Compared to what they were doing now, the two youths actually had honest work.
It didn’t pay much and was particularly stressful, but they rarely resorted to anything disgraceful like stealing.
However, there were times when they had no choice. Even then, those moments were rare.
Yet ever since that incident with the noble, the shorter boy never imagined there would come a day when they would actively try to steal—especially not from a noble.
Growing up in the slums, they weren’t innocent. They had seen and done things that even some adults outside had never experienced. But that didn’t mean they were hardened criminals either.
They weren’t that experienced.
This attempt was so reckless that even other nobles would acknowledge their sheer audacity.
To be honest, Michael felt the same.
He wasn’t a noble, but he was starting to understand just how important this fake identity of his was.
Their actions were seen as absolutely bold to him.
The path narrowed as they led Michael deeper into the slums, weaving through twisting alleys filled with filth and decay. The deeper they went, the fewer people they saw. Those who remained were either too preoccupied with their own struggles or deliberately avoided looking in their direction.
Eventually, they reached a dead end. Crumbling brick walls loomed around them, and the air was thick with the stench of rotting garbage. The only exit was the way they had come.
The taller youth stopped first, turning sharply to face Michael. His fingers twitched around the knife, his stance tense. The shorter one hesitated for a brief moment before stepping beside him, his unease clear in his shifting eyes.
“Drop your valuables,” the taller boy ordered, his voice hard but betraying the slightest edge of nervousness. “All of them.”
Michael exhaled softly, his patience wearing thin. He had played along, entertained by their attempt, but now they were getting serious.
It was time to drop the pretense.
He glanced between them, his expression shifting. The casual amusement in his eyes faded, replaced by something colder.
“Are you done?” Michael asked, his voice steady.
The taller youth scowled. “I said—”
Before he could finish, Michael took a step forward. Just one.
But it was enough.
The shorter boy instinctively flinched, and even the taller one, despite his anger, took a half-step back before catching himself.
Michael’s gaze locked onto them, unblinking.
“You led me here thinking this would be an easy job,” he said, his tone now completely devoid of humor. “Now that we’re alone, tell me… do you still think that?”
The alley fell into silence.
The taller youth gritted his teeth, trying to mask his hesitation, but Michael could see the way his grip on the knife tightened, his muscles tensed as if preparing to strike—or flee.
The shorter one, on the other hand, seemed to shrink under Michael’s gaze. His nervousness, which had been present from the beginning, was now unmistakable.
Michael took another step forward, slow and deliberate. “I’ll ask once,” he said, his voice even. “Why were you following me?”
Neither of them answered immediately.
The taller one’s jaw clenched. “We weren’t—”
Michael cut him off with a slight tilt of his head. “Don’t bother lying. You two have been shadowing me since I left the inner city. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
The taller boy’s scowl deepened. “You’re too damn arrogant,” he spat. “Shut up already!”
His grip on the knife trembled, not from fear but from sheer frustration. “This is exactly why I hate nobles,” he continued, his voice rising. “You all act like you’re better than everyone else! Walking around like the world belongs to you, looking down on people like us!”
Michael didn’t respond. He simply watched.
That only made the taller youth angrier. “Tch. Look at you. Not even taking me seriously. You think this is funny?”
His breath was uneven, his emotions flaring beyond reason. The shorter boy reached out as if to stop him, but the taller one was already moving.
With a burst of motion, he lunged forward, knife flashing toward Michael’s chest.
Michael didn’t move. Not yet.
He simply observed—his stance relaxed, his eyes calm.
The taller boy’s strike was quick but unrefined. There was no real technique, just the desperate aggression of someone trying to force their will on the world.
At that moment Michael couldn’t help but think if this was truly just a robbery.
The attack was sloppy. Wild.
The knife arced toward him, but it was slow—at least to him.
Michael shifted.
A simple sidestep. No wasted movement.
The blade sliced through empty air, and before the taller boy could recover, Michael reached out.
His hand caught the boy’s wrist in an iron grip.
A sharp twist.
The knife clattered to the ground.
Michael didn’t let go. He stepped forward, forcing the boy back until he slammed into the crumbling brick wall behind him.
A sharp gasp escaped his lips as his back hit the rough surface.
The shorter boy stood frozen, eyes wide with disbelief.
Michael’s grip tightened just enough to make his point. “I’ll ask again,” he said, his voice low. “Why were you following me?”
The taller boy gritted his teeth, glaring at Michael, but he couldn’t mask the way his body trembled slightly. Anger? Fear? Probably both.
The shorter one looked between them, then at the discarded knife. He swallowed hard.
Then, with a sharp inhale, he took a step back and reached into his tattered coat.
Michael’s eyes flicked to the movement.
A second knife.
“Let him go,” he said, voice shaky but determined. “Now.”
Michael remained still.
He could see it in the shorter of the duo eyes—the hesitation. The fear of his actions.
He wasn’t a killer.
The boy was terrified, but he wasn’t backing down.
The boy adjusted his grip on the knife, raising it slightly. His hands were unsteady, but his voice was firmer this time.
“I swear, I’ll do it,” he said. “I don’t care if you know some fancy self-defense. I know how to use a knife too.”
Michael met his gaze, unblinking. He didn’t need to call the bluff out loud—the boy’s trembling fingers already did that for him.
The boy was barely holding himself together, his breath uneven, his stance all wrong. If he actually knew how to fight, he wouldn’t be holding the blade like that.
The taller boy, still pinned against the wall, growled, “Hey, don’t be stupid!”
“I—I’m not!” The other one snapped, his voice cracking slightly. “He’s just one guy! If we both—”
It was at this moment Michael suddenly moved.