Beneath the Surface

Chapter 4: Riven's Past

A year earlier...
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"Hey! Catch that thief, he stole my wallet!" a gruff man shouted. A swift shadow darted through the crowd, shoving people aside without a word of apology. Curses and yells followed in its wake. The gruff man, unable to keep up, watched helplessly as the thief disappeared into the distance.

Panting heavily, he cursed. "Such bad luck! That damn sewer rat!" He spat out his frustration just as a patrol guard rushed over.

"Sir, is something wrong?" the guard asked, concern etched on his face.

"Where the hell were you?! That little bastard stole my wallet! I thought this was one of the most secure, crime-free places! What just happened, huh?" The man's anger flared as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Sir, I apologize. Please rest assured, we will do our best to catch the thief and recover your wallet," the guard assured him.

"You better! I have loads of money in that wallet. If you don't find it and return it, I'll sue you for negligence!" the man threatened before storming off.

The young guard grimaced, his large nose scrunching up in annoyance. "What's with that face? Looks like you just ate something foul!" another guard laughed, slapping his friend's back.

"Another tourist's wallet got stolen. It must be that same thief who struck a few days ago," the big-nosed officer replied, adjusting his blue patrol shirt.

His friend frowned. "These days, people from the outer district keep sneaking into the city. I don't know how they manage to get past our guards. We need to stay more vigilant, or the chief will have our heads!" He shivered at the thought.

"Why don't those filthy vermin just die out there?!" he shouted angrily.

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"*Tsk* Only a few cents and a hundred crowns. This will barely last me four days if I save up and eat sparingly," Riven muttered, tossing the empty wallet aside.

"I thought he was loaded when I heard him bragging about buying a house. Turns out, he was just full of crap," he sneered coldly as he made his way back to the slums.

This was the only life he had known for the past fifteen years. A place where the unwanted were discarded, where those deemed unfit for higher society, covered in poverty and grime, were forced to live. A place at the bottom of the social hierarchy, where even the animals within the city walls were treated better.

Riven was one of those people. Born without knowing his father, losing his mother at childbirth, and having no siblings, he was utterly alone. Nobody cared if he was hurt or starved. Nobody would care if he died in some gutter. He was simply nothing. But still, he wanted to live. He wanted to survive. Even if it was just for one more day, he wanted to see the dawn and the dusk. So he stole. He stole to survive, no matter how much it was frowned upon. Yes, he desperately wanted to live.

He walked aimlessly through the streets. He had no home. Even in the slums, having a house was a luxury. The lucky ones had a rundown, one-room living space where the kitchen, sink, and living room were all crammed into one tiny area. Most had to run outside to relieve themselves, which was why the outer district reeked. The extremely lucky ones had small toilets, but they were a rare luxury.

He would sometimes trade a bit of food with those who had a home in exchange for a night’s shelter. Other times, he slept on the streets. He was as filthy as anyone else in the slums, no different from the rest. His hair was matted with dust and grease, and his face was nearly indistinguishable beneath the layers of grime. He smelled foul, and his clothes were nothing but rags.