Adrian woke to the sound of something clattering in the kitchen.

  He sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The room was still dim, lit only by the pale gray light leaking through the window.

  Alex was hunched over the stove, stirring something in a dented pot.

  “Morning,” he said without looking up. “Figured you could use a hot meal.”

  Breakfast was a soup. Well past the expiration date. But in times like these, it might as well have been gourmet.

  After breakfast, Adrian was slipping on his jacket when Alex called out, “Wait a minute.”

  A few minutes passed before Alex returned from his bedroom, carrying a black backpack. It was worn and scratched, but still sturdy enough.

  Alex dropped it on the table.

  “Take it.”

  Adrian frowned. “What’s this?”

  “Maps. Gear. Don’t get sentimental about it. Just use it.”

  Adrian unzipped the bag, staring at the contents. “You’re serious about this.”

  “I don’t hand out survival kits as party favors. If the boss calls you in, you’d better know those routes better than you know your own name. One mistake down there and you’re done.”

  “If… if the boss calls?”

  Then, just before Adrian stepped out, Alex slipped a small envelope into his hand and quietly shut the door behind him.

  Caught off guard, Adrian stared at the closed door for a moment, trying to process what had just happened.

  “Damn it, Alex…” he blurted out.

  But there was no answer. Adrian carefully opened the envelope and found money inside.

  Adrian counted the bills slowly, heart thumping. His hands shook. A cold draft from the cracked window brushed his neck. One… two… three… four… five. A hundred dinars.

  “Damn it…” he muttered, pressing the money against his chest. It felt impossibly heavy, warm in a way the slums never were.

  This was more than he made in two weeks when he was working for Uncle Ben. That thought brought back a memory of sawdust and the smell of wood. He used to work in his woodworking shop. But it all came to an end when Ben missed a bribe.

  He shook the thought away easily; the money in his hands was keeping his mind occupied. The amount shook him. He almost found himself knocking on the door again, but then he stopped. Alex wasn’t going to open up.

  A hundred dinars. Enough to eat for weeks if stretched long enough. Enough to not feel the gnawing in his stomach for a while. Enough to almost feel human again.

  He stared down at the bills in his hand, a rare, genuine smile creeping across his face. Quietly, he slipped the money back into the envelope and tucked it into his pocket, his hand remaining there. He was not taking any chances.

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  He stared at the door for a bit. "I owe you again, I guess," he said a bit louder.

  The walk back to his apartment was terrifying. He never walked with so much money in the slums. He was trying his best to look normal, but it even hurt his face. But he could get used to this. It felt nice, all things considered.

  A cat darted across the street, and he startled, hunching his shoulders. He adjusted his grip on the envelope, checking the bulge through his coat, imagining what might happen if someone noticed it.

  "A hundred dinars in my pocket makes me afraid of cats now," he muttered with a chuckle.

  He passed the street vendor he sometimes visited, the one who always had the strongest, cheapest coffee. The rich, bitter smell hit him, and for a moment, the world felt a little less dangerous. He glanced at the small cup steaming in the vendor’s hands. Maybe I should grab one…, he thought.

  The thought made him smirk despite the tension. He had enough cash now that a small luxury like this wasn’t impossible. But he shook his head and kept walking.

  By the time he reached his apartment door, his shoulders were tense, palms damp. He slid the key in carefully, peered over his shoulder, and let himself inside. The envelope was safe, still pressed against his side, and he allowed himself a quiet exhale.

  Upon arriving home, he emptied the contents of the bag onto the table. Inside, there was a rope, maps, a sharp knife, a flashlight with several spare batteries, dry food, and a few other essential items. They showed signs of wear but still worked fine.

  In a separate compartment, he found three cans of food accompanied by a small note that read, "Enjoy the meal."

  Adrian just stared at the note for a full minute. He did expect to get some help from Alex, even without asking. He knew Alex felt like he owed him a debt from the past, but still... This was too much.

  He just hoped he could get the job and be able to repay him. It has been too long since he had hope for the future. He just hoped it worked out well. He was desperate. Really desperate. He needed to escape the life in the slums. Get a normal and secure life again. And have a place if... He shook his head; there was no reason to think of the worst option.

  He spent the rest of the day studying the maps, memorizing every twist and turn. Too many passages, too many lefts, too many rights, it felt like his head might split open. One wrong step, and he would be lost.

  A detailed legend accompanied the maps, explaining the dozens of markings scattered across them. There was a mark for patrols, traps, dead ends, unexplored tunnels... too many of them.

  There were a few marked safe zones, but he wasn't sure what that meant, so he made a note to ask Alex about it.

  Two days passed. He didn’t leave the apartment, barely slept, barely ate, just kept studying the maps.

  After the first day passed without a word from Alex, a knot of worry tightened in his chest. But he threw himself into studying the maps, knowing dwelling on darker thoughts wouldn’t help. He trusted Alex would either get him the job or at least try his best. All he had to do was focus and do what was asked of him.

  He still had one can left from the food Alex had given him. He rationed it carefully, one a day. He had enough money to buy more food now, but he wasn’t ready to spend it just yet.

  Time dragged. Adrian’s eyes burned.

  His stomach grumbled faintly, but he pushed the hunger aside, focusing on the worn maps spread before him like a puzzle he had to solve. The weight of the money in his pocket was a strange comfort. Hope wrapped in paper, fragile, but it was real. He glanced toward the door, half expecting Alex to step inside.

  It had been four days since he last heard from Alex. Just now, he finished the last scraps of food he had left, carefully rationing that final can to stretch over two days.

  He was confident he knew the maps inside and out, yet he kept replaying the routes in his mind, cross-checking every twist and turn on the paper to make sure he hadn’t missed a single path.

  He stumbled over a few details now and then, but each mistake only sharpened his focus. He thought that after going through the route a few times, he would be able to go through it with his eyes closed.

  He didn’t really believe that, but holding onto that thought gave him a flicker of hope for the future.

  Hope was dangerous. It made you think you had something to lose.

  He was pulled from his thoughts by a sudden, sharp knock at the door.

  His heart started pounding. This was the moment that would decide whether his future would change for the better.

  He felt nervous. He was sure it was Alex, but what news would he bring? Will he get a chance, or will he end up starving again?

  He got up slowly and headed for the door.

  His hand froze on the handle. He took a deep breath, swallowed his doubt, and slowly pushed the door open.

  Whatever came next, there was no turning back now.