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The rusted metal was heavier than it looked.
Light dragged it across the dusty ground, past scattered scraps and broken parts. Every step felt like pulling a burden that never truly lessened. His palms burned, skin torn raw. The smell of rust and oil clung to him.
CLANG.
The metal crashed onto the scale.
The old man behind the counter didn't look up. His hands moved out of habit—sorting, weighing, counting.
"Twenty," he said.
Light took the coins. No smile. No thanks.
"I need it," he said quietly.
The old man glanced at him. "For the exam again?"
Light nodded.
"Dreams are expensive, kid."
Light said nothing.
On his way home, people passed each other without meeting eyes. No hands were stretched out for alms. No one had anything to spare.
There were no beggars here.
Everyone was poor.
His house leaned slightly, its walls cracked and scribbled with old markings. But compared to the others in the fringe, it was still standing.
"Mom, I'm home."
She didn't turn around. Her hands were busy soldering a circuit board at the small worktable cluttered with salvaged components.
"How much?" she asked.
"Not enough."
She paused, then stood and went into the room. When she returned, she held a small cloth pouch.
"Here."
Light peeked inside. Far more coins than he expected.
"This is too much."
She smiled, but her eyes were tired. "If you fail, Light… this money won't save us anyway."
The words pressed heavier than the metal he'd carried earlier.
"I won't fail," Light said.
He didn't know whether it was a promise—or a threat.
That night, his father returned in grease-stained work clothes, the smell of welding and oil following him inside. He smiled, but his body sagged with exhaustion.
"You're sure about the academy exam?" his father asked, sitting down heavily.
Light nodded. "I have to."
"Plenty of smart people fail."
"I'm not them."
His father studied him for a long moment—too long—then gave a slow nod.
The next morning, a steam train carried Light away from the fringe.
Through the window, piles of scrap and trash slowly faded from view.
"I'll get us out of here," he murmured.
A mechanical voice echoed through the cabin.
Attention. The Central District Will be entered in Three hours. Please comply with all regional regulations.
When the train stopped, the city was clean. Too clean.
At the checkpoint, an officer looked at Light with thinly veiled disinterest.
"From the fringe?"
"I'm here for the academy entrance exam."
The officer snorted. "School doesn't change blood."
Light clenched his jaw.
After paying the fee, he received his identification card. Fewer coins in his pocket. The journey had only begun.
As he climbed the city steps, neat buildings and greenery spread out before him.
For a brief moment, Light forgot the smell of rust.
And without realizing it, he stepped onto the path that would ruin him.