The city stretched out in a damp, heavy sigh.
The shift had just ended. Too many dishes, too many voices, too much exhaustion.
As always, we exited through the back alley. It was shorter than going around through the main street — and more importantly, no one was waiting there.
We knew the alley well.
A narrow corridor of sweating concrete, lined with overflowing dumpsters and trash bins.
A filthy shortcut.
A silence without witnesses.
Shin, my closest friend, carried a bag.
I carried one too.
We walked without purpose.
Just to leave.
— "Imagine if we won the lottery?"
He kicked an empty can, as if to give his thoughts some rhythm.
— "Huh?"
— "Like… no more customers, no more shifts. Just us, chilling, away from all this."
He paused. Then:
— "Seriously. If you had that kind of money… what would you do?"
I exhaled, eyes on the ground.
— "Maybe I'd live exactly the same way.
But without having to."
He laughed.
A soft, almost sad breath.
— "Yeah.
The same emptiness… but free."
And then, footsteps.
Far behind us.
Three men.
They weren't in a rush.
Not nervous.
Just… confident.
They knew the place.
Maybe they had followed us.
Maybe they had waited.
The tallest stepped in front of us.
Empty eyes, chin lifted.
— "Lost your way, princesses?"
Shin slowly raised his hands.
Reflex.
Old fear.
But I stayed still.
Not brave.
Not frozen.
Just… absent.
The second one, twitchy, advanced with jerky movements.
— "Come on. Hand over your cash. This isn't a negotiation."
I didn't move.
So they decided to make me understand.
A fist. My cheek.
Another. My ribs.
A knee. My legs.
I collapsed silently.
They kept going.
Their violence wasn't personal.
It was just… what they did.
The world had taught them to hit.
And I was learning how to take it.
Blood filled my throat.
Pain floated around me, but never quite touched me.
Then: blackness.
.
When I opened my eyes, the alley was empty.
The blood had dried.
Plastic bags fluttered softly in the breeze.
No one. Nothing.
I sat up.
My clothes clung to my skin.
But my body itself was intact.
As if none of it had ever happened.
I stayed there a long time.
Not shocked.
Just… observing.
Then I left.
Slowly.
In silence.
The next day, Shin was there.
Red-eyed.
A can in hand.
— "I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep.
I saw your face… you were bleeding so bad.
You were on the ground.
I thought you were dead."
He waited for an answer.
I gave him a shrug.
A silence.
A lie.
I went home.
And then, I tested it.
Just to be sure.
A razor blade.
A cut.
Blood. Pain.
Real.
Then: nothing.
The skin closed.
Regenerated.
Untouched.
Burns. Lacerations.
Always the same result.
I remained.
And there, lying on my bed, arms behind my head, I smiled.
Not with joy.
Not with pride.
Just that strange smile you have when you uncover a truth the world never promised you.
I didn't understand yet.
But I already knew:
Nothing breaks.