Chapter 2 — Strangers and Streets
The ceiling was white. Too white.
Ellian blinked up at the sterile panels above him, listening to the faint hum of machines, muffled voices in the hallway, and the slow, rhythmic beep of a heart monitor nearby — not his, someone else's. His body felt heavy, but no longer in pain.
He sat up slowly, pressing a palm to his stomach.
The wound still throbbed, dull but deep. Carefully, he lifted his hospital shirt — a standard pale-blue gown — and saw the stitches. A clean surgical line, tight and professional. The area around it was slightly bruised, but nothing like what he remembered.
He exhaled.
How am I alive? I was shot. I should've…
Before he could finish the thought, a knock came on the door. It opened without waiting for a response.
The same doctor stepped in. Early twenties, sharp features, black hair tied back into a low ponytail. She didn't smile.
"You're awake," she said, checking a digital tablet in her hands. "You've been unconscious for two full days."
Ellian looked up at her, confused.
"Two days…?"
She nodded. "We managed to stabilize you the same night. You've responded well to the antibiotics, and your vitals are normal. The wound is healing." She tapped something on the tablet. "You're being discharged today."
"Wait, already?" he asked. "Shouldn't I stay for observation or—"
"You're in stable condition," she said flatly. "We need the bed. You're fine to walk?"
"I think so…"
"Then get changed. Your clothes are in the locker." She turned toward the door. "Meet me at the front desk when you're ready."
And she was gone.
He sat there in silence for a moment, blinking.
No questions. No police. No follow-up?
It didn't feel right.
He got up. The clothes had been cleaned — same black shirt, jacket, dark jeans. Even the black scarf. They looked almost new, except for a small tear near the left sleeve.
He dressed, noting how surprisingly steady he felt. The pain in his side flared only when he moved too quickly.
I got shot two days ago. Why does it feel like a week passed?
Why does everything feel… off?
He left the room and followed the hallway toward the exit. Modern lights buzzed overhead. Bright white floors. Glass walls with frosted stripes. Everything screamed clean, new, functional.
Downstairs, the doctor waited behind the reception desk.
"Name?" the receptionist asked without looking.
"Ellian," he said. "Just Ellian."
The doctor leaned over and murmured something to the woman, who nodded.
"You have an unpaid bill," the receptionist said. "You'll need to settle it later."
Ellian's eyes widened. "Wait. I… I don't have any money."
The doctor glanced at him.
"In that case, you're listed in our deferred-payment system. Your ID number is linked to the bill. When you have funds, you'll be expected to pay it."
"But I don't have an ID either."
Silence.
She looked at him. "Then find a way to get one."
And with that, she turned and walked off.
Ellian stood there, unsure if he should say something — but the receptionist had already moved on to the next person.
Outside, the city was wide and moving.
Concrete. Neon. Cars passed in quiet streams. The sky was a pale gray, clouds thick but not threatening. Towers reached high into the horizon, steel and glass catching the light. Screens flickered across the buildings, advertisements and news headlines rotating silently.
He stepped forward slowly, unsure where to go.
People brushed past him — some in suits, some in uniforms, some clearly just trying to get home. Everyone had a place. Everyone knew where they were going.
Except him.
What now?
He took a shaky breath, trying to steady himself.
I need somewhere to sleep. That's the first step.
He wandered for hours.
He passed stores, banks, small cafés, tall apartment complexes. He stopped to ask a few people about cheap hostels — most ignored him. One woman gave him a look and said, "There's nothing free here, kid. Move along."
By late afternoon, his legs were sore again, and his stomach had started to ache with hunger. He stopped near a corner store and leaned against a wall.
What if I go outside the city? Maybe it's cheaper…
He turned to a middle-aged man walking by.
"Excuse me," Ellian said. "Do you know how I can get to the countryside? Somewhere with small houses. Quiet."
The man gave him a puzzled look.
"You not from here?"
"Not really."
The man studied him. "You talk like you're local, but you dress different."
He pointed down the street. "Go to the central platform. Take Bus Z, number 5. Last stop will get you to the edge. Might find a place to rest there."
Ellian nodded. "Thank you."
The platform was busy — four buses lined up, passengers hurrying in and out. He found Bus Z just in time and boarded.
It was almost full. Students, workers, and older couples filled the seats. He slipped into the very back row and sat alone.
Then froze.
Crap. I don't have money.
His stomach twisted.
Please don't be strict. Maybe the driver won't check…
He leaned forward and tapped the girl in front of him.
"Excuse me," he whispered, "how long until the final stop?"
She turned to look at him — about seventeen, short black hair, headphones around her neck.
"Oh! You're going to the end too?" she said cheerfully. "We've got a while. I'll let you know when we're there."
He managed a small smile. "Thanks."
The bus hummed along, and for a moment, everything was fine.
Until the conductor climbed on.
He walked row by row, checking everyone's digital passes.
Ellian's heart dropped.
The man reached him. "Ticket?"
"I— I don't have one," Ellian admitted. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I don't have any money…"
The conductor's eyes narrowed. "Out. Now."
Before Ellian could respond, the girl in front of him stood up.
"I'll pay for him."
The conductor blinked. "You know him?"
"Nope," she said casually, swiping her card. "But he's clearly lost. Just let it go."
With a grunt, the conductor nodded and moved on.
Ellian stared at her, stunned. "Thank you. I— really. I didn't know what to do."
She waved it off and turned to him. "You're not from here, are you?"
He hesitated. "Not exactly…"
"You've got the accent, sure, but the clothes? The way you look around like a lost puppy? Total outsider."
Don't tell her everything. Not yet.
"I'm not from around here," he said, honest enough. "But I don't remember where I'm from. I don't remember anything about myself."
She stared at him. "You mean… like, nothing?"
"Just my name. That's all."
"That makes no sense…"
He shrugged. "Tell me about it."
There was a beat of silence.
"Why are you heading out of the city, then?" she asked.
"Nowhere else to go. Couldn't find a place to sleep. I figured… maybe I could find a park or something."
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then smiled.
"You don't even know my name," she said. "I'm Linnea."
He blinked. Then smiled back.
"Ellian. Nice to meet you."
They shook hands — a simple gesture, but grounding.
The ride passed quickly after that.
Linnea talked a lot — about the city, the rules, the bus system, the weird vending machines that sometimes gave out free coffee. She was bright, easygoing, but sharp underneath it all. The kind of person who'd seen more than she let on.
After nearly two hours, the bus finally pulled to its last stop.
The sky was glowing orange. Sunset.
They stepped off onto a quiet road. Fields stretched on one side, and on the other — neighborhoods. Dozens of houses, each with their own little yards. Trees lined the streets. Children played outside. It was calm. Cozy.
"You can stay with us," Linnea said.
Ellian stopped. "Wait, I— I don't want to intrude—"
"You'll like it. Promise."
"I don't know... won't your parents be upset?"
She looked over her shoulder with a grin.
"We don't have any."
He paused.
"What?"
"We grew up in the state home. Got this house through a support program — Mita Charity. There's six of us, all teens. Fifteen to seventeen. You'd be the seventh."
He hesitated again. "But—what about space?"
"We've got extra rooms. Three, actually. Big house. You'll see."
She smiled at him again, soft but sincere.
"Come on. You'll be fine."
They walked.
The streets were peaceful. Warm lights spilled from house windows. The smell of food drifted through the air. Few cars passed by, and the sidewalks were wide and clean. The place felt lived in. Safe.
Ellian exhaled, tension slowly leaving his body.
This place… feels different.
Linnea talked the whole way — about the others in the house, their quirks, their late-night games and shared dinners and dumb arguments. He listened, silent but curious.
Finally, they turned the corner.
And there it was.
A large modern house stood at the end of the block. Big windows. A balcony. Lights on inside.
Ellian stopped.
What kind of people live here…?
Linnea looked back at him and grinned.
"Come on. It's not as scary as it looks."
And together, they stepped toward the front door.