Chapter 58: Pyrrhic Victory, Part 2

Each tap against the sidewalk sent a nauseating throb throughout my whole body. Although I've got what I sought, and could still feel its weight lingering on my chest, the Underworld hasn't been kind to me.

I had to get home. I needed to rest. Everything I wanted was for this irrepressible anguish to stop. Those were the only thoughts that ran through my sleazy mind as I walked through a gap between two buildings. My eyelids pulled closer together with the image of the hard concrete below, but I resisted the urge to pass out. My home wasn't safe, but the 5th District was far worse.

Yanking myself somewhat awake, I forced myself to concentrate on my sordid vicinity. It was here that I first encountered Ethan... the guy who, with his dying breath, gave me the way to that hellhole.

As I passed, I was surprised to discover that nothing remained from what occurred before, or so I thought until my eyes landed directly on top of the bloody imprint trailing on the wall. That was the final plunge. My stomach constricted, delivering a sharp ache down my ribs as I continued to puke out gastric acid mixed with some of the booze I drank earlier.

It was not only unpleasant but also humiliating. Tears welled up in my eyes as I realized how pathetic I was. I'd loathe it if anyone saw me like this.

I struggled to straighten my back, irked by the lingering taste of vomit in the back of my throat. I ripped off the loose cloak dangling around my shoulders and wiped my mouth with it before tossing it into a trashcan. Everything of worth was either in my jacket or my jeans, anyways. And wearing a cloak was likely to draw some attention, which I'd rather avoid.

"Please," I begged, my foggy vision shifting from left to right as I dragged my feet forward, hoping to find a cab.

Even in my top condition, I'd prefer to avoid walking the distance between the 5th District and the 3rd, let alone in my current state. I simply wasn't up to the task.

Then I saw it; the sleek, circular vehicle that would take some of my misery away. There was only one issue. Someone was approaching it. He appeared to be attending an important meeting based on his clothes. Unlike usual, I approached him and inquired: "Can I—"

"You can't take my ride if that's what you were going to ask for," the man replied, his nose wrinkled as he saw me. "Just screw off."

Why does stuff like this always happens to me? I mused as I made up my mind.

In my current condition, I'm not going to take this lying down. I had other, more pressing issues to take care of. Playing along with someone as lofty as him wasn't something I was in the mood to do.

"What was—oh, h-hey," he yelped, taken aback by the way I brushed him aside and slipped into the cab. The man immediately began hammering on the window with his palm. "What are you doing?!"

After passing my card and confirming the transaction, I began searching for my neighborhood without sparing him a glance.

"Don't be an asshole! I can't possibly be late!" he shouted, clutching the handle. "Do you know how important the meeting I have to attend is?!"

Do you have any idea what I've been through? Don't make me laugh, I thought as I grabbed the handle of the half-opened door, closing it as the cab continued on its way toward my destination.

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With a loud thud, I slammed the door shut and marched into the living room, gritting my teeth through the constant pain caused by the pounding I received in the Underworld. I couldn't recall how I got to the front of the house; I must've been sleepwalking the entire time, and I doubted I had much longer before passing out.

I laid everything I had on the table, inspecting everything through my dizzy consciousness. My phone, wallet, keys, Ethan's badge, the artifact in its sheath—and the box of clarindaryl I've fought so hard to obtain. Despite this, I couldn't force myself to smile as another ache blasted my brain.

With a blink, I found myself kneeling in front of a large backpack thrown aside in the corner of the room.

"Not good," I murmured as I unzipped it, unsure of what was going on with me.

Completely out of it, I searched for the painkillers in the medical kit I carried around as a porter. I apologized to the other members of the party I worked with and took a few in my shaky hand, then chewed them down. They were bitter, as one would expect from any narcotic. I knew that taking medication on an empty stomach was not a smart idea, but whatever.

To get rid of the taste, I went over to the sink and gulped water like a wild animal, not even bothering to take a cup beforehand. Then I drew my shirt up and applied some ointment to the bluish, almost purple spots on my skin. I did the same for those on my hip before lying down on the sofa. Or attempted to.

As I sat down on the wrong side, the bruised one, a moan escaped my throat. Since I've been sleeping on that particular side for who knows how long, laying that way became second nature to me. I'm not going to repeat that habit from now, I told myself as I leaned on the other side.

I closed my eyes, but despite the tiredness that had accumulated up to this point, I couldn't sleep.

"Don't tell me that I have insomnia as well on top of everything else..."

That would be ridiculous. Sleeping was my only way out. A moment of peace in this messed up life of mine. The inability to sleep would be worse than any horror I could conjure up.

No, I'm going to fall asleep soon enough, I persuaded myself. It's just—

"Too hot," I growled as I tore the jacket off my body.

I inhaled deeply, then exhaled as I closed my eyes, trying to cool myself and decrease my heartbeat.

The blackness I was used to seeing was replaced by an image. That of myself, shivering as I curled into a ball, cradling my head to repel some of my assailant's strikes.

From then on, even sleeping became a hazard for me.

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