The Meaning of Happiness

Darkness.

A faint, rhythmic thud pulsed inside his skull. Not quite pain. Not quite numbness. Just an endless, dull hammering that refused to fade.

Kai felt heavy. His limbs, his thoughts, his very breath—each weighed him down, pressing him deeper into whatever rough surface he lay on.

His throat was dry, raw like sandpaper. His body ached, though the pain was distant, like it wasn’t fully his.

For a moment, he simply existed. Suspended between sleep and consciousness. Between the past and the present.

Then—

Memories slammed into him.

A dog’s teeth sinking into his ankle.
The roar of shopkeepers shouting.
The sharp crack of his skull hitting stone.
The bread—his last hope of survival—tumbling from his fingers, lost to the filth below.

A violent gasp tore from his throat. His chest tightened. His body flinched, a reflexive attempt to move—to run.

Pain flared instantly.

A sharp, white-hot ache shot through his ribs, pinning him in place. His breath hitched, strangled between clenched teeth.

Slowly—hesitantly—he forced his eyes open.

A dim, flickering light swayed above him, its glow distorted by the haze in his vision. Cracked wooden beams. Shadows twisting across the ceiling.

The scent hit him next—damp wood, old smoke, something metallic. Blood.

His blood.

Kai shifted slightly—more pain. His body was a network of aches and bruises, a collection of fading wounds and fresh bandages.

His fingers brushed against something rough beneath him. A mattress. A bed.

Not the alley. Not the cold, wet streets.

His mind sluggishly connected the pieces.

Where… am I?

The room was small, old, suffocating. The walls bore deep scratches, faint stains marking the aged wood. Footsteps. Voices. Laughter. Somewhere beyond the door, people were talking—low, amused, comfortable. A faint clink of glass followed.

He wasn’t alone.

Kai swallowed, though his throat protested. His fingers curled into the thin blanket draped over him. Stay still. Stay unseen. Stay unnoticed.

But then—

The door creaked open.

A shadow blocked the dim lantern light from the hallway.

Kai tensed.

A man stepped into the room.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. A permanent smirk resting on his lips. But his eyes…

His eyes were sharp. Cold. Calculating.

Kai had seen dangerous men before. He’d been chased by them, robbed by them, beaten by them.

But this man…

This man was different.

He didn’t move with violence. Didn’t radiate rage. Instead, he exuded something far worse.

Control.

He watched Kai in silence for a long moment, amusement flickering in his gaze. Like a predator deciding whether to play with its food or eat it.

Then—he spoke.

"You're awake, huh?"

Kai didn’t answer. His fingers curled slightly against the mattress, muscles coiled in quiet resistance. His body was too weak to move, but his mind was alive.

The man chuckled—low, quiet, amused. Then, without warning, he tossed something through the air.

Kai flinched.

The object hit his chest softly. Instinctively, his fingers snapped around it before he even looked.

It was…

An apple.

Bright red. Shiny. A single droplet of water slid down its smooth surface.

Food.

Kai’s stomach twisted violently.

His fingers trembled slightly against the fruit’s skin. His throat tightened. His body screamed for it.

But his mind whispered—

This is a trick.

His gaze snapped up, sharp and wary. The man was still watching him, still smirking.

"Eat."

Kai hesitated.

Something was wrong.

No one gave food for free. No one.

What did this man want? Why had he bandaged him? Why was he feeding him?

The apple sat warm in his palm, heavier than it should have been. His stomach churned. His body screamed to devour it, but his mind…

His mind whispered a different warning.

This isn’t food. It’s a leash.

The man sighed, watching the silent war in Kai’s face.

"You think it's poisoned or something?" His tone was mocking, entertained. He crossed his arms. "Kid, if I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have wasted a bed on you."

Silence.

Kai’s fingers twitched. His jaw clenched.

Then—

He bit into the apple.

The skin snapped beneath his teeth. The sweet, crisp flesh melted on his tongue, juice dripping down his chin.

His entire body shuddered.

Warmth. Sweetness. It had been so long.

He took another bite. Then another.

His hands shook as he devoured the fruit, barely breathing between bites.

The man chuckled again. "I see hunger still drives you."

Kai ignored him.

For the first time in a long time—he didn’t care about anything except the taste of food.

Then, just as suddenly as the pleasure had come, it was gone.

The apple was nothing but a core in his trembling fingers.

The moment ended. The hunger remained.

And now, the man’s words took on a new weight.

"But food alone won’t change the way you think."

Kai looked up, eyes narrowing.

The man smirked.

"You need to taste real pleasure."

The door creaked open again.

Kai’s breath hitched.

Two women stepped inside.

Their movements were slow, deliberate, their figures draped in loose, flowing robes that shifted like silk over their skin. Their faces were smooth, elegant—yet their eyes were sharp, knowing.

Kai’s body locked up.

A strange, unfamiliar chill ran down his spine. Not fear. Something deeper. Something worse.

One of the women—dark-haired, lips curled in a lazy smirk—strode closer, her gaze locked onto him like he was a curiosity, a game to be played.

She kneeled beside him, the faint scent of jasmine and warm skin mixing with the stale air. Her fingers—soft, delicate—brushed against his arm.

"You've suffered enough," she murmured.

Kai’s breath shuddered. His fingers twitched against the thin blanket covering him.

Another hand—this time from the second woman—lightly trailed over his shoulder, tracing the outlines of the fading bruises along his collarbone.

A new kind of tension coiled inside him, foreign and suffocating.

His body wanted to recoil—but the warmth of their touch, the softness of their fingertips, froze him in place.

"Let’s make you forget…"

Her lips were close to his ear now, her breath soft against his skin.

Kai’s heartbeat pounded in his ears.

This was different from hunger. Different from pain. Different from anything he had ever known.

And that terrified him.

A hand cupped his chin, tilting his face upward. His gaze locked onto the woman’s—her expression unreadable, her touch light but firm.

"Relax," she whispered, as if commanding it into existence.

Kai couldn’t move.

His mind screamed at him to pull away—to run. But his body…

His body was starved.

Not just for food. Not just for survival.

For warmth. For something that didn’t hurt.

For the illusion that, even for a moment, he was wanted.

Something deep inside him twisted, resisting, refusing—but the longer their hands traced over his skin, the more that voice inside him grew quiet.

A gentle touch brushed along his collarbone. Another over the scars on his wrist. Slow. Patient. Tempting.

The tension in his muscles began to melt.

For the first time in his life, his body wasn’t fighting to survive.

It was surrendering.

His hands fisted the blanket beneath him, his knuckles white. Shame and instinct battled inside him—the urge to push them away warring with the unbearable ache of loneliness clawing at his ribs.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

No. This isn’t me. This isn’t—

A soft, quiet hum filled the silence. Fingertips brushed over his jawline, tracing it gently.

"It’s okay to take something for yourself, Nikey."

His breath stopped.

That name.

Not Kai. Nikey.

The moment that name left her lips, something inside him broke.

He was already lost, wasn’t he? Already drowning.

If this was the world he was stepping into… why fight it?

His fingers unfurled. His shoulders relaxed. The tension in his jaw eased.

And just like that—

He let himself sink.

The air smelled of burnt wood and alcohol.

Kai—no, Nikey—lay motionless on the thin mattress, staring at the ceiling, his mind a tangled mess of exhaustion and something else.

Something heavier.

Something he couldn’t name.

The door creaked open again. This time, Hibiki stood in the doorway, his smirk lazy, knowing.

"Well, look at you," he mused, exhaling a slow stream of smoke from his pipe. "Told you, didn’t I? Money buys everything. Even happiness."

Happiness.

The word tasted strange now.

Nikey sat up slowly, his body still sore, his thoughts still clouded. His fingers brushed against his own wrist—his own skin—like he wasn’t sure it belonged to him anymore.

Hibiki watched him carefully, then chuckled.

"You’re ready for the next step."

The next step.

The final break.

Nikey glanced down at his open palm. His fingers curled into a fist.

He wasn’t sure what he had lost last night.

But he knew he was never getting it back.