Halen followed Rose through the twisting back alleys, boots splashing in shallow puddles that mirrored the jittering gas lamps overhead. The city was coming apart at the seams faster than he could process. A woman leaned from a second-floor balcony, clutching her throat as thin black steam seeped from between her fingers like smoke from a dying fire. She coughed violently, then slumped forward, body jerking as brass-like veins crawled up her neck. Below, a horse-drawn cart careened sideways; the driver convulsed on the reins, eyes glowing dull red. The horse reared and bolted into the fog.
Halen's hand dropped to his sword hilt. His voice cracked, raw with something close to desperation. "We can't just walk past them. Those are people. Families. Children. I can hear them screaming, Rose. I can still hear them."
Rose didn't slow, but her shoulders stiffened. "And if you stop for every scream, you become one of the infected. You think your pity will save them? It will only kill you faster. And then who remembers their names?"
They ducked under a low archway and slipped into the modest teahouse. The faded sign read "Jade Steam Pavilion" in peeling gold. Inside, the air was thick with oolong and coal smoke. Dim lanterns cast warm light over low tables. A handful of patrons remained: an old merchant nursing a chipped cup, two young clerks whispering over a newspaper, a lone woman in gray robes staring into her empty bowl.
Rose chose a shadowed booth near the back exit. Halen sat opposite, coat damp, scratched forearm throbbing. He leaned forward, voice low and trembling with barely contained fury.
"Stop dodging. You show up like you own the night, throw needles like you've practiced on corpses, and you carry immunity like it's nothing. Who are you really? The Ministry's shadow agent? Some sect's assassin? Or did you help unleash this hell and now you're cleaning up your own mess?"
Rose poured tea for both without asking. Steam curled upward. She met his eyes, calm but edged with something brittle.
"Freelance relic acquisition. I track forbidden shipments for clients who pay well and ask few questions. This crate slipped my net weeks ago. I've been watching Warehouse 17 ever since." She tapped her sleeve. "The vial? Leftovers from an experiment I didn't ask for when I was twelve. Partial immunity. It buys time. Not a cure. Not forever."
Halen's laugh was bitter, hollow, breaking at the edges. "Twelve? You were a child. And you survived… what? Being turned into one of these things? You expect me to believe that story without proof? Without anything?"
Rose's fingers tightened around her cup until the porcelain creaked. Her voice dropped to a whisper that carried more weight than any shout. "I don't expect belief. I expect you to stay alive long enough to see the truth yourself. I was in a lab. They called it 'progress.' They injected orphans with prototype essence. Most died screaming—begging for their mothers who were already dead. I didn't. I woke up with this—" She touched the faint red glow in her left eye, visible only up close. "—and nightmares that never leave. Every time I close my eyes, I hear them. The ones who didn't make it. Their screams are louder than any plague siren."
Halen stared at her. The anger in his chest twisted into something heavier, sharper—grief for strangers, grief for the girl she must have been. "So you knew. You knew what was in that crate, what it could do, and you let it sit there. You watched it leak into the city. How many people died tonight because you waited? How many children?"
Rose's gaze flickered—pain flashing across her face before she locked it down. "I didn't wait. I tried to stop it. Three nights ago I infiltrated the warehouse. The guards were already turning—red eyes, steam leaks. I killed two quietly. The rest turned before I reached the crate. By then the first wave had slipped into the sewers. Warning anyone would have caused mass panic. Panic spreads faster than plague. I chose to survive so someone could fight back."
Halen's voice cracked. "Fight back? You call this fighting? Standing in a teahouse while the city burns outside? You could have warned someone. You could have—"
A wet, rattling cough cut him off.
The old merchant doubled over. Teacup shattered. Black veins spiderwebbed across his neck. Steam hissed from his nostrils. The clerks froze. The woman in robes stood slowly.
Halen surged up. "Everyone back!"
The merchant's head snapped up—red eyes blazing. Mouth stretched wide. Scalding black steam erupted outward, scorching the table black.
Rose flicked her wrist—three poison qi needles spun. Two struck shoulders; the third buried in the throat. Green qi flared, slowing corruption. The merchant roared mechanically and charged the clerks.
Halen intercepted—palm to sternum, Piston Suppression. Orange qi burst pinned the man to the wall. Wood splintered. The infected thrashed.
"Hold him!" Rose barked.
She pressed the jade talisman to his forehead. Runes glowed blue. Steam vented violently.
The merchant's arm broke free. Brass fingers raked Halen's coat, tearing deep, drawing blood. Pain flared. Halen overclocked the bracer—heat roared through meridians. Dantian burned.
The merchant wrenched loose and lunged at Rose.
Halen tackled him. Tables shattered. Hot tea splashed. Halen rolled on top, knee to chest. Boiler core cracked. Black steam jetted upward, searing his cheek.
Rose drove a fourth needle into the dantian. Green poison detonated. The merchant arched—once, twice—then went still. Skin split, revealing ruined gears.
Silence fell.
The clerks stared in horror. The woman backed to the door.
Halen rose, blood dripping. His voice was quiet, shaking, almost broken. "You killed him. He was still… he was still begging with his eyes. For a second. You saw it. You saw him fighting it. And you ended him anyway."
Rose wiped the needle clean. Her hands trembled—barely noticeable, but Halen saw. Her voice came out hoarse. "I saw a corpse that hadn't stopped moving yet. Mercy would have let the virus jump to every soul in this room. Including yours. Including mine."
Halen stepped closer, tears burning behind his eyes. "And if it had been you? If you were the one turning, fighting it with everything you had—would you want someone to stab you in the heart before you could even say goodbye? Before you could remember one good thing?"
Rose looked away. Her breath hitched. When she spoke again, her voice cracked for the first time. "I've already been there. I know what it feels like to beg for death while your body betrays you. I know what it costs to survive anyway. Every day since that lab, I've asked myself if it was worth it. Some days I still don't have an answer."
Halen's chest tightened. "Then why do it? Why keep running if it only hurts more? If every life you take—even to save others—carves another piece out of you?"
Rose finally met his gaze. Tears shimmered in her eyes, but didn't fall. "Because someone has to stop it. If not me, then who? You? You're still clinging to rules and honor while the world burns. I stopped clinging a long time ago. But I haven't stopped caring. That's the part that hurts the most."
Halen's breath caught. He reached out—hesitated—then gently touched her arm. "I'm not like you. I can't just… shut it off."
Rose's smile was small, tired, heartbreaking. "You will. Or you'll die trying not to. And I don't want to watch that happen."
Outside, a steam tram horn blared. Metal screeched. Crash. Screams rose in waves.
Rose glanced at the door. "Surface is lost. We go underground. Old qi vein tunnels beneath the shrine district. They lead to the lab."
Halen looked at the dead merchant, then at the terrified patrons. A child's cry pierced the night—closer now.
"We can't abandon them," he said again, quieter, almost pleading.
Rose's expression hardened, but her voice softened—just a touch. "We can. And we will. Because if we stay, we become part of the plague. And then who stops Fang? Who stops the boiler king from turning the whole empire into his factory? Who remembers the people we couldn't save?"
Halen's jaw clenched. Tears finally slipped down his cheek. He wiped them away angrily.
Rose pushed open the back door. Fog rushed in.
They stepped into the darkness.
Behind them, lanterns flickered as screams joined the chorus.
The plague was flooding the streets.