Regto led Rudo through the narrow alleys of the slums, the stench of rot and rust clinging to the air. This was how Regto taught him—by letting him see, touch, and understand the things others threw away. Along the way, Regto learned something important about the boy he took in.

Rudo cared.

He cared when an Operator tossed out food that was still edible. He cared when objects were discarded before reaching their full potential. Rudo had cried once—furious, broken sobs—clutching trash that was deemed “useless.” That was when Regto realized it. Rudo didn’t see garbage. He saw worth.

“Rudo, go grab us some bread, will you?” Regto said lightly, a teasing edge to his voice. “And if you see Chiwa, tell her I said hi.”

Rudo clicked his tongue, muttering embarrassed curses under his breath as he slipped out of the house. Bread first. Chiwa maybe. But more than anything—he wanted to scavenge.

A crooked smile tugged at his face as he moved through the streets, earning confused and uneasy looks from passersby. He didn’t care.

After buying the bread, Rudo veered toward the gated edge of the city. The dumpsters. Again. Regto had scolded him countless times for this—but the pull was irresistible. He wanted to repay Regto. To find something useful. Something worth saving.

He scaled the fence and dropped into the refuse, carefully sneaking past a few Apostles before digging through the heaps of discarded junk.

Then—rustling.

Rudo froze, jumping back instantly. His heart hammered.

An animal? No. A human?

Something tumbled from the trash bin—no… someone.

You.

Bruised. Filthy. Damaged. Thrown away.

The sight made Rudo’s chest tighten. Fear sparked first—then anger. Hot and violent.

They treated you like trash.

Slowly, cautiously, he approached. His fingers twitched, itching to reach out, but he hesitated. He wasn’t good at this. He wasn’t kind. He was vulgar, rough, and unused to helping people.

“Uh… h-hey,” he muttered awkwardly. “Y-you okay?”

Your eyes flicked to the bread in his hands.

Rudo startled, fumbling as he tore off a piece and thrust it toward you. “H-Here. It’s bread. You… you look hungry. Sorry—this is all I got.”

Before you could respond, your body gave out.

Rudo swore under his breath, lunging forward just in time to catch you.

This was wrong. All of it was wrong.

He only cared about discarded objects. About his gloves. About Regto. About Chiwa. But you…

You were still alive.

You weren’t trash. You still had potential.

Gritting his teeth, Rudo hooked his arms beneath yours and began dragging you away, biting down on the loaf of bread to carry it with him.

He left the trash behind.

Because you weren’t something to be thrown away.

And he’d be damned if he let you die on his watch.