from before.
More trees. Thicker. Harder to see through. The ground was softer too, covered in leaves instead of stone.
Better for hiding.
Worse for moving fast.
He didn't like that.
He started walking.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Every step felt strange.
He wasn't used to this.
Running meant control.
Walking meant waiting.
And he didn't like waiting.
After a while, he found a small path.
Not natural.
Someone had used it.
Recently.
He stopped.
Looked at it.
Then looked around.
No sound.
No movement.
"…Food," he said.
That decided it.
He followed the path.
Not running this time.
Just moving quietly.
After a few minutes, he saw a small house.
Wooden.
Old.
Not broken, but not well-kept either.
Smoke came out of the chimney.
Someone was inside.
He stood there, thinking.
Last time he trusted people, they tried to kill him.
Before that… they also tried to kill him.
Before that… same.
"…Bad pattern," he muttered.
He took a step forward anyway.
Slow.
Careful.
The door opened before he could knock.
An old man stood there.
Thin. Calm. No weapon.
Just looking at him.
"You've been standing there for a while," the old man said.
The boy blinked.
"…You noticed?"
The man gave a small smile.
"You're not very good at hiding."
That was new.
No one had said that before.
The boy didn't know how to respond.
"…Are you going to attack me?" he asked directly.
The old man paused.
Then laughed.
"Not today."
The boy relaxed a little.
Not fully.
Just a little.
"Hungry?" the old man asked.
The boy nodded.
Inside, the house was simple.
Table. Fire. Some food.
Nothing special.
But it felt… quiet.
The boy ate.
Slower this time.
Watching.
Waiting.
The old man sat across from him.
"Running won't solve everything," he said.
The boy froze.
"…What?"
"You run a lot," the old man continued. "I can tell."
The boy didn't answer.
Something felt wrong again.
"…How?" he asked.
The old man pointed at his legs.
"They don't stop moving. Even when you sit."
The boy looked down.
His legs were lightly shaking.
He hadn't noticed.
"…That's normal," he said.
The old man smiled.
"No. It isn't."
Silence filled the room.
The boy slowly stood up.
"…I should go."
"Already?" the old man asked.
The boy nodded.
"Yes."
He walked to the door.
Hand on it.
Ready to leave.
Then the old man spoke again.
"You won't be able to keep running forever."
The boy stopped.
Didn't turn.
"…Why not?"
The old man's voice was calm.
"Because sooner or later…"
Pause.
"…something faster will come."
The boy stepped outside.
Closed the door.
He stood there for a moment.
Thinking.
Then he shook his head.
"…That's stupid."
And started running again.
Behind him, inside the house, the old man looked out the window.
Watching him disappear.
"…Let's see how long you last," he whispered.
Far away—
A faint glow returned.
The boy didn't see it.
But something had found him again.
End of Chapter 13