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PART 1: MARCO

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A grimy ring and some copper coins glint in the man's calloused hands.

Marco knows he has to take them, but nonetheless, his reluctant hands quake slightly as he puts the things in his pocket.

He mutters, almost to himself, "May the Lord's blessing be with you."

As he turns and starts to walk out of the shop, he looks back. "And...sir? I'm very sorry."

The man does not respond, just like all the others before, nothing in his pale eyes but an empty stare, devoid of any thought. No regret, no fear, no anything. No protest whatsoever about being robbed.

As Marco steps out into the narrow, nameless alley, the stolen items jangle cheerfully in his pocket, and the boy's face hardens into something bitter. "Silence," he spits remorsefully, both to the items and to his turbulent emotions. Although eerie silence follows, the feelings in his heart refuse to be quelled.

There was no explanation as to why he was feeling this way. Like he was making a grave mistake. Like he was violating some grave law that made up his morals, just by taking things that he was sure he needed more than others. He was only doing what he had to, after all.

Perhaps she--Piumia-- would have known why.

Perhaps she would have stopped him.

But she wasn't here now, and that was why he had to do this. Even though deep down, his heart told him not to.

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