In The Shadow of Asora

8. The Burgular

Jongho's afternoon consisted of work, as always. There wasn't much time he could spend at home or doing his own things when his jobs kept him busy at any given moment. As soon as one task finished, the next began, and it was an endless circle of business. Like moon and sun, Jongho shifted his gears between resting and working like it was the one thing that nature had decided for man to do.

It came to no surprise that Zey's inhabitants didn't have a long life expectancy by living with that schedule. Those who decided to get by instead of allowing the city to consume them knew they fought a lonely and futile battle. In the end, either disease or starvation awaited. No one was able to make their fortune with the little work they found, and few got to leave with the airships.

Jongho, too, only tried to scrape by. He considered himself lucky to have no little siblings that he had to look after besides his father. From what he made with his deliveries, at least the two could live and usually afford medicines.

Year for year, he fought hard and evaded the escape of retorting to crimes.

Crimes were not unheard of in Zey. They were the proclaimed main reason for the presence of Asora's automatons. Usually, these crimes either were an act of desperation or developed out of bitterness. In Zey, it was an unspoken law not to rob the others that were off just as bad, but the rich tourists or merchants.

Sometimes some people considered themselves to be off far worse than anybody else. Their selfishness deceived them into injustice towards their very own kind.

So when Jongho came home after a long day of work and found the door to their home leant against the frame rather than secured, he had his suspicions. He thumbed the broken hatch of the lock as he pushed the door open. Immediately, his gaze sought for his father.

In a reminder of a few days prior, his father knelt on the ground with his bony legs on display. They had not a single ounce of fat or muscle that clung to them. Jongho associated the sight with a skeleton that still wore its human skin but had shed itself of everything else.

By the looks of it, his father was fine. No injuries marred him, and the frown on his face justified a warranted reaction.

Jongho pushed the door shut behind him and set his duffle down in front of it to keep it closed. He wasn't afraid of intruders as long as he was here, but his father had little options to defend himself. At least, Jongho was confident in his skills to repair the damage until the night.

His father rose his blood-shot eyes at Jongho. Trouble was written across his features.

"What happened?" Jongho kept his voice low and calm, albeit wary. Some causality must have occurred for his father to look this bothered by it.

Sighing, Jongho's father lowered his eyes. His shoulders were hunched as if they carried the weight of the world on it. More than ever, he looked like an old and sick man.

"I'm sorry, son. I made a mistake."

With an instant headshake, Jongho sat down next to him. Helpless, he tried to think of a way to reassure his father.

"I'm sure I can fix it. Tell me what went wrong, please."

It took them another moment of kneeling on the cold, hard ground until his father spoke up. His trembling form pitifully sagged on the blank stone.

"A man came in. I was sleeping, so I heard him only after a while and didn't recognise that it wasn't you. He came to steal."

Relief flooded Jongho. A burglar was bad news, but since he had left Jongho's father alone, his most precious good was still around. Despite that, he listened to the rest of the whispered story.