The nights started blending together.
I worked at the bar every night for the next few weeks.
Quietly.
Efficiently.
Invisible.
My boss never asked questions, and I never offered answers.
The job was simple—clean tables, wash glasses, wipe the counter, take empty bottles to the trash.
Sometimes customers barely noticed me. Sometimes they didn't notice me at all.
That was perfect.
Every time the police walked into the bar, my boss didn't even look at me.
He would just jerk his head slightly toward the back door.
That was my signal.
I slipped into the storage room and stayed silent between boxes of beer and cleaning supplies until they left.
No one ever found me.
I never had to spend money either.
Food, water, and the bathroom were all included in the job. Sometimes the boss would simply slide a sandwich across the counter without a word.
It felt strange.
People helping me.
Again and again.
The only problem was sleep.
The city didn't exactly offer safe beds for people like me.
So every morning after my shift, I walked a few streets away to an abandoned dumpster lot.
One of the dumpsters had been empty for years.
Rusty, dented, forgotten.
Perfect.
I cleaned out the inside, laid down some cardboard, and that became my bed.
It smelled awful at first, but after a while I stopped noticing.
No one came there.
No one bothered me.
For the first time in my life, I had peace.
Weeks passed.
I worked.
I saved.
Every single dollar.
Eventually, the small stack of money hidden in my bag grew large enough for something real.
A small apartment.
My own place.
A door that only I could lock.
The thought alone made my chest feel warm.
So one night, before my shift ended, I decided to tell my boss I was leaving.
I barely opened my mouth before his hand grabbed my arm.
"Come here,"
he muttered.
Before I could react, he pulled me behind the bar, out of sight from the customers.
Then he shoved something into my hand.
A plastic card.
And a thick stack of cash.
I looked down.
A fake ID.
And two hundred extra dollars.
My confusion must have been obvious.
"We never met,"
he said calmly.
His voice was quiet, but serious.
"You were never here."
Then he pressed something else into my hand.
A bus ticket.
"Bus stops here in thirty-two minutes,"
he continued.
"It's going east."
My heart started beating faster.
"Step out at the very last stop."
He leaned a little closer.
"Change your appearance. Get contact lenses."
His eyes locked onto mine.
"Mark my words."
A pause followed.
Then he said something that made my stomach tighten.
"Never… trust anyone."
For a second, I just stared at him.
My vision blurred as tears suddenly welled up in my eyes.
"Oh my lord…"
I whispered.
"You are kidding…"
He shook his head.
"No time for small talk."
He nodded toward the back room.
"Pack your stuff. Keep the work clothes on. They make you look older."
I nodded quickly.
My legs moved before my mind fully processed what was happening.
"I am blessed…"
I whispered to myself while stuffing my few belongings into my bag.
"I could have gotten kidnapped… killed… beaten up…"
My hands trembled slightly as I wiped my face and pulled the hoodie over my head.
I pushed the cap low enough to hide my eyes and tucked my hair out of sight.
"But people… over people help me…"
I shook my head in disbelief.
"Fuck…"
When I finished packing, I stepped back into the bar.
My boss didn't look at me.
He just kept polishing the same glass.
But as I walked toward the door, I turned back and gave him a small grateful wave.
And a genuine smile.
Then I left.
The bus arrived quickly.
The doors hissed open, and I climbed inside, heading straight to the very last row.
Just like he said.
The city lights slowly drifted past outside the window as the bus began moving again.
I pulled out the fake ID and stared at it carefully.
Trying to memorize every detail.
Name: Jake Morrow
Age: 19
Birthday: 02.06.2000
Appearance: Blonde hair, brown eyes
I touched my own dark hair beneath the cap.
Then my eyes.
One brown.
One different.
"That means contact lenses,"
I whispered quietly.
I slipped the ID into my pocket and leaned my head against the seat.
"This is too good to be true."
Outside, the city slowly disappeared behind the bus.
And somewhere along that road, Viktor Kardy vanished.
But someone new was beginning.