Lili was light.

  Reis realized it the moment he stepped through the station gate.

  A child was not supposed to be this light—but the thought did not reach its end.

  Nerida dropped the plate in her hands when she saw the small body hanging limp in Reis’s blood-soaked arms. She had been standing there with the hope of seeing her child one last time—only to be faced with her daughter’s lifeless body.

  Her knees began to tremble.It felt as if the weight of the entire world had collapsed onto her at once.She sank to the concrete floor.

  As Reis placed Lili into Nerida’s still-warm arms, Luk staggered behind them, barely upright, dragging himself forward by holding onto the wall.

  For the first time, Luk was left alone with the scent of a meal cooked by a mother for her child—cutting through the damp stench of the tunnels—and with the full weight of his own failure.

  Under the cold, flickering fluorescent lights, Nerida slowly wrapped her trembling arms around Lili’s lifeless body.As if she were afraid of hurting her even more.

  Luk collapsed against the station wall.His eyes were fixed on the concrete beneath him—nailed in place.He wanted to look around, but his gaze refused to move even an inch.

  The corporal approaching from behind—Pyotr Andreyevich—froze when he saw Lili’s body in Nerida’s arms and the silence swallowing the room.His eyes shifted slowly to Luk, slumped against the wall.

  He cleared his throat at first, as if forcing the words out of himself.

  “No one forced you,” he said.“But look at what you did.Even if you wanted to—you can’t save anyone.”

  Nerida spoke without lifting her eyes from Lili’s body.Her voice was hollow, crushed beneath unbearable weight.

  “This isn’t Luk’s fault…If it weren’t for him, I would never have seen my daughter again.I wouldn’t have held her one last time.I wouldn’t have smelled her again.This isn’t his fault.”

  Silence returned.

  But Luk kept condemning himself.

  If he had been faster—if he hadn’t turned back—only he would have died.Lili would still be alive.

  None of this would have happened.Everyone would be standing here—alive.Whole.

  But Luk, as always, was the one left standing where people died.

  The smell of blood was always the same.It never changed.

  It was the same with his mother.The same with Lili.

  Reis turned toward Luk, drowning in silence at the foot of the wall.For a moment, he saw his younger self.He hesitated—remembering the man he once was, crushed beneath regret.

  He knelt beside Luk.

  “Come on, son,” he said softly.“Let’s take that mask off.”

  As his hand reached for the gas mask, Luk grabbed Reis’s wrist and slowly pushed it away.

  Reis knew exactly what state he was in.And he knew there was nothing he could say.

  Some things had to be faced alone.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  He slipped an arm under Luk’s and helped him up.This time, Luk didn’t resist.

  They staggered toward the washroom together.

  With every step, the weight inside Luk grew heavier—crushing him further.As Reis opened the door and guided him inside, he hesitated, resting a hand on Luk’s shoulder, as if about to speak.

  But he found no words.And pulled his hand back.

  Luk was afraid to look into the mirror.As if seeing his reflection would cause the massive pile of regret he had buried inside to collapse all at once.

  He couldn’t endure it anymore.

  Every time he allowed himself to grow attached to someone, he was forced to watch them die.

  He wasn’t afraid of caring anymore.He was afraid of witnessing the end.

  In this world, saving one person meant sacrificing another.

  And Luk no longer knew who he was supposed to sacrifice.

  His eyes slowly rose to the mirror.

  The man staring back at himwas no longer Luk.

  The man in the mirror closed his eyes.

  The fluorescent light continued to flicker overhead. The sound of water running from the sink blended with the deep hum of the station. Luk realized he was breathing—unmasked. The air filling his lungs was metallic, heavy, familiar. Footsteps echoed beyond the door. Whispers. No one spoke loudly, but the station was not truly silent either.

  A child had died.

  Underground, that was knowledge carved into the walls.

  Luk looked at the mirror again.

  The man was still there.And he had no intention of leaving.

  In the new world, families, friends, loved ones could not bury their dead in the ground. Like everything else, the world had taken that from them as well. There was no soil. No sky. Only narrow tunnels, rusted fans, and long ventilation shafts where smoke was forced to find somewhere to go. That was why the dead were burned. Quietly. Quickly. So that nothing remained.

  Luk went with Reis to the place where the dead were burned—where the air always smelled of ash and dampness.

  The area prepared for Lili was small and cold. The flames had not been lit yet. People stood around without looking at one another. No one knew what to say, because there was nothing left to say. Luk stood slightly apart from the crowd. He did not know where to put his hands.

  “If he hadn’t brought her here…”

  A voice echoed through the silent gathering, but the sentence was never finished. It didn’t need to be. The station already knew what had been meant. Whispers traveled through the tunnels, striking the walls and returning.

  No one looked directly at Luk. But everyone knew he was there.

  A child had died.And underground, dead children always left behind someone to blame.

  Lili’s body lay wrapped in small pieces of kindling, her stillness untouched. She wore a white dress. A lighter clicked. The branches caught fire, their crackling echoing through the station. The white fabric was slowly consumed by merciless red flames. As the fire swallowed her body, Luk watched with eyes that had turned from white to red—watching the child he had tried to save.

  He wanted to cry. A storm tore through him from the inside, but nothing came. He felt a weight settle against his arm. Reis spoke without taking his eyes off the darkened blades of the ventilation fans above.

  “To cry…”He paused.“Does it always require tears?”

  He exhaled.

  “Sometimes a man cries even while he’s smiling.”

  Less than an hour later, the small body was gone—nothing left but ash. The heavy smell of burnt flesh lingered in the air as people slowly drifted away, until only a handful remained.

  Nerida knelt down, holding the clay urn with both hands. She hesitated, then reached out and took a handful of ash. It was still warm—but she did not pull her hand back. As the ashes fell into the urn, her tears followed silently.

  The area where the urns were placed lay in the oldest section of the ventilation system. Narrow. Dim. Beneath shafts that constantly pulled air through the stone. Clay urns lined the shelves. Names were carved into them—some worn away, some unfinished.

  Nerida carried Lili’s urn with slow, careful steps. No one walked beside her. She paused as she placed it onto the shelf. Her fingers lingered on the clay surface for a moment longer, then withdrew.

  Luk realized he was looking at the one place he had avoided remembering.

  The urn stood beside his mother’s ashes.

  For a moment, the station disappeared. He remembered his mother in white clothes. Her smile. The way her hands ran through his hair. The quiet fear she carried while trying to protect him.

  The image of Nerida kneeling overlapped with another memory burned into Luk’s mind.

  Now he understood.

  What they had lived through was not the same.But the language of pain was.

  Luk had lost his mother.Nerida had lost her child.

  The pain of the past tangled with the fury of the present. A silent vow slipped from Luk’s lips:

  “So that I never lose anyone again.”