A Life Worth Selling

“It’s… it’s here!”

The nurse cried out, cradling the newborn in her arms.

The baby’s face was red and round, his tiny body trembling as he cried against the unfamiliar world.

“He’s beautiful…” she whispered softly, her voice nearly drowned out by his cries.

For a moment, a gentle smile spread across her face.

“May I… see him?”

The mother’s voice was weak, strained, but her eyes shone with anticipation.

“Of course, Kanzaki-san…”

The nurse carefully placed the baby into her arms.

“I’ll go fetch the father,” she added, before quietly leaving the room.

The baby continued to wail… yet the moment he settled against his mother’s warmth, his cries softened.

“Hello, little one…” she whispered.

Then—

“Setsuko!”

A man rushed in, breath uneven, sweat lining his brow.

He removed his cap, revealing neatly parted black hair.

“Ryoichi…” the woman smiled, beckoning him closer.

“That’s… he’s…”

The man faltered.

Even though it wasn’t their first child… the moment still overwhelmed him.

“He’s calm now,” she said gently, rocking the baby.

“…Dear. What shall we name him?”

“You want me to…? But I—”

“Shh… go on.”

Ryoichi exhaled slowly, steadying himself.

He leaned closer. His brows furrowed.

“E…”

“E?”

“…Eiji.”

The woman let out a soft, affectionate laugh.

“Yes…” she whispered.

“Welcome home, Eiji.”

⌁◉⌁

Rain poured endlessly from the sky.

Ryoichi walked alone, umbrella in hand, his head lowered.

City lights shimmered across puddles beneath his feet.

But the deeper he walked…

The darker it became.

The colors faded. The noise disappeared.

Until only rain remained.

At the end of a narrow alley, he stopped.

A sign hung above a door.

Magnifica

He pushed it open.

Inside, warmth greeted him—but not comfort.

He removed his coat, took a seat at the counter.

The place was small. Old-fashioned. Wooden.

Usually, its atmosphere calmed him.

Tonight… it simply couldn’t.

“Oh! Ryoichi!”

The bartender greeted him. A few regulars nodded as he passed.

Ryoichi simply acknowledged them, as he stored his umbrella and took off his wet coat.

“The usual?” the bartender asked.

“…Something strong.”

A glass of whiskey slid across the counter.

“What’s up, man?” the bartender asked. “How’s it going with the kid?”

Ryoichi sighed.

“We’re trying but… this can’t go on.”

“Hey… I get it. Things are tough. Money’s tight, but you just gotta keep—”

“I know…”

Ryoichi clenched his jaw.

“But I ___”

He paused.

“___ Can’t do this ___.”

His fingers pressed into his temples.

The stress was visible. Like it was about to crush him from the inside.

The bartender fell silent.

Searching for words. Anything that might ease his worries.

Then—

“Hm.”

A voice.

Low. Amused. A man sat beside Ryoichi.

No one had noticed him until now.

Old-fashioned hat. Dark sunglasses in the middle of the night.

Out of place seemed like an understatement.

“May I take your order, sir?” the bartender asked cautiously.

The man ignored him.

Instead, he turned to Ryoichi.

“I know a way to rid you of your problems.”

“…Huh?” Ryoichi frowned, “What are you talking about?”

“You need only…” he leaned closer, “Sell his soul to the gods.”

A heavy silence fell between them.

“What the hell are you talking about?!” the bartender snapped. “Take your sick jokes somewhere else, pal!”

But Ryoichi…

Didn’t laugh.

He stared into his glass.

And the glass stared back.

“…And even if something like that were real…” he muttered, “…would it really ___?”

The man nodded without a hint of hesitation.

“So… if I ___… they’ll ___ ___ ___, right?”

“Then ___”

⌁◉⌁

“So,” the man leaned back, “We’ve reached an understanding, it seems.”

“I already told you, I don’t believe in this crap. But I ___ it ___ ___ ___.”

The man with the hat chuckled darkly. He placed a bill on the counter and stood up.

And just like that—

He was gone. Like he had never been there at all.

The bartender leaned forward, uneasy.

“You’re not actually thinking about that load of shit, right?”

Ryoichi didn’t answer. He simply drank one last, long sip before heading to the door.

“See you around, Jiro.”

“Hey—your drink—!”

Too late. He was already gone.

The rain felt heavier now.

Ryoichi opened his umbrella again.

His chest felt heavier now. Like something had been placed inside it.

Something that wouldn’t move. An impossible, immovable weight that felt like it could physically drive him to the ground.

He looked up.

The night sky was empty.

Shina felt unfamiliar. Like he didn’t belong there anymore.

…Maybe if he saw his daughter.

…His newborn son.

…His wife.

Maybe then—

That feeling would disappear.

He exhaled. And walked forward.

“Eh…?”

But then, he stopped once more. His body refused to move.

Slowly—

He raised his head.

A figure stood beneath a streetlamp. Pitch black, its shape eerily unnatural.

Too large. Too abnormal.

And its face— an endless void of darkness with burning embers for eyes.

Watching him. Waiting.

The moment their gazes met— Ryoichi felt as if its glare could pierce him.

Ryoichi’s breath caught.

He felt cold. Something cold wrapped around his body.

His limbs felt weak. Heavy and utterly powerless.

And then—

A thought.

Not his own.

A realization.

A memory.

A debt.

Something he had promised. Something he had already given.

His knees buckled. He collapsed into the rain.

Splash.

His vision blurred.

Darkened.

And the last thing he felt—

Was that gaze.

Watching...

Claiming.