**CLOSED**
"Damn it! Why are all the stores closed today?!"
"No! let's try other stores."
Ezgar, fifteen, with wild black hair and sharp blue eyes, cast a quick glance at the store before breaking into a run.
His scuffed boots thudding against the pavement, the worn sides flapping slightly with every step.
He skidded to a stop, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. His eyes, wild with desperation, locked onto the bold red sign plastered on the glass.
**CLOSED**
His desperation now turned into frustration. He kicked a loose stone under his feet to vent his anger, sending it clattering across the pavement.
"Shit... now I have to go to that store."
"Even now, just the thought of her voice made my skin crawl."
He glanced down at his fingers. Thin tentacles of black smoke curled up from his skin, slow and insidious, invisible to the naked eye unless you looked closely.
He shook his hands violently. The smoke stopped. With a quick motion, he stuffed both hands into his pockets.
"Even if it only buys me two more days... it's still worth it," he muttered.
"At least long enough to make it through the sacrificial ceremony."
He turned toward the narrow alley beside the store and stepped into the shadows.
"I swore I'd never come here again... but here I am, just trying to survive a few more days."
His steps echoed against the brick walls. He walked slowly, but each stride was firm. Determined.
Just a few days left before the ceremony.
If I can make it into the next place, maybe—just maybe—I'll find a way to suppress this black smoke.
I don't know when it started.
Is it a curse? A disease? A mutation?
No one knows.
But over there...
Over there, I might find an answer.
And if I don't...
His thoughts were cut off. A sharp stinging sensation ran up his wrist.
What the hell? Is this a new symptom?
He gritted his teeth and picked up his pace.
The second store came into view—hidden deep in the alley, a place of whispers and rumors. His heart sank as he saw the familiar sign hanging in the window.
**CLOSED**
"What?! Even this seductress hasn't opened her store? Did I come at the wrong time?"
He yanked one hand from his pocket and glanced at the watch strapped to his wrist.
10 o'clock. Morning.
He eyes turned cold, and in a brust of rage, he began stomping the road, over and over.
"Ahh... it's already late, and still no one's opened."
As he stared at the store, something caught his eye—a note taped beside the sign.
Thank god. At least they left a message.
He stepped closer to read:
Dear customers,
Due to a special notification from the Association of Medicine and Drugs, we will be closed for two days.
Please visit the store after this period.
Thank you.
→
"An arrow? Shouldn't there be... an apology emoji or something?"
He followed the arrow with his gaze—and then saw it. A digital screen embedded in the wall flickered to life. A woman appeared on-screen, blinking flirtatiously, her two peaks barely concealed behind flashing text.
An address
Find me for your medical help.
And a lips emoji.
Ezgar's lip curled in disgust.
He still remembered.
That day.
The first and only time he walked into that store.
He'd just bought a dose of Roxynil and turned to leave when a woman standing nearby glanced at the bag in his hand and smirked, as if she could discern what he was planning.
"Boy, looks like you're prepping for the sacrificial ceremony next month," she said.
"So?" he replied, flat.
"Hey hey, don't be rude to your senior," she teased, leaning in. "There's a shop down that alley. Better prices. Might even throw in a little extra—if you're lucky."
"So...."
Before he could finish his sentence, she just winked at him and then vanished into the crowd.
"Huh...I just wanted to ask why are you here at this store?"
At first, he hadn't believed her single word. But Roxynil was expensive—even if it was the cheapest version of Roxytocin. One dose a month was all he could afford. And it was still less than what most people needed to stay functional.
So eventually he took the risk.
The alley was quiet. The shop, empty. No customers. Just a single woman behind the counter.
"Miss, do you have Roxynil?" he asked, stepping forward.
She looked up from behind her glasses, voice like warm honey.
"Yes... little husband."
She slid her glasses down her nose, eyes glinting, and leaned forward.
Ezgar froze. Every instinct screamed: wrong place.
"How much?" he asked, tension coiling in his chest.
"One thousand snowcrust," she said, her voice purring.
"A thousand?! Where's the discount?"
She leaned in closer. Too close. Her lips barely inches from his.
"Stay with me tonight," she whispered. "I'll give you fifty percent off. How's that sound, little husband?"
Her smile widened. There was hunger in her voice. Real hunger.
That was when he ran. No medicine. No deal. No looking back.
Now, standing before the same alley, staring at a digital screen pulsing with seductive text—and that same woman winking at him from behind the glass—Ezgar clenched his fists.
"Go to hell. I'm not dying in some woman's bed. Don't think I don't know your real purpose."
He turned away sharply.
Guess I'll have to try my luck somewhere else.
Maybe some private seller... someone desperate enough to trade under the table.
He wandered through the streets for a while, searching, but no one answered their doors. No sellers. No buyers. Just silence and shut signs.
Eventually, he collapsed onto a worn bench near the plaza, head lowered in frustration.
"Of all the goddamn days... Why today?!
Then—it happened.
All around him, every advertising screen began flashing in unison, fuzzy static visuals appeared on screens. The whole city fell silent. The world seemed to hold its breath.
Ezgar's eyes widened.
He understood.
"So... that's how it is," he muttered.
The ceremonial date has changed.
All the screens lit up at once. A low hum filled the air. Then, a voice echoed from the loudspeakers.