Since Anna was busy cleaning, Nova decided to take a look around the town.
He slipped through the narrow alley outside the shelter, hands in his coat pockets, and headed toward the market district.
The street was crowded, but there was no life in the crowd. Most people wore torn, thin layers, their shoulders hunched low, faces gaunt from hunger.
Children sat barefoot on the corners, listlessly watching as adults moved with slow, mechanical steps between makeshift stalls.
There was no shouting, no bartering, no color—just the low hum of survival.
Nova passed a fruit vendor whose stall had exactly four apples, each of them bruised and small. The vendor looked up hopefully, then backed off when he caught sight of Nova's well-kept uniform.
Others did the same. As Nova walked deeper into the market, more eyes followed him—some cautious, others envious.
