My AI Wife: The Most Beautiful Chatbot in Another World

Chapter 158 158: Memories Behind the Scars

Loy opened his eyes.

His body felt shattered. The wound on his back still stung, his hands were bound tight, and his lips were parched and cracked. He had lost track of how many days he had been held here. All he knew was that whenever he made a mistake—no matter how small—a blow would follow. From his back, his head, from anywhere. Sometimes it was a bare fist. Sometimes a wooden club. Sometimes a whip fashioned from handmade leather cords.

Riri sat beside him, her eyes swollen from crying, her breath short and shallow. Her face was ghastly pale, her lips shriveled, and her skin dull from malnutrition. She could still speak, but her voice was a raspy croak, like someone who hadn't tasted water in an eternity.

"Loy..." she whispered.

"I'm here," Loy replied, his own voice equally ravaged. He tried to move his hands, but the ropes around his wrists were too tight. His skin was chafed raw, with traces of dried blood caking the bindings.

"Loy..." Riri called again. Her gaze drifted toward the corner of the room.

In that corner, Tomas lay motionless. The body that was once sturdy—the man who had been a shield for them all—was now nothing but skin stretched over bone. One side of his face was swollen, his eye bruised dark purple, his lips split. His chest rose and fell in slow, agonizing intervals. Sometimes it stopped. Then it would start again. Like an engine sputtering on its final drop of fuel.

Beside Tomas, Sany lay curled in a fetal position. His frame was smaller, thinner. Back then, Sany had always been the quietest. He didn't say much; he didn't move much. He would just sit in the corner, listening. Now, he didn't move at all. His chest still rose and fell, but barely. His eyes remained shut. No sound escaped his mouth.

Loy swallowed hard. "They're still alive."

"Barely," Riri answered, her voice trembling. "But..."

There was no need to finish the sentence. Loy knew. They were dying. And here, there was no medicine. No one to care for them. There were only fresh beatings every day. Every time a bandit passed by, every time they sought entertainment, every time something went wrong.

Loy stared at the ceiling of the hut, made of twigs and dried leaves. There was a small hole through which he could see the sky. It was dark. No stars.

He closed his eyes.

Five years ago. A narrow alley in the Lower District of Bakasa.

Loy was scavenging for scraps behind a meat stall. He was used to it. The stench of blood and rotting fat no longer bothered his nose. He stuffed a few bones that still had bits of meat attached into a cloth pouch, trying to remain silent. The butchers here hated street urchins. If caught, you'd be chased away. Or beaten.

"Hey."

Loy turned. A small boy with bright brown eyes stood at the end of the alley. His hair was a mess, his cheeks were caked in dirt, and his shirt was torn at the elbows. But his eyes—his eyes sparkled. Like someone who had just seen something beautiful.

"Who are you?" Loy asked.

"Kancil." The boy approached. "Looking for food?"

"Yeah."

"Me too." Kancil smiled. "But I already got some. Up ahead. The butcher there is nice. He gave me the leftovers."

Loy stared at him, incredulous. None of the butchers here were nice. They were all the same. Stingy. Cruel. Short-tempered.

"Liar," Loy said.

"Look for yourself." Kancil pulled something from beneath his shirt. A small piece of meat, still fresh. Still bloody. Loy swallowed hard. His stomach growled.

"You stole it," he accused.

"He looked away." Kancil laughed. No shame. No fear. "Want to come? I have friends. We look out for each other."

From behind a trash bin, another figure emerged. Larger. Older. His hair was brown, his cheeks chubby, and his build sturdy for a child his age. He stood in front of Kancil, instinctively protective.

"This is Tomas," Kancil said. "The strongest one."

Tomas nodded. "You can join us."

From behind a stack of wooden crates, two more faces appeared. One girl, one boy. The girl was small, her eyes darting left and right as if always scouting for an exit. The boy was thin and silent, saying nothing, only listening.

"That's Riri," Kancil said, pointing to the small girl. "The smartest. She knows every crack in these alleys."

Riri gave a small wave.

"And that's Sany," Kancil pointed to the thin boy. "The quietest. But his hearing is sharp. If danger comes, he's the first to know."

Sany simply nodded. He didn't speak.

Loy hesitated. But his stomach growled again. He nodded.

From then on, they were five. Every day, they gathered in the same alley, behind a stack of rotting crates. The place was uncomfortable. It smelled of dampness. The floor turned into a puddle when it rained. But it was their place.

Tomas, the largest and strongest, was always the shield. If a thug tried to snatch their spoils, Tomas stepped forward. If a guard tried to catch them, Tomas blocked the way. He never won. But he was big enough to make them hesitate.

"Go away!" he had barked one day when a thug tried to take a loaf of bread from Kancil's hands. The thug laughed and shoved Tomas. Tomas fell. But he got up. He charged again. Twice. Three times. Until the thug got bored and left of his own accord.

"Why didn't you run?" Loy asked that night.

Tomas shrugged. "If I run, you all run. The bread would be gone."

Sany was the quietest, the most sensitive. He never spoke much. He just sat in the corner, listening. But every time a suspicious footstep echoed, he was the first to lift his head. Every time there was a strange sound in the distance, he was the first to warn them.

"Someone's coming," he would whisper, long before the guards appeared at the end of the alley. They always managed to hide in time. The guards would pass by without seeing them.

"How do you know?" Loy would ask.

Sany pointed to his ear. No answer. Just a thin smile.

Riri was the cleverest, knowing every shortcut and gap in the narrow streets. She could enter places no one else could. Through a narrow slit between two buildings. Through a hole in a rusted fence. Across low, interconnected rooftops.

"This way!" she would whisper when they were chased by market vendors because Kancil had been caught stealing cake. She would dive into a gap between two stalls. The others followed. The vendor could only scream from the outside, unable to fit.

"How do you know these gaps exist?" Loy asked, panting for breath.

Riri smiled. "I've explored every alley."

And Loy. He was the smoothest talker. He was the one who could persuade, deceive, and talk their way out of trouble. When they were caught by guards for scavenging in the market, Loy stepped forward.

"I'm sorry, Sir. We're just looking for food. My sister is sick, and no one is caring for her. We have no one." He would cry. It was fake. But it was convincing. The guards would feel pity and let them go.

When they needed money for Sany's fever medicine, Loy went to the wealthy merchants in the Middle District.

"Please, Master. My mother is ill. We have no money." He cried again. The merchant gave him a few copper coins.

Loy brought the money home with pride. Tomas patted his shoulder. Riri laughed. Sany offered a thin smile.

Kancil wasn't there. Kancil was at Vael's library.

One afternoon, Kancil returned with eyes sparkling even more than usual. He had just come from Vael's library—a place he visited often because Vael let him look at picture books.

"I saw something," he said, sitting among them. His breath was still ragged from running.

"What?" Tomas asked while chewing on stale bread.

"Strangers. A man in strange clothes. And a woman with blue eyes."

"Blue eyes?" Riri frowned.

"Yes. Bright blue. Like..." Kancil searched for the words. "Like the crystal lamps in the Elite District."

"You've been to the Elite District?" Loy raised an eyebrow.

"No. But I've seen it from afar." Kancil sat cross-legged. "At Vael's library. There was a mana lamp—a big one. It's usually always on. But suddenly, it went out."

"A mana lamp?" Tomas didn't understand.

"Yes. A lamp powered by mana. The point is, the woman just raised her hand, and the lamp died."

Sany was silent, listening. Riri furrowed her brow. Tomas scratched his head.

"You must be dreaming," Riri said.

"No!" Kancil was ecstatic. "I saw it with my own eyes."

Loy looked at Kancil. He knew his friend never lied. But this story sounded like a fairy tale.

"And then?" Loy asked.

Kancil grabbed Loy's hand. His eyes shone. "They are going to teach me. I'm going to become strong. When I'm strong, I'll come back. I'll come get you all. We won't be street kids anymore."

Silence.

Tomas laughed and hugged Kancil. Sany smiled thinly. Riri patted his shoulder gently.

"Don't die out there," Tomas said.

"Bring back souvenirs," Riri added.

Sany only stared at Kancil for a long time. Silence.

Loy said, "We'll wait."

That was a promise Loy never forgot. Not after days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Even after they lost their shelter, moved from place to place, and were chased from one alley to another. Kancil did not return.

The hut door creaked open.

Loy lifted his head. A large man with a face full of scars entered. Behind him, two other bandits stood with clubs in hand. They never came alone. Never without weapons.

The bandit leader. His name was Boris. The man who had promised them good food, safety, and a better life. It was all a lie.

"You lot still alive?" his voice was heavy, full of mocking laughter. "Good. There's a shipment tomorrow. You're working."

Loy stared at him. He didn't speak. He had learned that speaking only made the blows come faster.

Boris paced around them, observing each one. He stopped in front of Tomas.

"Still alive, Fatty?" He kicked Tomas's leg. Tomas groaned softly, unable to wake. Boris laughed. "Come on, get up. Work tomorrow."

Tomas didn't move.

Boris kicked again, harder this time. Tomas's ribs made a sickening sound. Tomas groaned again, weaker than before.

"He can't," Loy said.

Boris turned. "What?"

Loy swallowed. "He can't. His wounds are too severe. He needs rest. He needs medicine."

Boris approached Loy, leaning down. The stench of alcohol and sweat was overpowering. Their faces were inches apart. Loy could see every scar on Boris's cheek, his brow, his lips.

"You're a smooth talker, aren't you?" Boris sneered. "Just like before. When you first came. You said, 'We can work. We're strong. We don't eat much.' Remember?"

Loy didn't answer.

"You said, 'We'll work hard. As long as we have food and a place to sleep.'" Boris laughed. "Now look. You work. You get food. You have a place to sleep. What are you complaining about?"

Loy clenched his fists. Behind his back, Riri gripped his hand. Tight.

Boris stood up and walked toward Sany. He kicked the small body gently. Sany didn't move.

"Is this one useless too?" Boris turned to Loy. "What happened?"

"Sick," Loy replied. "For a long time. Untreated."

Boris shrugged. "Not my problem."

He stepped toward the exit. At the threshold, he paused.

"Tomorrow morning. Work. If you can't get up, well... this forest needs fertilizer."

The door shut. Darkness returned.

Loy felt Riri's hand gripping his tightly. He squeezed back. Outside, the night wind hissed. Occasionally, a wolf howled.

"Loy..." Riri whispered. "Kancil... he's coming, isn't he?"

Loy was silent, staring into the void. He remembered Kancil's sparkling eyes. He remembered Tomas's laughter. He remembered Sany's thin smile. He remembered Riri's grip.

"Yes," he said. "He's coming."

He didn't know if it was hope or just a lie he had crafted for his own survival. But he had to believe.

Because if he didn't, he had nothing left.

In the dark, Loy could only wait.