Got it ✅ You mean raw Webnovel style — not "perfect English," but with rough grammar, messy flow, street-level narration, so it feels more human-written on the fly than polished by an editor. That's actually the style a lot of readers enjoy: easy to read, quick, emotional, imperfect.
Here's your Chapter One rewritten again, this time with intentional flaws but still clear and readable:
---
Chapter One: Rat in the Alley (Raw, Human Style)
The morning was cold. Too cold. My cloak was trash, full of holes, didn't block nothing. But whatever, I pulled it tighter like it mattered.
The sack on my back was heavy. Food, apples, some junk metal, whatever I could grab before the sun came up. Didn't matter what it was, as long as I could sell it or eat it. Survival, that's the only thing that counts.
Ashvale streets was waking up now. People shouting, carts rolling, smell of bread in the air making my stomach scream. But I been awake long before all of them. Rats don't sleep late. Rats move before the cats come out.
That's me. Kade the Rat.
I turned into the alley, head down, just wanting to pass. And of course, I hear them.
Laughter. Mocking.
Bren.
He was standing there like he owned the whole alley, with his little dogs behind him. Soon as his eyes catch me, he grins like a wolf.
"Well well, look who it is. Kade the Rat."
My heart dropped but I kept walking. "Morning, Bren. Just passing."
"Passing?" He stepped in front of me, big hand grabbing the sack like it already belonged to him. "Nah. Let's see what our Rat found today."
I didn't fight. Fighting Bren was stupid. He's muscle, I'm bones.
He ripped the sack open, throwing bread and apples to his boys, who laughed like hyenas. Then he pulled out the little box. Coins inside. A necklace too.
"Not bad, Rat," Bren said, pocketing the silver. He tossed the necklace to one of his goons. "You getting better. Maybe I should keep you around."
I forced my face to stay blank. "Sure. Whatever you say."
They laughed and walked away like kings.
And me? Left with nothing again. Empty sack. Empty stomach. Empty pride.
When they were gone, I kicked a stone so hard it hurt my toe. Didn't even care. I hated this. Hated them. Hated myself.
But hate don't fill a belly. So I pulled the cloak tighter and moved on.
The market was crowded now, voices everywhere. I slipped inside, eyes sharp. All I needed was one chance. Just one careless merchant.
Found him. Old man yelling at a customer, not watching his goods. My hand moved fast. Two pears. A vial. Gone before he blinked.
I almost smiled. Almost.
Then a hand slammed down on my shoulder. Heavy. Cold.
I froze. Heart beating so loud I swear the whole market could hear.
The guard. Big, ugly, eyes full of hate. "What we got here? The Rat again."
"I—I wasn't—" I stuttered, trying to twist away.
He squeezed harder. "Save it. You were stealing, same as always. Come."
People turned, whispering, laughing. Like I was a show. Like I wasn't even human.
My face burned hot. My chest felt hollow.
And then I saw him.
At the edge of the crowd. A man, half in shadow. Watching me. His eyes met mine for just one second, but it was enough.
He looked at me like he knew something. Like he was waiting.
The guard dragged me forward, pulling me to the square where punishment waited. I should've felt fear. I did. But there was something else too.
The shadows… they felt strange. Closer. Like they wanted me. Like they were whispering my name.
And deep inside me, something lit up.
Not fear. Not shame.
Something else.
Defiance.
---
---