After that first day, I refused to leave my bed for a week, trying in vain to keep myself from unravelling. When Alessia was taken from me I realised my powerlessness and resolved to get stronger, I wanted to seek justice for her. Isn't that why I carried her dagger, as proof of that conviction? I can't just reward evil acts or turn a blind eye to cruelty. Then why had I frozen? Why did I do nothing?

The suffering of the bladeless consumed my thoughts. But where would you even start with the slum problem? The people for their blissful ignorance? The nobles for their wilful acceptance? The kingdom for its chosen sacrifices? The species for their capacity for evil? The gods for allowing such evil to exist? You can push the blame further and further back until the only solution is to sacrifice everyone so that none will suffer again and then what? Congratulate yourself for achieving the ultimate evil?

Every time I closed my eyes I could see the murdered man's emaciated and lifeless body. I imagined Alessia in that situation. If she had been attacked of course I would have saved her. So I let that man die just because he wasn't my best friend? What if Alessia was the attacker? Would I have helped her gang-up on them? Or would I have tried to stop her? What if Alessia was the mother, would I have killed someone else so she could live another day? Mother was willing to sacrifice her dignity and body for me to have the best chance at life. What was I willing to sacrifice?

I hadn't left the dwelling for a week, with the maddening blue glow of the crystals the only way I could tell the passage of time was the old man leaving each morning and returning each night. How many years did it take for him to reach his solution, this level of conviction?

Am I going to give up? Just lie here until a change is forced on me and then cry about how cruel fate is? I finally arose from bed and wandered over to the vanity desk, I felt the hilt of the knife that lay on it, the proof that she was willing to do what it took to survive. She wasn't willing to become a victim without fighting back, nor should I. I forced my heavy body into a pushup position and resumed my neglected routine.

When the old man returned he was pleasantly surprised to see me up and about.

"Did you find your answer?"

He asked, he wasn't angry at me for going back on my word, he just looked happy to see me.

"No."

I replied,

"But I'm never going to find it in bed."

For now, I'd act as my conscience dictated and right now I wanted to help those people suffering right in front of me. If my mother ever decided to forgive me I wanted to be a person worthy of that forgiveness. Step one was to start trying and stop making excuses. Each day no matter how hard it was to find the strength to get up, I forced myself into action:

As soon as I woke up I exercised before eating anything. After breakfast came housework, dusting, tidying, and sweeping. Then came the long climb to the surface, every other day I would venture out of the city and bathe in the nearby lake, then came manning the stall. With the day's work done the climb back down was followed by the act of charity.

While the old man served stew to everyone he could, I decided to kill two birds with one stone by singing for the children. I sang for as long as I could without taking a breath while still maintaining the quality of the song. Every day I would change what I sang, some days it was a nursery rhyme medley from my childhood, other times it was something that I'd heard or read and occasionally I would sing an original wordless song. I wouldn't plan it beforehand and just went with the flow, creating a song on the fly to imitate the feeling of sword tending. Finally, we would return home where I would clean the pot and prepare the ingredients to simmer overnight.

While at the slum I refused to allow a repeat of that first day, at first I tried stopping fights peacefully but those locked in this cycle of desperation were not easy to deter. I soon found myself taking on a peacekeeping role while we helped them. I brawled with those who wanted to fight until they gave up. My fighting was terrible but I was in far better shape than even the strongest of the skeletal people.

At first, it was soul-shattering, going down to the slums every day just to know that our efforts were making a minimal difference. Until my perspective started to shift, I slowly realised that while we weren't fixing anything, our trips down to the slum were the highlight of the day for those that were left to rot, that the people were trying their best to survive despite the horror of their daily lives. My protection made everyone who visited feel safer and even caused some of them to seek me out as a mediator for conflict, knowing that they were safe as long as I was around. The look of terror in some of their eyes when it came time to leave for the day let me know that I wasn't making a real difference, but at least I could grant them a reprieve.

From time to time while manning the stall I would catch myself humming the mournful tune that drove me to the old man. I'm not sure when I started humming but I suspected that it was once I decided to hold my hands behind my back to stop me from chewing on my gloves. Apparently, it wasn't just me that found the song catchy, as passersby would often purchase some stew as an excuse to hang around and listen for a while.

Over the coming weeks, I felt like groups of women were eyeing me in the dwell. I had initially ignored it believing that it was just paranoia until I caught one hiding in the distance, for a brief moment our eyes met while she hid in one of the many alleys. Ever since then I started to try to be more aware of my surroundings, I didn't know why they were interested in me but I was sure that it wasn't for any good reason.

Before I knew it a month had passed, without any major incidents, we were making about three to four times as much money on average with me manning the stall, at this point the old man was able to afford a second pot of stew. While I manned the stall on the surface he was free to prepare and hand out stew at midday.

I was manning the stall one day when I received an unexpected visitor. It was particularly hot, the sun beamed down with ferocious intensity and I looked for any moment I could to fan myself.

"Hello! Not exactly stew weather today, am I right? A better day for cooling fluids in my opinion."

The thick aroma of powerful fruity perfume assaulted my nose. I turned my attention back to the stall and saw a blond woman with baby blue eyes. She looked a little older than my mother and dressed from head to toe in loose red robes, it looked like it would only take a light breeze to knock her clothes off. Much like the women who ran the stalls she used a ribbon tied under her breasts to accentuate them, though she didn't need it.

I didn't like it but she was right, I barely had any customers aside from the regulars but I dealt with her as I would any other customer,

"It's a little hot today, but that's all the more reason to restock your body with water and energy! This stew is perfect for doing just that!"

At the start of the day, I decided to turn off the flames to let the stew cool down, it was still warm but not off-puttingly hot.

"Oh is that so? Do you like it? The stew looks a little thick for my tastes." I was certain that she was constructing her sentences like that on purpose but I responded with my usual sales pitch,

"It's chock full of everything you need to stay fit and healthy. It's pretty much the only thing I eat."

That last part wasn't a lie, while I had a small number of coppers from generous tipping customers I didn't have money to spare on buying food when I could eat as much stew as I needed for free.

"Wow! You're a very polite and pretty young thing, aren't you? This stew works wonders! You must be paid quite nicely, am I right?"

If she had asked that question when I started working here I would've fallen straight into the trap that was hidden in her friendly banter.

"I'm just helping out the old man for free in my spare time. I'm too young to hold an actual job."

I didn't know who she was but her second attempt to catch me out made me wary.

"So young and already so responsible! But it's strange. To me at least, it looks like you're mature enough for the rite."

She took a step back and placed a finger on her lips exaggeratedly pretending to be lost in thought before snapping her fingers.

"I'd heard that a girl was assaulted at the last one. Could that have been you?"

I wasn't a fan of this game she was playing, she wanted something clear but she spent so much time beating around the bush.

"Yes, unfortunately, I couldn't do the rite this year. I'm still legally a kid so I wanted a little work experience to not fall behind other people my age."

"Very smart."

She nodded in smug satisfaction before tapping on the part of the sign that read 'Bowl of stew: seven coppers.' and then continued to speak as I turned to the pot,

"You know I'm always looking for promising women to join me and you look like a whole package deal. Intelligent check, pretty check, composed check and I've heard that you're no slouch as an entertainer."

One of the regulars that liked to listen to me hum was now waiting patiently behind her.

"I'm sorry but I'm having a good time at this stall. I'm not interested in your offer right now."

I handed her the bowl and paddle and accepted the seven coppers payment. I expected her to step aside for the next customer but instead, she smiled innocently as she emptied the bowl onto the floor. I was beside myself with anger. I wanted to reach out and slap her but problems up here couldn't be solved with violence.

"Oops. Clumsy me, you see I'm not used to eating from something like a bowl while standing up. A sturdy stick really is more convenient, you know."

At this point, I was pretty sure that she worked for the guild that managed the storefront workers but I didn't know why she was trying to make me mad, her 'acting' seemed deliberately terrible. I reigned in my mounting anger and beamed at her.

"It's alright, accidents happen."

I said,

"Would you like me to replace that bowl for you?"

I was proud of my measured response despite the situation, the old man was all about doing good deeds and it wasn't the first time I'd replaced food that someone accidentally dropped.

"Oh thank you! I was afraid that I was going to be out of pocket for this gooey mess."

I refilled her bowl and gave it back confident that I'd handled the event maturely. Now she'd be forced to leave, the customer behind had already witnessed the obvious wasting of food. Instead, she smiled beautifully with her whole face and made direct eye contact while turning the bowl upside down letting the spatula and food clatter and splatter onto the cobbled floor.

"See! If you turn a stick upside down the food doesn't fall off instantly like tha–"

"What is your problem!"

I snapped hitting the stall with my white-gloved fists. I couldn't help but think about the people that would be going without a meal tonight because of her. My temper was a problem. I knew it but it had gotten far worse after everything I've dealt with. I couldn't leave this situation though, I was forced to deal with her for as long as she wanted.

"There it is! I knew you had a fire in you! That's the most important thing I look for. No one wants a pushover you kn–"

"No, I don't know! Just like I don't know why you are harassing me!"

"Ooh! There's a bit more than a fire lurking in you! Now you've got me curious what would happen if I spat in that pot over there."

She gave a cheeky grin while pointing at the stew. I didn't think that she would do it but her words wormed their way into my head.

"Leave, now! Before I get the guards involved!"

My rapidly deteriorating self-control barely held me back from spewing the vilest profanity I could muster, any more provocation and I was going to jump across the stall and strangle her. She watched me twitch with rage and gave a heart-melting smile that perfectly concealed her blackened, icy heart.

"I've decided that I like you. I'll be back tomorrow."

she turned and walked away while waving behind her,

"Oh and don't forget it's an offence to refuse to serve a paying customer!"