Kain dashed through the shadows of the street, katana at the ready.

  His target stood with his back turned—motionless, like a condemned man awaiting execution. Just a few more steps... Kain raised his katana for a piercing strike.

  "A... A..."—a frightened voice suddenly broke the silence. But it wasn't his. Not the voice of the one Kain intended to kill.

  "What?.."

  He grabbed the figure by the shoulder and turned it around. It wasn't his target. It was someone else entirely.

  His katana was already stained with blood.

  "This can't be... What kind of monster are you..."—Kain whispered, staring at his hand, his weapon, the body.

  From the dark alley came loud, mocking claps.

  "Congratulations!"—a voice echoed with irony from the shadows.—"You've just killed an innocent person."

  "Cyde..."—Kain hissed, assuming a combat stance.

  "Kain, do you still see yourself as a hero after this? We're two sides of the same coin. How do you not see that?"

  "Don't talk nonsense! I'm nothing like you!"—Kain retorted, gripping his katana tightly.

  "Really?"—Cyde smirked.—"Then why are we still together?"

  Kain remained silent. His jaw clenched. Tension in every muscle.

  "You're not in the mood to talk... Though, it seems you never were particularly talkative."

  "There's no point in talking to you. You're a thief pretending to be something greater."

  "Interesting thought. But remember—it's just your opinion... and your mother's."

  Those words cut Kain like a knife. His patience snapped. He lunged forward, slicing the air with a lightning-fast strike. The katana passed through the body without resistance.

  But... the body began to fade. It was just an illusion.

  Suddenly—a knife! Flying straight at his head. Kain barely managed to dodge. He turned his head—and saw the real Cyde standing nearby, casually twirling knives in his hands.

  He tossed a bloodied wallet right at Kain's feet.

  "Does this remind you of anything?"

  Kain looked at it—and memories began to flood back. He focused on the wallet.

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  "Parents always want their children to be better than others... But when their dreams are taken away—everything around starts to rot,"—Cyde said calmly.

  At that moment, another knife flew at Kain, slicing his shoulder. He fell to his knees, clutching the wound. His gaze fixed on the puddle beneath him.

  In the puddle—not his reflection. Cyde's.

  "What the hell?.. What's happening?!"—the thought flashed.

  "And when you take away a child's hope for the future—they stop believing it ever existed,"—Cyde spoke.

  Kain slowly raised his head...

  And saw dozens of Cydes around him. They stood in a circle. All with guns. All with the same smile.

  Simultaneous shots.

  Kain knew—it was the end.

  Gunfire.

  Simultaneous. Precise. As one.

  Usually, he could have escaped. His ability always pulled him out of the most dangerous situations. But now... it was unclear who was real. Where the one true Cyde was firing from.

  Too late. Too many targets.

  Kain rolled to the side, tumbling. Everything in him screamed: survive!

  BANG.

  A bullet still found him. In the other shoulder. Piercing, sharp. Hot, painful, like molten iron.

  Pain engulfed him. His shoulder burned. Movement ceased. He fell to the ground, blood soaking his hand.

  Before his eyes—a puddle.

  Again, a puddle.

  And in it—not a reflection. In it, he saw Cyde. This time—the real one.

  The one who didn't hide behind illusions.

  The one who fired.

  "See, Kain, what happens when you take away a child's future?.. It's terrifying,"—Cyde said calmly.—"It's terrifying."

  Kain looked exhausted. His body screamed in pain, but his eyes burned with fury. He clenched his teeth and whispered, barely audible:

  "If a person is alive, no one can take their future away."

  Cyde, surprised, tilted his head and sarcastically asked:

  "Huh? I can't hear you. What did you say?"

  At that moment, Kain, gripping his katana, made a sharp swing. The blade passed so close to Cyde's face that he felt the cold of the metal.

  "Very interesting,"—Cyde said.

  Kain slowly stood up, shaky but alive. His shoulders trembled from pain, his hands stuck to the katana, and blood left dark trails on the asphalt. Cyde walked away from him, calmly, almost nonchalantly, without looking back, as if he knew—there was no danger.

  "Probably humiliating—to consider yourself a righteous hero who eliminates robbers, corrupt officials, murderers... and not realize that you've long become a killer yourself,"—Cyde threw, not stopping.

  "Don't talk about things you don't understand. I do this not out of a good life,"—Kain replied hoarsely.

  Cyde stopped. For a moment, silence hung in the air.

  "You killed my father."

  Kain's mind clicked. He remembered—that same wallet, that same order.

  "He was a corrupt official,"—Kain said shortly.

  "I know,"—Cyde nodded, sliding his fingers along the black leather strap of his watch. The white dial showed 02:14.—"And I know that the one who hired you to kill him has long rotted in the ground."

  Cyde slowly raised his head.

  "It's late already. I didn't think it would take this long,"—he exhaled.—"You can't hurt me. I can't kill you. We're doomed to this dance until the end."

  He stopped under a dim lantern. The light fell on him, as if on the last living person in the city. And Kain—just his shadow.

  Kain remained silent. Breathing heavily. Blood flowed from both shoulders, the katana trembled in his hand. But not from fear—from inner tension. From the desire to understand who they had become. Enemies? Or fragments of one truth?

  "I didn't choose this path,"—Kain finally said.—"But otherwise, I would have disappeared. I killed your father not because he was your father. But because he broke hundreds of other lives."

  Cyde barely smiled, not taking his eyes off the watch.

  "I know. I didn't choose who to become either,"—his eyes finally met Kain's.—"But do you know what's most ironic?

  We were both created by those we killed.

  And who is the bigger monster now, Kain?"