Kill the Sun Chapter 5 - 5 – Young Man

Once the tax collectors departed, the marketplace returned to its usual rhythm.

For the majority, their previous dread had transformed into either a sense of relief or grim resignation.

It was a harsh reality that even though many had just been drained of two liters of blood, they lacked the luxury of returning home to recover.

Survival demanded they continue working to earn credits. Failure to do so meant they would simply face the blood tax again in another month.

Nick moved back to his accustomed spot, once again hoisting his sign into the air.

His faith in Albert remained unshaken; Nick was certain that Albert wouldn’t have instructed him to stand out so prominently without a valid reason.

Unfortunately, no person of importance approached him for a long while, and eventually, hunger forced him to head home.

Nick’s living situation had improved; he no longer resided in a cramped metal cube, but in a proper house—even if it was constructed from the same rusted metal.

A wealthier resident had recently passed away, leaving the property vacant.

However, "vacant" wasn't entirely accurate.

While the man was dead, he had an eleven-year-old son who was the rightful heir to the home.

Predictably, local gangs attempted to seize the property from the child, but Nick had intervened, standing between the boy and the thugs.

Nick acted as the boy’s protector and guardian of his inheritance, and in exchange, Nick used the family's funds for his own food and taxes.

With no other options, the child had readily agreed to the arrangement.

Following a few physical confrontations, the gangs concluded that the house wasn't worth the headache.

Had Nick been an ordinary person, they would have sent ten men to crush him, but Nick possessed an active Zephyx Synchronizer.

While no one had been killed or severely maimed yet, an escalation could turn deadly very quickly.

They were confident they could eventually take Nick down, but the cost was too high. The house was only slightly better than average, and since the boy had a legitimate claim, the gangs didn't want to appear too tyrannical.

The leaders of organized crime understood that it was far easier to manage a flock of content sheep than a terrified one.

This logic was exactly why the head of the Insurance Gang had covered the tax deficit himself.

It was clear some of his subordinates had embezzled the collected funds, and an internal purge would follow.

Had the leader simply abandoned the eight people short on cash, the Insurance Gang’s reputation for reliability would have crumbled, likely costing them 30% of their clientele by the following month.

The gang charged a 10% fee for protection and processing; essentially, an adult paid ten credits to ensure their 100-credit tax was safe.

With roughly 480 clients, they brought in 4,800 credits. Even after the leader paid 800 credits from his own pocket, a 4,000-credit profit remained.

Refusing to pay that 800 credits would have saved money today, but resulted in a monthly loss of 1,500 credits in future profits for a long time.

Even in the lawless Dregs, customer satisfaction remained a vital business metric for criminals.

Furthermore, starting a war over a house defended by someone protecting a helpless child was just bad optics.

It simply wasn't worth the effort.

Naturally, this situation was a double-edged sword.

While Nick had secured a comfortable home and financial stability, he had effectively burned every bridge for future employment with the local gangs.

For two weeks, Nick returned to the marketplace daily, standing tall with his sign.

On a day that seemed entirely ordinary, someone finally approached him.

The newcomer was a tall, young man with messy but remarkably clean light-brown hair. Though his brown shirt and trousers were tattered, they were also spotless.

Having spent his entire life in the Dregs, Nick realized instantly that this man was a fraud attempting to play the part of a pauper.

The stranger had likely never encountered a truly poor person before; otherwise, his costume wouldn't be so superficial.

The man neared Nick with a warm smile, though Nick detected a deep-seated nervousness beneath the facade.

"Hey, are you really a Zephyx Extractor?" the man inquired, eyeing the sign.

"I passed the entrance exam for Ghosty's Lab, but I haven't practiced because my Zephyx Synchronizer is already attuned," Nick replied, watching the stranger with suspicion.

A spark of interest lit up the man's eyes. "Your Zephyx Synchronizer is already attuned?"

Nick gave a short nod.

A silence followed.

The man appeared lost on how to continue, his expressive face making his internal struggle obvious to Nick.

It was clear to Nick that the guy was trying to figure out how to dig for more information without sounding like a common swindler.

"Do you know Albert?" Nick asked suddenly.

The man’s eyes widened for a split second before a strained smile appeared. "Albert is a very common name," he said awkwardly.

'Liar,' Nick thought. 'There’s only one Albert in this place.'

"Black and grey hair, capable of summoning hovering objects. Maybe you can provide the final detail to confirm we’re talking about the same man," Nick challenged, his expression wary.

The man blinked several times. "He has a certain fondness for tools," he eventually added.

Nick’s face lit up with a wide grin. "At last," he said, standing up and causing the stranger to flinch back. "Albert told me someone would arrive with work soon. I assume that's you?"

The stranger looked equally relieved, as if he too had been searching for someone specific.

Then, his face darkened with doubt.

"I know him, but I doubt I have the means to hire you. I'm just another resident of the Dregs," he said cautiously.

Nearby pedestrians stopped in their tracks, throwing incredulous stares at the man.

Noticing the attention, the stranger realized he had made a blunder.

"Look," Nick said, drawing the man’s attention back. "You just used the word 'capital.' Plus, your disguise is pathetic. No one believes you. If they did, they’d have already mugged you for being so visibly terrified and uncertain."

The man’s smile became even more pained. "I'm not quite sure—"

"Just follow me," Nick interrupted, grabbing the man’s arm to lead him away.

The stranger stared at Nick’s hand in shock, and for a fleeting moment, his eyes turned completely white.

He regained his composure almost instantly, his eyes returning to their natural color.

He clearly wasn't used to being handled so roughly by a stranger.

"Hey, I'm capable of walking on my own," the man protested, pulling his arm free.

"Then move," Nick said, nodding toward the path ahead.

The man produced a handkerchief, fastidiously wiped the spot Nick had touched, and followed.

A few minutes later, they stood before Nick's temporary residence.

The stranger hesitated momentarily, then took a deep breath and stepped inside.