Glass Heart Syndrome

Chapter 9

The town loomed ahead as Eren and the others returned under the cover of twilight, the remnants of the ambush hanging in the tense silence among them. Eren's steps felt heavier, his mind still replaying the quick, brutal moments of the fight. The smell of blood lingered on his hands, impossible to ignore, like a brand searing into his skin.

When they reached the edge of town, the group dispersed without a word. Eren watched them go, their faces shadowed and unreadable as they melted into the alleys and doorways, each one disappearing into the night with practiced ease. He hesitated, his mind racing. He hadn't earned a place with them yet—not truly. But something had shifted, a thread of recognition binding him to them in ways he hadn't expected.

Eren turned, heading back toward the small room he'd taken up in a dingy inn at the outskirts. The narrow streets were nearly empty at this hour, the shops closed, the market stalls abandoned, their goods long since packed away. Only a few stray lamps lit his path, their light dim and flickering in the mist that clung to the ground.

He reached the inn, slipping inside and climbing the creaking stairs to his room. Once inside, he closed the door behind him, his shoulders slumping as he leaned against it. The silence closed in around him, and he felt an ache deep in his chest, an emptiness that seemed to grow with each breath.

He moved to the small basin in the corner, splashing water over his hands, watching as the faint traces of blood swirled down the drain. The cold water stung, grounding him, and he let out a slow breath, forcing himself to steady.

As he dried his hands, he caught his reflection in the cracked mirror above the basin. His face was shadowed, the lines around his eyes more pronounced, his gaze sharper, colder than it had ever been. He hardly recognized himself, and the thought sent a shiver through him.

He turned away, moving to the small cot in the corner and sinking down onto it, his mind drifting as exhaustion finally took hold. But even as he closed his eyes, sleep remained elusive, his thoughts tangled in memories he'd long tried to bury.

Memories of Earth crept in—of laughter, of warmth, of friends and family who had never known this world, never seen the darkness he now faced daily. He remembered the person he had been, a part of him still yearning for the innocence he'd lost, even as another part of him rejected it, knowing it had no place here.

The knock at his door shattered the quiet, snapping him back to the present. He tensed, his hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at his side as he rose, crossing the room with cautious steps. He opened the door a crack, his gaze sharpening as he took in the figure standing in the dim hallway.

It was the woman from the ambush, her face obscured by the hood she wore, her expression unreadable. She nodded once, her gaze steady as she looked at him. "We need to talk."

Eren stepped back, allowing her inside, closing the door behind her. She moved to the center of the room, her posture calm but her eyes holding an edge of intensity that made him uneasy.

"You handled yourself well today," she began, her voice low and measured. "But that was only the first step. If you want to keep surviving here, you'll need to prove your loyalty."

Eren's jaw tightened, his gaze unwavering. "I did what was asked of me. Isn't that enough?"

She tilted her head, a faint smile playing at her lips, though it held no warmth. "Actions speak louder than words, but trust isn't built overnight. Loyalty isn't something you can buy; it's something you earn, and right now, you're still an outsider."

He clenched his fists, her words biting deeper than he cared to admit. "And what do I have to do to earn it?"

She studied him for a long moment, her gaze appraising. "There's someone you need to find—a man named Rhyen. He's been causing trouble for us, stirring up rumors and putting our operations at risk. He's slippery, hard to track, but we believe he's hiding somewhere in the old part of town."

Eren nodded slowly, his mind already working. "And what do you need me to do?"

"Simple." Her voice dropped, her gaze darkening. "Bring him to me. Alive, if possible. Dead, if necessary."

Eren felt a pang of unease, but he kept his expression neutral. "And if he resists?"

Her smile returned, colder than before. "Then you make an example of him. Show him, and anyone else watching, what happens when they cross us."

She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "This is your chance to prove yourself, Eren. Don't waste it."

With that, she turned and slipped out of the room, leaving him alone once more. Eren stared at the closed door, her words echoing in his mind. This was his test—a chance to solidify his place among them, to earn the trust he desperately needed if he was to survive in this world.

But as he sat on the edge of his cot, the weight of her words settled over him like a shroud. He would have to hunt down a man he knew nothing about, a stranger whose only crime was crossing the wrong people. He'd done things tonight he hadn't thought himself capable of, yet this felt different, the stakes somehow higher, the cost more personal.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of his choices pressing down on him. He'd crossed a line tonight, and now he faced another. There was no going back, no place for second thoughts or hesitation.

As he lay back on the cot, his mind spinning with the day's events, he knew that this was only the beginning. The darkness was closing in, and if he was to survive, he'd have to embrace it fully, to let it consume him, until there was nothing left but the ruthless, calculating shell he was slowly becoming.

And yet, deep down, he couldn't shake the small, stubborn part of him that resisted, clinging to the fragments of the person he once was—a person who would have balked at the thought of hunting down a man simply for existing.

But that person was gone, lost to the world he'd left behind.

Or so he told himself as sleep finally claimed him.