Hope moved swiftly, sliding through the crack in the wall of his former hideout.
The familiar rough edges scraped against his combat suit, but he barely felt it.
His body had long been accustomed to navigating tight spaces, a skill honed from years of living in the outskirts.
The air inside was thick with the scent of dust and rust, mixed with the faint staleness of abandonment.
For a moment, he just stood there, letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting.
well surprisingly...
He still couldn't believe Clara had let him go.
It was… surprising.
But maybe she didn't see the harm.
Or maybe—she thought he'd never return here again.
Either way, he didn't question it.
As he moved further in, he noticed the scavengers outside watching him.
They were still hanging around, just like before.
Only now, there was something different in their eyes.
Caution.
Fear.
They had seen him walking out of a military PTV.
And in the outskirts, that meant one of two things—
You were either with the authorities, or you were their problem.
Nobody wanted to risk finding out which one.
So, for the first time in his life…
Nobody tried to start trouble with him.
Hope ignored them and focused on the room ahead.
he's eyes darting to and fro, his accustomed sense form the street life
There was nothing much to carry.
There was nothing to carry at all.
No family heirloom.
No precious belongings.
Just cracked walls and a bare floor.
The same empty space that had once been his home.
Hope exhaled sharply, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips.
"I worked hard to achieve this… and now it's taken away."
It wasn't much, but it had been his.
A place he had fought to keep.
A place he had called home.
And now?
Now, it was just a forgotten room in a forgotten place.
so...disappointing he thought of people who would fight and guy each to regain this room
....
His gaze landed on the cracked mirror hanging on the wall.
The same mirror where he had first noticed his mark—the mark of the Veil.
Back then, he had stared at his reflection in confusion and horror, trying to make sense of what had happened to him.
That mirror had once been his only way to see himself.
These days?
He had come to hate mirrors.
Because every time he looked into one—
He didn't just see himself.
He saw something else.
Something that shouldn't be there.
His reflection.
The one that hunted him.
The one that smiled when he didn't.
Hope's hands clenched into tight fists.
His jaw locked.
And before he could stop himself—
His knuckles crashed into the mirror.
Sending shards flying around him some dangerouslu close to him
Shatter!
The sound was sharp, slicing through the silence like a blade.
The glass fractured, breaking into hundreds of tiny pieces, scattering across the floor.
Some of the shards stuck to his fist, but they didn't pierce his skin.
Hope blinked.
His hand was unharmed.
A normal person would have been bleeding by now, but he wasn't.
He lifted his fist, watching the small shards slide off.
A single thought crossed his mind.
"F**k."
He didn't know if it was his Veil-given power or just luck, but right now, he didn't care.
His gaze flickered back to what remained of the mirror.
The shattered glass reflected broken versions of himself.
Fragments.
Pieces.
"Fitting."
Hope exhaled one last time, shaking his hand before turning away.
And just like that—
He left.
Nostalgia washing over him
The crack in the wall was just as he had left it, a small passage leading back to the streets.
Hope stepped through, emerging into the dying light of the evening.
The scavengers were still watching, their eyes darting between him and the military vehicle.
Hope ignored them.
He had nothing left to say to this place.
Up ahead, Clara was waiting for him at the PTV.
Her arms were crossed, her expression unreadable.
She didn't ask him anything.
She didn't say anything at all.
She simply turned toward the vehicle, signaling for him to follow.
Hope took one last glance at the outskirts—
At the place he had once called home.
Then, without another word, he climbed into the PTV.
Pure life