Long since having left Cee behind and finally returning to a planet with breathable air, Ezra slowly adjusted to a life that didn't require constant survival instincts. No more killing for food, no more robbing people for supplies, and definitely no more missing a right arm.

He moved through the busy streets, the noise of the crowd barely registering in his mind as he focused on his destination. His boots hit the ground with steady steps, shoving past a few rambunctious passerby who were too wrapped up in their own chaos to notice him. His thoughts were on one thing, and one thing only: the shop he’d been searching for.

The sign overhead was barely visible through the throng of people, but he’d memorized its location. He'd been here before, once or twice, and even though the place felt different now—less like a den of thieves and more like a legitimate business—it still had that same raw edge Ezra had come to expect. This was where he could finally put the past behind him, or at least find a moment of peace among the mess he’d left behind.

With a grunt, he pushed open the door, and the bell above chimed softly, signaling his arrival.