Chapitre 10: Chapter 10: Vow's
"Sir, is your accompanying partner going to arrive?" A woman in formal work attire, bearing the restaurant's emblem, the golden rose, stood patiently by the teenager's table. Her polite tone matched her polished appearance.
"Oh, sorry. I guess not at this point," the teenager replied with a soft chuckle coming out of his daze. His face turned a little red as he saw the beautiful waitress.
"Aren't you just a cute one," she teased, flashing a charming smile. Then, her expression shifted to one of professional seriousness. "However, we do have more guests waiting for tables. If your attending partner is absent, we must kindly ask you to vacate the table. We will, of course, refund her portion. I do apologize." She maintained a respectful smile throughout.
The teenager let out a heavy sigh. "Okay. Could you please box this to go?" He gestured to the untouched plate of food, likely meant for his missing partner.
"Right away, sir. And we do hope you'll dine at the Golden Rosery again," the waitress said, her tone still warm and courteous.
After receiving the neatly packed to-go box, the teenager left, heading not to his current residence but somewhere else entirely. 'Mom, why didn't you come today? We were supposed to celebrate my cooperation with the Kiramman family.' He silently blamed her absence but quickly tried to excuse it. 'No, she must have been sick… or something must've come up.' He shook his head, refusing to think worse. Her home was next to an enforcer branch, and her safety should have been guaranteed.
The night air felt unusually cool against his skin as he walked. He tilted his head toward the sky, where constellations twinkled faintly. His gaze fell upon a familiar pattern of a sheep and a wolf. Looming in the direction of his mother's residence. His breathing quickened, and his chest tightened. The last time he'd seen that constellation had been when his father died.
Without another thought, he ran, weaving through the crowd and pushing past pedestrians.
"Watch it!"
"Hey, what the-"
Their angry protests were nothing but background noise. His focus narrowed as his legs carried him faster, his heart pounding like a war drum. When he finally reached his old house, his heart nearly stopped. A cluster of enforcers stood in front of the property, cordoning off three houses, including his own.
He tried to step forward with trembling legs, but an enforcer blocked his way with an outstretched arm.
"Are you deaf? I've told you three times, no unauthorized personnel allowed!" the enforcer snapped, his tone sharp and impatient.
The force of the man's words jolted the boy out of his tunnel vision. Blinking rapidly, he stammered, "B-but I… I live here."
The enforcer's harsh expression softened slightly. His next shove was weaker, almost reluctant. He studied the boy's pale, trembling face and sighed. "Then… I'm sorry, lad," he said, shaking his head bitterly. "What's happened here isn't something anyone should have to see-"
"WHAT!? WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!" the boy screamed, interrupting the enforcer, his voice cracking with desperation. His outburst didn't faze the enforcer, who only glanced at him with pity.
"What's going on out here?" a calm but authoritative voice called from behind.
The enforcer straightened instantly, saluting as a middle-aged woman in a sheriff's uniform approached. "Captain," he said sharply.
The woman gave him a curt nod before turning to the boy. Her oppressive gaze softened as she looked him over. "You must be Jayce. The Talis boy…" Her voice dropped to a more minor, sombre tone. "I'm Captain Grayson. I… don't know how to tell you this."
Jayce's chest tightened like a vice. Tears welled in his eyes as he pleaded, "Is my mother okay? Please, tell me my mother's okay!"
Grayson hesitated. The silence was unbearable, and Jayce's hope began to crack under its weight. Finally, she spoke, her voice heavy with regret. "We don't know."
Her words struck him like a bolt of lightning. Confusion and anger swirled in his mind. "What do you mean you don't know?!" he demanded, his voice rising. "How could you not know?! Isn't it your job to figure these things out?!"
Grayson remained calm, her gaze unwavering. "The state the victim is in… we can't identify them," she said, her tone grave.
Jayce's legs felt like they might give out. 'What kind of state…?' The thought clawed at his mind, relentless and consuming. He didn't want to believe it; he didn't want to imagine the brutality his mother might have suffered. His chest heaved, and despair wrapped around him like a suffocating blanket.
Suddenly, a sharp, rhythmic sound of heels clicking against the stone street broke through the oppressive silence. Jayce turned, his tear-streaked face lifting as Grayson's gaze followed his.
Approaching them was an older woman who exuded both grace and authority. She wore an impeccably tailored suit, its craftsmanship instantly recognizable as the work of a renowned Piltover tailor.
Her every step radiated poise, and her commanding aura was amplified by the six enforcers following only a few steps behind her. They were distinct from the others; each uniform prominently bore the Kiramman family crest on its chest.
Jayce recognized her immediately. "Miss Kiramman, I-" he started, but she raised a hand, cutting him off with practiced precision.
"Jayce," Cassandra Kiramman began, calm and measured, "I've already been informed about this situation. That's why I'm here." She paused, her sharp eyes softening slightly. "You're a new business partner of mine, and I won't let… this," she gestured subtly toward the house, "interfere with our arrangement."
Her rigid tone eased further as she added, "I'm also a mother, Jayce. Whatever the enforcers found, you deserve the chance to identify your mother or to confirm it's not her." Her voice rebuked Grayson and the other enforcers for their inability to resolve the matter. Yet her maternal instinct was clear: if it truly were his mother, she wouldn't want him to see such horrors, but if there was any uncertainty, cruel fate demanded he step forward.
Jayce swallowed hard, bracing himself. "Thank you, Miss Kiramman," he murmured, his voice trembling but resolute. He stepped forward, but the same enforcer who had barred his way earlier stopped him again, glancing at Grayson.
Grayson exchanged a meaningful look with Cassandra, an unspoken conversation passing between them in the span of a breath. Finally, Grayson sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Let him through," she ordered, her tone resigned.
The enforcer hesitated but eventually relented and stepped aside. Jayce didn't wait for further permission, pushing himself into the house and disappearing into its shadowed interior.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" one of the enforcers asked, his voice tinged with unease. His pallor betrayed the horrors he'd already witnessed inside. "What's in there… it's not something he should see."
Grayson's expression was grim as she replied, "We can't even identify the body. Maybe he can." Her voice carried the weight of self-reproach. Today's case felt like a failure, a grim reminder of her limits as a sheriff. "This murder is… unlike anything I've ever seen," she said dejectedly.
"Is it really that bad?" Cassandra asked, stepping forward with the same calm composure she had exhibited earlier.
"Miss Kiramman, you shouldn't-" Grayson wanted to try one last time, but Cassandra cut her off with a wave.
"Sheriff Grayson," she said firmly, "I understand your concern. But as a council member, I have a duty to see this myself. From the reports I've read, this is beyond a normal murder. Someone from the council needs to show they care."
Her voice dropped into a thoughtful murmur as she added, "Has anyone from the Medarda family come to inspect the scene?"
Grayson shook her head solemnly. "No. Other council members sent representatives to gather information, but none have come in person. Only you."
Cassandra nodded. As they entered the house, they found Jayce standing at the bottom of the staircase, his face pale and eyes swollen with tears. Barred from entry once again, Both women frowned at the sight, their shared glance speaking volumes about the weight of the moment. Grayson sighed heavily while Cassandra placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch firm yet not unkind.
"Come with us," she said, her tone gentler than before.
Jayce hesitated, his legs trembling, but he nodded and followed them up the staircase. Each step felt like an eternity, his mind racing with memories and fresh realizations. As he climbed, he noticed that much of the house had been ransacked. Familiar gadgets, cherished family mementos, and even his old trophies were gone. His fists clenched as anger and grief warred within him.
'They robbed us. Why?' The question gnawed at him. 'Why kill her if they already took everything?'
By the time they reached the top, his tears were flowing freely, blurring his vision. He wiped at his face with trembling hands, trying to steady himself as they approached his old room.
Grayson opened the door, and the smell of blood hit him like a physical blow, sharp and nauseating. Despite the large crumbling hole breaking from the wall to air out the room, the metallic tang of death lingered heavily in the air. Jayce stepped inside, his heart pounding and froze.
The sight before him shattered his world.
Grayson's voice broke through the fog. "Marcus, report."
A young enforcer, barely out of training, was trembling as he approached her. His face was pale, and his voice wavered as he spoke. "Sheriff… it's… it's unlike anything I've seen before. The body is… beyond recognition. We've tried to piece together what happened, but it's impossible to be sure. No witnesses, no physical evidence left behind. Whoever did this… they knew what they were doing."
Standing behind Jayce, Cassandra had turned her face away, her composure cracking. She hurried to the corner of the room, her hand covering her mouth as she retched. Even a seasoned council member wasn't immune to the scene's horror.
Jayce's world crumbled further. As his legs gave out under him and he collapsed in front of what remained of mother, his breath shallow and ragged. His eyes fell on a small object glinting faintly amidst the gore pile: a dried, bloodied necklace that had belonged to his mother. It was unmistakable. The sight of it sent a fresh wave of anguish crashing over him.
With trembling hands, he reached out and picked it up, holding it as delicately as if it might shatter further. His fingers brushed against the dried blood, and his chest tightened painfully.
A guttural sob broke free, shattering the oppressive silence of the room. He clutched the necklace to his chest, curling into himself as his shoulders shook with the weight of his grief.
Memories of her laughter, voice, and touch, each memory cut deeper, like shards of glass piercing his heart.
He gasped for air between sobs, his voice trembling as he managed to speak. "What… what are you doing to find them?" He lifted his head, his tear-streaked face locking onto Grayson. His red, swollen eyes brimmed with pain and desperation.
Grayson hesitated, visibly unsettled by his anguish. Guilt flickered across her face as she struggled for words. "We don't have any leads, Jayce," she admitted, her voice heavy with regret. "This is the first case of its kind. Whoever did this… they're careful, calculated. But I swear to you, I'll do everything in my power to find them. I know someone who might be able to help, but it will take time to set things in motion."
Jayce stared at her, his grief quickly morphing into fury. "That's not good enough!" he shouted, his voice cracking with unprecedented emotion as he pointed at what remained of his mother, "Not for her! She deserves better than time! Better than guesses and maybe!" His breaths came in sharp, uneven bursts as he marched toward Cassandra, his desperation now turning toward her.
"Miss Kiramman, please," he begged, his voice trembling. "You have resources, connections. I'll give up anything, my rights, my freedom, just help me find who did this. I'll work for your family. I'll do whatever you want. Even if it means becoming your slave!" His words were a frantic plea fueled by the despair that ripped into his heart.
Cassandra's sharp gaze lingered on him, her usually composed expression softening briefly. But when she spoke, her tone remained measured. "Jayce, I admire your resolve," she began carefully, "but business is business. I don't mix personal matters with professional dealings." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. "You're promising, but this isn't the way."
Her cold response struck him like a slap in the face, igniting his grief into anger. "Then what good are you?!" he roared, his voice shaking with a mixture of despair and rage. His fists clenched at his sides as he took a step toward her. The six enforcers stepped in front, guarding Cassandra from this potential out-of-control Jayce, but he didn't care or even see them. His trembling body vibrates with suppressed anguish. "I'll do anything, even if it destroys me! Just give me the tools to avenge her!"
Grayson shifted, stepping forward as though to intervene, but Cassandra shot her a glare that stopped her in her tracks and called back her own enforcers. The tension in the room was heavy. Jayce's chest heaved, his breaths shallow and uneven, as Cassandra regarded him with a mix of pity and calculation.
Finally, she exhaled slowly. Her following words were unexpectedly gentle, cutting through the storm of emotions like a soothing melody. "Jayce," she said, her voice softening. "Revenge won't bring her back." She stepped closer, her eyes fixed on his. "And if I made you my slave, as you so recklessly offer, it would only destroy you completely. Your talent would be wasted. That's why I'll do something better."
Jayce blinked, startled by her shift in tone. Cassandra turned to the enforcers, her posture straight and commanding once more. "Assist him," she ordered crisply. "Whatever resources he needs to investigate this, he'll have them. Consider this a favour from the Kiramman family."
The enforcers exchanged uncertain glances but ultimately looked at Grayson, who pondered for a bit before nodding. Jayce stared at Cassandra, his expression a mix of disbelief and relief.
He clutched the necklace tighter, the sharp edges pressing into his palm. He wanted to thank and acknowledge her gesture, but the words wouldn't come. This was Piltover. He knew better than to think such actions were purely generous. Everything here came with a price, even kindness.
Grayson stepped forward, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. "We'll do everything we can," she promised, her tone resolute.
Jayce didn't respond. His gaze drifted back to the bloodstained floor. His mother's absence was a chasm he couldn't cross. A fire burned in his chest, one fueled by grief, rage, and the need for answers. He straightened, his grip on the necklace unyielding.
Whoever did this, I'll find them, he swore silently. 'No matter how long it takes or what I must do. I'll uncover the truth, and I'll make them pay.'
With that unspoken vow, Jayce pushed himself to his feet. The weight of the night was suffocating, and the tension in the room was too much to bear.
"I need some air," he muttered, his voice rough and hollow.
Grayson and Cassandra exchanged a brief glance before Grayson nodded. "Take the time you need, Jayce. We'll handle things here."
"Jayce, I have pushed our scheduled meeting back a week. Take the time to grieve, but after a week, it's back to business as usual," Cassandra added. Jayce nodded in understanding as he left the house that had carried his childhood memories ever since arriving in Piltover.
He stepped out into the cool night air once again. The streets were quieter now, the hum of Piltover's life subdued in the wake of the chaos. He wandered aimlessly, his thoughts a storm of grief and anger.
The weight of his mother's absence bore down on him like a physical force, each step heavier than the last. It wasn't long before he found himself in a dimly lit alleyway; the faint glow of streetlamps cast a long, looming shadow on him. The stench of refuse and decay wafted around him, but he barely noticed.
The suffocating silence became too much. His chest tightened, his breathing grew ragged, and the pressure building inside him finally exploded.
A guttural scream ripped from his throat, raw and primal, echoing through the narrow alley.
"AHHHHHHHHHhhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" His voice cracked with the weight of his anguish, but he didn't stop. He screamed again, louder, the sound reverberating against the walls as though the city itself mocked him.
His fist flew out, slamming into the brick beside him. The sharp pain shot through his hand, grounding him momentarily. Blood smeared across the rough surface, but he didn't care. Instead, he grabbed a discarded metal canister from the ground and hurled it with all his strength. It crashed into a pile of debris, sending shards of glass and splinters scattering into the darkness.
"You were supposed to be safe!" he shouted, his voice hoarse with fury and grief. "This wasn't supposed to happen!"
Jayce staggered, his legs trembling as he braced himself against the wall. He clawed at his hair, the rage bubbling back to the surface. Another scream tore free as he kicked a rusted pipe, the hollow clang ringing out into the empty night.
"WHY?!" he roared, his voice breaking under the weight of his despair. He gripped a loose piece of debris, a shattered plank of wood, and threw it against the wall. The splinters flew like shrapnel, scattering across the ground.
His shoulders heaved as he stood there, the echoes of his outburst fading into the oppressive stillness. Tears burned in his eyes, blurring his vision as he pressed his forehead against the wall. The cold brick bit into his skin, grounding him in the midst of his turmoil.
A faint rustling sound cut through the silence.
Jayce froze, his breath intensifying. His heart hammered in his chest, the sudden intrusion snapping him out of his frenzy. His head whipped around, and his fists clenched instinctively.
"Who's there?" Jayce demanded, his voice raw and shaky. He took a cautious step forward, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the dimly lit alley.
The rustling grew louder, coming from deeper in the shadows. Jayce's body tensed, his muscles coiled like a spring. His hand brushed against the pocket where he kept a small hammer.
With measured steps, he moved toward the sound, his breathing steadying as he approached the source of the sound. As he approached, the outline of a small figure came into view: a boy curled up against the wall, barely noticeable.
Jayce stopped a few feet away, his anger evaporating instantly as his eyes adjusted to the dimness. The boy's hair, covered with dirt and mud, hung limply over his face, its dark black strands blending into the shadows.
His small physique trembled, his thin arms wrapped tightly around his knees. His face was partially obscured by his hair and the dim light, but Jayce could make out chapped, cracked lips and faint scratch marks marring his neck. The boy's fragile, dirty appearance struck Jayce like a hammer to the chest, the pitiful sight igniting a deep well of sympathy.
"Hey," Jayce said softly, his voice no longer carrying the edge it had moments ago. He crouched down to the boy's level, his movements slow and non-threatening. "What are you doing here? Are you okay?"
The boy flinched at the sound of his voice, shrinking further into himself as if trying to disappear. For a moment, Jayce thought he might not answer. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, the boy spoke.
"I... I lost my mother," he said, his words trembling as they left his cracked lips.
The simple confession hit Jayce like a blow to the gut. His breath caught, and a sharp ache spread through his chest. The hollowness in the boy's voice and the vulnerability in those few words were too familiar. It mirrored the pain he was carrying, the same unrelenting void that had consumed him since only moments ago.
Jayce's knees buckled slightly, and he sank to the ground beside the boy. His fingers gripped his own trembling hands, and the dam he had so carefully constructed was finally breaking. A choked sob escaped him, and before he could stop it, tears began to spill down his face, falling onto the alley floor.
"I lost mine too," Jayce said hoarsely, his voice cracking. He didn't try to hide his tears or compose himself; the boy deserved his honesty. "Not long ago. And it... it feels like it's never going to stop hurting."
The boy's wide, frightened eyes softened as he glanced at Jayce. His dirt-streaked face was mainly hidden beneath his messy black hair. The boy's small frame still quivered slightly, but there was a flicker of understanding in his gaze, a faint connection forming between them.
Jayce wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, though the tears kept coming. "I don't know who you are or why you're here," he said, his voice uneven, "but... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you're going through this."
The boy didn't answer immediately, his gaze dropping to the ground. His fingers picked at a loose thread on his dirt-stained shirt, his movements small and nervous, like he was trying to distract himself from the pain.
Jayce sighed, his chest heavy as he looked at the boy's fragile form. "When I was younger," he began, his voice quiet but steady, "I used to think my mother was invincible. Like nothing bad could ever touch her. She always seemed so strong, you know? Always smiling, always... there." He swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists. "And now... she's not."
The boy's fingers stilled, his eyes flicking up to Jayce's face. He didn't say anything, but Jayce could feel his attention, the weight of unspoken curiosity.
"I can't stop thinking about it," Jayce continued, his voice thick with emotion. "How I wasn't there when it happened. How I didn't get to say goodbye. And now all I've got are these memories, and they're not enough. They'll never be enough."
The boy's gaze dropped again, his small hands curling into the fabric of his shirt. His silence felt heavy, but Jayce didn't push him to respond. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, his eyes fixed on the stars barely visible through the smoggy sky.
"Do you ever feel like..." Jayce hesitated, his voice faltering. "Like you're just... stuck? Like the world's moving on without you, and you're just here, trying to make sense of it all?"
The boy didn't answer, but the slight shift in his posture, the way his shoulders tensed, the way his fingers twitched told Jayce he understood.
Jayce forced a small, bitter laugh. "I guess I'm rambling. Sorry. I'm not really good at this kind of thing. I just... I look at you, and I see someone who's probably feeling just as lost as I am. And I hate that for you. I hate that anyone has to feel this way."
"If I ever find out who took her from me, I will never let him leave this world easily." He gritted his teeth. The shadows around the alley seemed to merge with his resolve, and the boy shuddered a bit.
Jayce noticed this and calmed down. "I'm Sorry. I shouldn't have mentioned that part. Don't worry; I won't harm you in any way."
But the boy was just silent. Jayce breathed a long sigh, feeling like he ruined this moment and was about to stand up to leave when the boy finally spoke, his voice so quiet that Jayce almost missed it
"What do you do?" he asked, his words hesitant and shaky.
Jayce blinked, caught off guard by the question. "What do I do?" he repeated, and then he nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I'm an inventor. I build things, machines, gadgets, and tools. Stuff to make life easier, I guess."
The boy shifted slightly, his wide, dark eyes studying Jayce intently. He seemed hesitant, his lips parting a couple of times as if to speak before he finally asked, "Why do you do it?"
Jayce glanced at him, momentarily caught off guard. "Do what?" he asked, his voice gentler now after their emotional exchange.
"Invent things," the boy said quietly, his gaze lowering to his dirt-streaked hands. "Why do you make things? What's the point?"
Jayce paused the weight of the question sinking in. He leaned back against the grimy alley wall, his eyes drifting upward as he considered his answer. "Because I can," he said finally. His voice was steady but carried a hint of reflection, as though the answer was as much for himself as it was for the boy.
The boy frowned slightly, his confusion evident. "But... why does that matter?"
Jayce tilted his head, a faint, wistful smile tugging at his lips. "Because creating something, anything, it means you're adding to the world, not just taking from it," he explained. His gaze met the boy's, and he saw a flicker of curiosity in those guarded eyes. "When I invent, I'm building something new, something that wasn't there before. It's... like giving the world a little more hope."
The boy's expression darkened slightly, his gaze dropping to the ground. "But what if all you can do is destroy?" he murmured, his voice barely audible.
Jayce straightened slightly, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean?"
The boy hesitated, his tiny hands clenching in his lap. "I mean... what if everything you touch falls apart? What if all you're good at is breaking things?"
Jayce felt sad at the boy's voice and the weight of his words. He thought the kid just knew how to separate things. He knelt down, bringing himself to the boy's eye level. "Hey," he said softly. That's not all you are. No one's born just to destroy. We all have the power to choose what we want to be."
The boy shook his head, his voice trembling as he said, "You don't understand. You can create things and make stuff that helps and makes people happy. But... I can't. All I do is... ruin things."
Jayce's heart ached at the despair in the boy's tone. He reached out cautiously, his hand hovering near the boy's shoulder before resting gently on it. "You're wrong," he said firmly. "Yeah, I invent things, and maybe that's my gift. But you're still figuring out what yours is. And just because you've made mistakes, or things haven't gone right, doesn't mean that's all you're capable of."
The boy glanced at him, his wide eyes filled with uncertainty. "But what if I don't know how to stop?" he whispered.
Jayce met his gaze with quiet determination. "Then you find something worth building," he said. "Something you care about enough to protect. Because when you find that thing, you'll realize that creating is stronger than destroying. It's harder, sure, but it's worth it."
The boy didn't respond immediately, his expression pensive as he considered Jayce's words. Finally, he asked, "Do you ever get scared that what you build will... fall apart?"
Jayce's smile was bittersweet, his gaze turning distant. "All the time," he admitted. "But that's the risk you take when you care about something. It's scary as hell, but it's better than never trying. And sometimes... you surprise yourself with what you can build, even from the pieces of something broken."
The boy's lips curled sadly, "I don't think I can build anything," he said softly.
Jayce's hand gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Maybe not yet," he said. "But when you do, it's going to be something incredible. I can already tell."
The boy didn't respond immediately, but Jayce noticed the faintest flicker of interest in his eyes, a subtle shift in his demeanour.
"Maybe I could make something for you," Jayce offered, his voice softer now. "Something to remind you that you're not alone."
The boy's eyes widened slightly, his lips parting as if to speak, but he said nothing. His fingers tightened around the fabric of his shirt, and for a moment, Jayce thought he might have scared him with the sudden offer.
"Hey, it's okay," Jayce said quickly, leaning back slightly to give the boy space. "You don't have to decide now. But... I don't know. I just thought maybe it'd be nice to have something to hold onto. Something that's yours."
The boy glanced at him, his expression unreadable. But after a long pause, he gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod.
Jayce felt a faint spark of hope amid the darkness in his chest. "I'll make it special," he promised, his voice steady despite the lingering grief. "Something just for you."
Before the boy could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the alley. Jayce tensed immediately, his head snapping toward the source of the noise. Moments later, an enforcer emerged from the shadows. The boy recognized him immediately—the young, lazy officer from the checkpoint he had snuck through. His casual posture and disinterested expression were the same as before.
The boy recoiled, his small frame pressing against the wall as fear flashed in his eyes. Jayce stepped protectively in front of him, his body a barrier between the boy and the enforcer.
"What do you want with him?" Jayce demanded, his voice low and firm.
The enforcer raised his hands lazily, his posture relaxed. "Calm down, hero," he said, his tone carrying a hint of boredom. "I'm here to take him back to his father. Been looking for him all night, and later, maybe a war would have broken out." the enforcer said with an exaggerated tone. His tone and expression made this moment more lighter.
Jayce's tension eased slightly at the enforcer's words, though his concern didn't entirely fade. He glanced back at the boy, who seemed to recognize the enforcer despite his fear. After a tense moment, the boy stepped forward hesitantly, his eyes darting between Jayce and the enforcer.
"You'll be okay," Jayce said quietly, his tone as reassuring as he could manage. "Your father's waiting for you."
The boy looked up at him, his dark eyes reflecting a mixture of fear and gratitude. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice barely audible.
Jayce nodded, his heart heavy as he watched the boy walk toward the enforcer. Just before they disappeared into the shadows, Jayce called out, "Hey!"
The boy and the enforcer stopped, both turning back to face him. Jayce hesitated for a moment but finally asked what was on his mind. "What's your name?" he asked, his voice steady.
The boy paused before answering softly. "Tenko."
Jayce gave him a small, hearty smile. "Take care of yourself, Tenko. And I meant it. I'll make something for you anytime. Just come by and ask."
The boy's lips quirked into the faintest semblance of a smile before he turned and followed the enforcer out of sight.
Jayce remained in the alley long after they were gone, his thoughts heavy and conflicted. The name lingered in his mind, tied to his fragile connection in those fleeting moments. He stared at his hands, now trembling slightly, and silently made tonight's second vow:
'I'll keep my promise, Tenko. One day, whatever you ask for, I'll make it for you…'
L’AVIS DES CRÉATEURS 
scullhaven
scullhaven When I first saw Post-Apocalyptic Jayce, I knew shit was gonna go down. Bro's aura was like John Wick.
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone