by john1208·Translated by Novel AI Studio
They stripped me of my solo-living permit in the middle of the crowded market, tearing up my ration card while the guards laughed. Marry by sundown, or face the munitions mines. I am not one to die for pride. I grabbed the most pathetic, useful man I could find: Miros, a disgraced academic shivering in the gutter. It was supposed to be a simple transaction. We pool our meager coupons, share a freezing tenement, and secure enough coal to survive the Ash Winter. While I run dangerous, blood-soaked smuggling routes across the rooftops to keep us fed, he keeps the home fires burning. But then the Pale Cough hit. Nursing each other through the fever, sharing half-empty bowls of broth in the dark, the icy walls around my heart began to crack. I finally broke down after a botched heist left me bleeding and empty-handed, and it was his gentle, ink-stained hands that held me together. We fought tooth and nail for the ultimate prize: a Golden Writ to the Inner Ward. But as the gates close behind us, we realize the elite's paradise is a slaughterhouse. Can we fight our way out of the trap we bled to enter?
