A Silent Vow

Arden stood in the middle of the bustling marketplace, one hand gripping a wooden sign that might as well have been a public execution notice for his dignity.

"LEGANDARY ARTEFAX FOR CHEEP PRISE!"

Not only was the spelling a crime against literacy, but the hastily drawn smiley face at the bottom made it clear that the artist—Astrea—had no regrets about it.

Arden, however, had many.

He let out a long, exhausted sigh, his soul slowly leaving his body as he turned toward the small establishment behind him. If you could even call it that.

Astrea stood inside a self-built wooden stall, one that looked moments away from collapse. It had been engineered—no, brutally assembled—with ropes, small logs, and an old table covered with a cloth that was trying its best to look like a shop counter.

Arden frowned, rubbing his temples.

"This is what you meant by going to the market?" he asked, sounding like a man who had just realized he'd been scammed.

He had thought—no, hoped—they were going to watch a performance, maybe a magic show, or even play something fun. Instead, he had spent the past two hours helping Astrea gather what could only be described as random junk.

Astrea, however, was as confident as a queen preparing for her grand opening.

"You stand there and call customers," she ordered, arms crossed, her eyes sparkling with determination.

"Ahhh... I don't want to do this," Arden groaned, looking around, hoping for divine intervention.

Astrea, unfazed, puffed her cheeks in protest, her tiny hands on her hips, exuding maximum dominance.

"You are helping me."

That was not a request. That was a decree.

Arden exhaled, waving a white flag in his heart.

"Fine, fine, ma'am." He gave a half-hearted salute.

Astrea nodded in satisfaction, fully convinced she had assembled the best salesman in town.

And then, as if fate wanted to reward her commitment, an old man approached the stall.

Dressed in a thick coat and a hat, with a weathered face full of wrinkles and a wooden walking stick in hand, he wasn't just any old man—he was someone they knew. A familiar face from their town.

The man stopped, observing the absolute disaster that was Arden's sign, before shifting his gaze to Astrea.

"Oh, Astrea, what are you selling, girl?" he asked, his tone kind but clearly amused.

Astrea's eyes lit up. She quickly reached beneath the counter and pulled out a stick—not a carved wand, not a relic, just a regular stick.

"Behold!" she declared, holding it up like it was a lost artifact of an ancient civilization. "The legendary wand of Priscilla!"

Arden, dead inside, just stood there, blinking.

The old man stroked his beard thoughtfully, playing along.

"Oh, I see! The legendary wand of Priscilla! But... how would I know it's real?"

Astrea's chest puffed up with pride as she pointed at the stick, her expression serious.

"See these patterns and writings here?" She traced her finger over the totally natural scratches and dirt stains. "I spent decades refining it."

(No, she didn't.)

Arden, having officially reached his limit, turned to the old man and shrugged.

"We found it five minutes ago at a nearby tree."

THUD.

A swift kick shot out from inside the stall, landing directly on Arden's shin.

"Aouch!" Arden yelped, hopping on one foot.

Astrea didn't even look at him. She remained professional, maintaining her customer service face as if she hadn't just committed violence.

The old man, meanwhile, was now trying not to laugh.

Arden groaned. It was going to be a long day.

The old man, still chuckling to himself, hobbled away from the stall, his cane tapping against the ground as he went. Arden, watching his retreating figure, sighed in relief. Finally, a break. Maybe now Astrea would realize that—

"You! Go get them!"

Arden froze. He turned his head ever so slowly, already knowing what he'd see.

There she was. Astrea Gohart, age six, full-time scam artist, part-time menace to society, and self-proclaimed business tycoon. She was standing behind her so-called market stall, hands on her hips, golden-brown eyes narrowed with a deadly glint.

Arden blinked. "What?"

Astrea pointed at the old man and then at another passerby who was walking away without even considering purchasing something from her absolutely useless pile of junk.

"No one leaves without buying something," she declared, as if this were a universally known fact.

Arden rubbed his temples. "Astrea, we can't force people to buy your trash."

Her eyes darkened. She leaned forward ever so slightly, like a tiny war general about to send her troops into battle.

"Arden."

Oh no. She used his name. That was never good.

"Chase. Them. Down."

Arden looked at the people strolling through the market, then back at Astrea's glare. He was outmatched. With a groan, he slumped forward, dragging his feet after a poor, unsuspecting man who made the mistake of walking too close to the stall without purchasing anything.

As Arden half-heartedly tried to convince the man to please at least consider buying a "Legendary Ancient Scroll" (which was, in fact, just a crumpled-up shopping list), a group of kids approached Astrea's stall.

They were a little older, maybe seven or eight, and clearly intrigued by the mess of artifacts displayed on the counter. One of them, a boy with messy hair, pointed at a piece of paper lying among the rest of the items.

"What's this?" he asked.

Astrea's expression brightened. "That, my friend, is a treasure map."

The kids gasped. Hook, line, and sinker.

The boy squinted at the paper. "…It just looks like random scribbles."

Astrea puffed out her chest, looking downright offended. "Those are ancient markings! They lead to the lost ruins of the great king! If you follow this path—" she jabbed a tiny finger at a completely illegible set of swirls and arrows "—you'll find riches beyond your imagination!"

The kids looked at each other, faces lighting up with excitement.

Arden, finally finishing his failed sales attempt, wandered back just in time to witness Astrea's absolute nonsense.

"Or," he deadpanned, "you'll just end up in someone's backyard."

The kids, completely ignoring Arden's warning, snatched up the map like it was made of solid gold and took off, shouting about how they were going to find the treasure before anyone else

Arden watched them run. "…We're gonna get yelled at later."

Astrea simply smirked, looking way too pleased with herself.

Before Arden could even process what his life had become, a noblewoman strolled over, clearly entertained by the entire spectacle. Her expensive-looking dress swayed as she gracefully bent forward to inspect one of Astrea's artifacts—a completely ordinary, bent spoon.

"My, what an interesting artifact!" she said, holding it up with a playful glint in her eyes. "What does it do?"

Arden's lips parted. No.

Astrea's gaze sharpened, her tiny hands gripping the stall counter as she put on her most confident expression.

"That," she said dramatically, "grants the holder unparalleled wisdom."

Arden inhaled sharply. Oh, come on.

"It's a broken spoon," he muttered, just loud enough for her to hear.

Astrea shot him a look that practically screamed shut up.

The noblewoman chuckled, turning the spoon over in her hands as if she were genuinely considering it. Then, to Arden's absolute horror—

"I'll take it."

Astrea's smirk grew. She actually smirked.

The noblewoman twirled the ancient wisdom spoon between her fingers, amusement glimmering in her eyes.

"But how will I pay you?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "You wouldn't have Arcanet at this age, would you?"

Astrea's confident smirk wavered. A single drop of sweat slid down the side of her face as she froze, still holding out her tiny hand expectantly.

"…I did not think about that," she admitted, her smile turning awkward.

Arden, standing beside her, slowly turned to face her with an expression that could only be described as I told you so.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, with a soft chuckle, the noblewoman reached into the small pouch at her side and pulled out a handful of colourful wrapped candies.

"Well, I can't just take this magnificent artifact for free, can I?" she said, kneeling slightly to be at their level. "How about we trade?"

She placed the candies on the counter.

Astrea's face lit up instantly, all previous tension gone in an instant. "Oh! Yes! That's acceptable!" She snatched up the candies like she had just won a great deal, her eyes practically sparkling.

Arden, meanwhile, just stared at the noblewoman in disbelief.

She actually bought it. Even if it was through barter.

He slowly looked down at the candies now resting in Astrea's small hands. Then at the noblewoman, who was now walking away with her legendary bent spoon.

"…I give up," Arden muttered, shaking his head.

Astrea, unbothered, popped one of the candies into her mouth, sighing in delight. "Mmm! Ardi, this is so good!" She held out one for him, her previous scam completely forgotten.

Arden narrowed his eyes at the candy for a second before hesitantly taking it. He unwrapped it, popped it in his mouth, and—

…Okay. It was good.

He let out a sigh, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "You got lucky."

Astrea just grinned, swinging her legs as she sat on the stall's counter. "I call it good business."

Arden sighed again, already bracing for whatever ridiculous scheme she was going to pull next

The sky turned a warm shade of orange, the sun lazily sinking below the rooftops of Tombuza as the bustling energy of the market began to settle. The once-crowded streets were now filled with merchants packing up their stalls and townsfolk returning home with their evening goods. The air smelled of freshly baked bread and the fading scent of roasted spices from the food stalls.

I let out a tired sigh, rubbing my aching arms as I carried a small pouch full of our so-called earnings—though most of it consisted of candies, trinkets, and a few questionable wooden toys. I glanced at Astrea, who strutted ahead of me like she had just conquered an empire. The smug look on her face made me want to groan.

"I still can't believe you sold that many," I muttered, shaking head in disbelief.

"Of course, I did." Astrea puffed her chest. "I know business."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

Groaning, I said. "You didn't even have actual money to take as payments."

Astrea grinned, holding up a handful of sweets from her pouch. "And yet, here we are. A successful trade is a successful trade."

I wasn't sure what frustrated me more—her sheer confidence or the fact that, technically, she wasn't wrong.

As we walked further into the dimly lit streets, the atmosphere shifted. The sounds of merchants yelling about discounts faded, and the roads became quieter. Then, up ahead, I noticed something.

A group of older kids—probably around nine or ten—stood in a side alley, surrounding someone. At first, I couldn't tell what was happening, but then I saw a smaller figure on the ground.

A kid—much younger than them—was curled up, shielding his face as one of the bullies gave him a rough kick.

"Oi, if you don't listen, we'll just take your stuff anyway," one of them sneered.

I stopped walking. My hands clenched into fists.

I didn't think. I just moved.

"Hey! Leave him alone!" I shouted, stomping toward them.

The bullies turned, eyeing me with mild amusement. One of them smirked. "Oh? And what are you gonna do about it, huh?"

My stomach tightened. My brain was just now catching up to my actions, but it was too late to back down.

"I'll fight you," I declared, standing firm.

The older kids exchanged glances before laughing. "You? Fight us?" One of them stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "Alright then, let's see what you got."

I barely had time to react before a fist slammed into my stomach. Pain exploded through my body as I stumbled back, gasping for air.

"Arden?!"

Astrea's voice cut through my dazed mind, and before I knew it—

WHAM!

She headbutted one of the bullies straight in the stomach.

The kid doubled over, groaning in pain, and Astrea immediately turned to another one, her tiny fists ready to fly.

But then—

One of the older boys simply placed a hand on her head.

She swung her fists wildly, but with her short arms, she couldn't reach him. She kicked, thrashed, and shouted, but it was no use.

"L-Let me go, you cowards!" she yelled, her legs flailing.

Gritting my teeth, I scrambled back up. I wasn't going to let her fight alone.

With no better plan, I lunged forward—

And bit one of them.

"OW! HE BIT ME!"

I held on as hard as I could, kicking and flailing. "RUN!" I yelled at the younger kid.

He hesitated for a moment before scrambling to his feet.

But before he could get away—

CRACK!

Another punch slammed into me, knocking me to the ground. My eyes burned with tears as pain shot through my body. I curled up, sniffling, trying to hold them back.

Astrea was punched hard on her face wand was now lying on ground trying to stand up again.

Then—

A voice.

"What's happening here?"

It wasn't loud. It wasn't angry. But something about it made the bullies freeze.

I sniffled, barely lifting my head.

Kai.

He stood at the entrance of the alley, a bag of apples hanging from his hand. His sharp eyes scanned the scene, locking onto me on the ground, Astrea struggling, and the terrified younger boy.

Those kids muttered among themselves.

"Damn it… it's Kai."

"Why's he here?"

Kai let out a slow exhale, putting his bag down. His presence alone sent a shiver down my spine.

Then, in a voice so calm it was terrifying, he asked, "What were you guys doing?"

One of the bullies tried to keep his cool. "We were just—"

BAM!

Kai's fist connected with his face before he could even finish talking.

"Yeah? Continue."

Silence.

No one dared speak.

One of them tried to run.

Kai was faster.

A few swift punches and kicks later, those kids were groaning on the ground.

He towered over them, eyes sharp like a blade. "Don't you dare mess with these two as long as I'm alive."

The bullies scrambled to their feet and ran like their lives depended on it.

Kai turned to me, arms crossed. "Tch. Stop crying already."

I wiped my face as fast as I could, sniffling one last time.

The small kid we protected was still standing there, staring at Kai in awe.

We all left the alley together, the four-year-old trailing behind us.

After a few moments, I glanced at him. "What's your name?"

He hesitated before mumbling, "Aron."

Kai raised an eyebrow. "Aron? As in… the son of that rich guy?"

He blinked. "No wonder those kids were bullying him."

For a moment, none of us spoke. Then, I looked at Aron again. "Hey… Aron…sorry for being so pathetic back there."

Aron shook his head. "No… I think you were really cool."

I frowned. "Huh?"

He looked down, kicking at a small rock. "Even though you knew you couldn't win… you still tried to help me."

My breath caught in my throat.

I didn't know how to respond.

For the first time that evening, I smiled.

Astrea, meanwhile, crossed her arms and huffed. "Obviously, we weren't gonna let them mess with you."

Kai sighed, shaking his head. "You two are trouble magnets."

I groaned. "Don't remind me."

Despite the pain in my body, despite the chaos… something about it all felt lighter now.

And for some reason, I didn't mind.