Author: 唇亡齿寒 / Lips Gone, Teeth Cold
Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/
Chapter 88
“Hey, kid. Want to make some money?”
The man looked suspicious, but in this place, who wasn’t? Without thinking, Joshua responded, “Yes.” He regretted it a moment later. He should have asked how the money would be made before agreeing.
The man’s hand, clad in a black glove, emerged from his pocket, pinching a tiny bottle filled with a transparent liquid. Against the backdrop of the dim sky and the filthy alley, the bottle shimmered like a crystal.
“I want you to kill someone for me,” the man said, tilting his chin up. “There’s a guy named Hewitt with blue hair and three earrings in his ear. He often eats at this restaurant.”
Joshua thought for a moment. Indeed, there was such a person—the boss of this block. “You want me to poison him?” the boy asked.
The man grinned, showing his stark white teeth. “Smart kid,” he said, placing the bottle in Joshua’s palm. The bottle was ice-cold, yet Joshua felt as if there were flames burning inside it.
“Just kill him. That’s all.”
“What about the money?” Joshua asked. “How much will you give me? How will you give it?”
The man stretched out three fingers. “Three thousand standard coins. I’ll give you a thousand now, the rest after the job is done. If Hewitt is dead, I’ll know, and then I’ll come to find you.”
Three thousand standard coins wasn’t much by normal standards, but it was enough to buy a life. For Joshua, who had nothing, it was a fortune that could solve urgent problems. He nodded, agreeing to the deal. The man smiled ominously again and pulled an envelope from his pocket, tossing it on the ground.
“Good luck, smart boy,” he said, disappearing into the alley strewn with stains and trash.
Joshua picked up the envelope and found a chip inside—paper money was out of fashion these days. He put the chip and the bottle of poison in his pocket and returned to the restaurant kitchen.
That night, Hewitt and his cronies were causing a ruckus in the restaurant as usual. He had a new woman with him—a haughty and beautiful prostitute wearing heavy makeup and emitting a pungent perfume smell.
Hewitt ordered a sandwich and beer, the woman a liqueur, and the rest of the gang ordered drinks. The chef, busy at the stove, muttered complaints about these freeloaders, who often ran up tabs. Joshua silently washed dishes, his heart pounding almost out of his chest, yet his mind was unexpectedly calm. All he had to do was pour the poison on Hewitt’s sandwich when serving it—so simple, a single action could do it. The ease of taking a life astonished the boy, and strangely, he felt no fear, as if his long drift had erased his emotions.
The chef set the tray with food aside. The waiter, who was supposed to work today, hadn’t shown up. “That bastard must be chasing girls again,” said the chef. “Joshua, bring the plates over!”
Joshua’s hand was in his pocket, clutching the bottle, prying off the cap with his fingernails. He approached the tray, used his body to shield his hand, lifted the top slice of bread, and poured the poison onto the not-so-fresh meat and odd sauce. Then he replaced the bread, picked up the tray, and walked out of the kitchen.
Hewitt was joking crudely with his friends. Laughter burst out occasionally, with the woman giggling and leaning into him. When Joshua set the tray on their table, the woman laughed and grabbed his arm. “Yo, handsome, come let sister have a look.”
Joshua stepped back in fright, her nails digging into his skin, causing pain. Hewitt pulled the woman’s hand back, spraying her face with smoke. “Stupid whore, thinking of cradle snatching?” Laughter erupted around them, and the woman flirtatiously leaned back into his embrace.
Joshua fled back to the kitchen, calming his breath and heartbeat. From a broken corner of the window, he saw Hewitt grab the sandwich and devour it greedily. After a few bites, he clutched his throat, emitting a discordant moan, his eyes bloodshot and bulging. The woman thought he was choking and offered him a drink, but Hewitt pushed her away, his chest heaving as if gasping for air. When the others realized something was wrong, they rushed to help, but it was too late. Hewitt’s hands, clutching his throat, lost strength, dangling at his sides, and his body stopped struggling. A bold guy pressed on his carotid artery, then howled, “Boss! The boss is dead!”
The restaurant immediately erupted into chaos. The owner ran out, trying to calm everyone down, but was knocked to the ground with a punch. Amid the turmoil, the woman’s shrieking was particularly piercing. “Hewitt died after eating! He was murdered!”
Blood drained from Joshua’s face, leaving him feeling especially cold. He didn’t know how advanced the poison was in this era, or how it could be detected, but as long as Hewitt’s men rounded up everyone in the restaurant for questioning, the truth would easily come out. He couldn’t stay here any longer!
Joshua quickly ran out the back door of the kitchen. It was already very dark, and the dying city was dim and lightless, its complex alleys even darker. He stepped over the garbage on the ground, splashing dirty water, with groups of rats scurrying under his feet, their sharp squeaks like a rebuke to this unwelcome intruder in their home.
Many years later, when Joshua recounted this experience, he realized his life seemed to be a constant flight—escaping Earth, escaping prison, fleeing the past. The difference was, back then he was alone, but now he was no longer lonely.
Joshua ran past a fork in the road, then found himself blocked both front and back. Hewitt’s men, clearly more familiar with this labyrinth of trash, were eager for a fight, brandishing clubs in their hands, planning to teach this audacious kid a lesson. Luckily, they didn’t have guns. Joshua thought, such high-end toys were beyond their reach.
“Little rat, where do you think you’re running?”
A hand grabbed Joshua’s hair from behind, throwing him to the ground, followed by punches raining down on him. The angry thugs unleashed their fury on him, alternating between clubs and fists on his back. Joshua protected his neck with his hands, curled up on the ground, futilely shielding his vital areas, hoping to endure their beating. But a voice inside him faintly told him: Give up. It’s useless. You killed a man. You deserve this. An eye for an eye.
His whole body was in pain. At first, he could distinguish whether it was his back or his chest that hurt, but later all the pain blended together, roaring like a flood through his nerves. He could only hazily guess that the difficulty in breathing was due to broken ribs, and the taste of fresh blood in his mouth was because his organs were injured, and so on.
I’m going to die. Joshua thought. Die in this unknown place. No future left. I’m sorry, Kester.
Then he heard a gunshot.
“Get lost,” a deep male voice said.
Suddenly, it was quiet around him. The previous cursing and shouting stopped. Someone trembled and said, “It’s Yulinta!”
“Get lost,” the man named Yulinta repeated.
“It’s you who should get lost, Yulinta. This kid killed our boss. We want blood for blood!”
“Get lost. You’re in my way.”
Another gunshot.
The sound of frantic footsteps told Joshua that the people who had been beating him had left. He opened one swollen eye, and through his blurred vision saw someone squatting next to him.
“It’s alright, good boy, you’re fine now,” the person said, lifting the blood-stained hair from his face. “Go back and clean up. You’re still a handsome kid.”
Joshua smelled a disinfectant scent on the person. A doctor, he thought.
Kinky Thoughts:
Normally, I don’t mention warnings except at the start of the novel, but in this case, I’ll make an exception. The next chapter depicts extreme graphic sexual assault on a minor. This is uncensored, written in 2010, so it’s not like the vague writings or allusions of recent times.
I strongly advise you to skip the chapter if this doesn’t sit well with you. The chapter basically explains why Joshua had trauma about getting intimate with Alois when they first got together.
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