Bruno had been sitting in his office for nine straight hours. The clock pointed to 4:22 AM, but he wasn't sleepy at all.

  On his desk were a dozen empty beer bottles, a plate of fried peanuts, a radio, and a notebook.

  Detained, but treated well.

  Except for the ban on phone calls and going out, his captors provided whatever he asked for.

  The riots in Port Sol kept blaring from the radio. Sometimes Bruno would grit his teeth in anger; other times, he cheered for the civilians' resistance.

  Even though the country was now forced into two parts, Bruno still insisted the East Bank was his country, his people, his kin.

  The beloved country was divided; it was the greatest pain of his life.

  "The riot on West Gate Street has gradually subsided. People found the body of Division Commander Dimitri inside a jeep..."

  "Good!"

  Bruno, who had been writing the words "West Gate Street," jumped out of his chair. A moment ago, he was mourning because he couldn't go there. Now, he was surging with excitement.

  "Die well! This thing died a good death! A beast who split the nation! A traitor to his ancestors! I curse you to hell!"

  Bruno rarely cursed. He had studied literature but ended up carrying a gun to the battlefield. In his world, there were two extremes: convince people with words, or convince them with bullets.

  Only that capitalist regime across the shore—the one that sold national sovereignty to foreigners—could not be convinced by words or bullets.

  Before he knew it, Bruno was covered in tears.

  He wanted to call Leo to share the news, but... Leo often ignored his calls anyway, and now the phone line had been cut.

  He gently put the receiver back on the base.

  Bruno stood up and walked to the window. He wanted some fresh air, but the window had long been nailed shut.

  Before dawn, the darkest of nights wrapped the world outside tightly.

  Through this glass window, if it were daylight, Bruno could have seen the barracks' wall.

  But the rebels had occupied the entire camp. Even if he could see the wall, so what? Armed soldiers stood beneath it.

  Of course, the rebel soldiers couldn't leave either.

  The hot-blooded soldiers loyal to the nation had the rebels surrounded just as tightly.

  Layers upon layers of encirclement. Is this fun for you? When your officers are sentenced, don't dream of having a future.

  Bruno couldn't understand the traitors who held him.

  It was obvious the officers were involved in smuggling and rebelled only after being exposed. What did these soldiers gain by helping them?

  Money? A future?

  A bunch of blindly loyal idiots.

  "We are now connecting live with Commander Antonio to give us an update on the scene..."

  Antonio?

  Bruno’s drunkenness vanished instantly. He lifted the radio, pressed it to his ear, and held his breath.

  "Commander, I understand your team has been clearing the scene for over half an hour. Please tell the listeners about the casualties."

  "Uh... currently, we've found 142 bodies of soldiers and 36 civilians. 317 are seriously injured, 294 of whom are soldiers. Only 23 civilians are seriously injured. We don't have the count for minor injuries yet, but most have been treated by medics, regardless of whether they are civilians or soldiers."

  "Also, Dimitri’s body has been found. He was charred by gasoline inside his car. For some reason, the sunroof couldn't be closed. The driver is missing; witnesses say he was taken by a gang."

  "That's the situation, host. I’ll add one thing: I mourn for all the victims, whether soldiers or civilians."

  "Alright, Commander Antonio. On behalf of the audience, I’d like to ask a few questions."

  "Go ahead."

  "How do you view tonight's riot? Was it a plot by the other side, a malicious gang attack on our army, or the shameful act of a few secessionists?"

  "Uh..."

  Antonio hesitated for a long time.

  But Bruno didn't need to hesitate to curse: "Shameful! Is this what your capitalist presstitutes are? Every word is a trap to smear us!"

  "Strictly speaking," Antonio finally said, "there is no evidence showing the other side was involved in the West Gate Street riot. Also, reliable intel shows Marida County across the shore is also in a tense military standoff. My point is, our country is in a serious crisis. Finding a solution is the right path. Let's stop avoiding the issues and stop scapegoating the other side. That’s my answer."

  "Alright, Commander. One more thing. You said 'our country.' Do you mean our Democratic Republic of the East Bank of Sangreza, or does it include the other side?"

  "Of course it includes the other side!" Antonio didn't hesitate this time. "The people there are our fellow countrymen and kin. That hasn't changed for thousands of years. You can't exclude the other side from the word 'our country' just because of today's political divide."

  "Third question then. Since you support them as compatriots, your views should be close to the Liberal Guardians. Do you support them, or the Civilian Reformists?"

  "Uh... I don't think reform and freedom should be absolute opposites. Nor do I think all Liberals or Reformists view the other side as enemies. You can have freedom after reform, and neither means throwing away national sentiment. As for my personal politics, it has nothing to do with tonight. I refuse to answer. I can only say: I love the new East Bank, "But I also love our compatriots on the other side of the river.". I am connected to them by blood until I die. They are my countrymen. Thank you."

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Alright, Commander Antonio..."

  "Sorry, I can't continue the interview... Quick! Get him into the ambulance!"

  "Commander, I haven't asked you yet if you're with the gangs—"

  "Sorry!" That was the last of Antonio’s voice over the radio.

  "Yes, you really shouldn't be giving interviews to those presstitutes. You should be drinking with me..." A voice unheard for three years echoed in Bruno's ears. He took a huge gulp of beer and finally burst into tears, no longer trying to wipe them away. "Since you know we are one people, why did you betray us back then? Why? Waaaah..."

  "Waaaah... Antonio, why did you betray us!"

  ...

  Fabian paced for an hour inside the dark, messy church. Broken glass, wood, and chair fragments crunched under his feet.

  The moon, covered by clouds, shone faintly through the broken window; Fabian could only see the slight outline of the window.

  "How long have I been lost?"

  "How much longer will I stay lost?"

  Fabian asked himself over and over.

  He struck a match. The light hit the crucifix on the wall. He faced the cross, dropped the match, and pressed a hand to his heart.

  "I, Fabian, swear here: From now on, I will never do any dirty business selling my body again."

  "But please forgive me, I still need money for my younger siblings. I need to keep my word as a man. I must finish this business with Lady Vivienne."

  "Amen!"

  After the oath was finished, Fabian felt as if he had pushed away a thousand-pound boulder weighing on his heart. He had once been crushed breathless by this boulder, but it would never happen again.

  Walking through the pitch-black corridor from the church toward the morgue, Fabian strode forward as if he could see the light, without the slightest hesitation.

  The door was pushed open slowly, and then it was closed slowly.

  When the light turned on, Evangeline walked over with a smile.

  Fabian didn't understand how this girl always kept a smile on her face. "Why aren't you asleep? Why did you turn on the light?"

  Evangeline laughed. "To keep you from falling! I moved a table earlier, right in the middle of the path. I was afraid you’d hit it and hurt your foot."

  "I mean, why aren't you asleep yet? Why aren't you answering my question?"

  "I was worried about you!" Evangeline sighed softly. "It’s so messy outside, and you were gone for so long. I was really afraid something happened."

  "I was worried about you too." Salazar, lying on top of a body locker, suddenly spoke, giving Fabian a huge fright.

  "I'm sorry I worried you." Fabian’s apology was sincere. Since he started the "flesh business," he had no friends. Everyone looked down on him. He cherished these two who didn't.

  If they were willing to be his friends, he would give anything.

  "You don't need to say sorry. I haven't thanked you yet." Salazar strained his neck to lift his head, looking Fabian in the eye. After a glance at Evangeline, he let his head sink back down to lie flat again.

  Evangeline realized Salazar was uncomfortable and put a towel under his head.

  It was originally for wiping sweat. But Salazar’s fever was gone.

  "Fabian..." Salazar spoke again.

  "Yeah?"

  "I mean, with you living such a good life with Lady Vivienne, will you forget Evangeline and me in the future?"

  "Yeah, I want to know too," Evangeline added.

  "Heh, what 'good life.' I'm just a male prostitute. She keeps me, that’s all."

  It was the first time Fabian openly admitted to others that he was a male prostitute. His face burned hot, but his heart was finally clear of any guilt.

  Salazar’s voice was calm. "I understand you might have difficulties."

  "Me too!"

  Fabian gave a silly laugh. Evangeline didn't seem to have much of a way with words; she just followed whatever Salazar said.

  But what he really wanted to laugh sillily about was that he had spent an hour in the church wondering how to tell Evangeline he was a male prostitute, and whether she would look down on him.

  It turned out he had simply overthought it.

  Fabian didn't dare take Evangeline’s hand, so he walked over and gripped Salazar’s large hand.

  "Actually, I thought in the church for so long because I didn't know how to tell you both... about me being a male prostitute. Also, I’ve sworn before the cross. Once this job with Lady Vivienne is done, I'm never doing it again. Evangeline, is there room for one more at your church? I want to help the poor with you."

  "You can, but I heard the Lady say your family’s situation is tight. Your mother is very sick, and you have four siblings. Fabian, the church pay is very low. It might not be right for you."

  Evangeline turned off the light as the sound of a car approached in the distance.

  "Fabian, I can help." Salazar squeezed Fabian’s hand in the dark. "There's a mineral exploration company working with the Land Bureau. They're hiring. They pay in US dollars. $300 a month. It’s very high, more than my salary. It's hard work, out in the wild with heavy gear. You want it?"

  "That high?" Fabian wanted to say that he wouldn't even necessarily earn $300 a month selling himself, but he held it back.

  "Yes. The manager is my brother-in-law. Their company respects the Land Bureau. Fabian, I'll ask him to hold the spot for three months. Come find me within three months."

  "That's great!" Evangeline said.

  Fabian was too choked up to speak. He could only keep squeezing Salazar’s hand.