Page 56 of Klaz

Cinta’s hand found mine, her fingers intertwining with my own. The simple gesture steadied me, giving me the courage to continue.

“I tried to go back to my home world, but everything had changed. Or maybe I had changed. Either way, I didn’t fit anymore. So I left, drifting from one station to another, taking whatever jobs I could find. Most of them involved fighting or killing. It was all I knew how to do.”

I paused, remembering those dark days. The constant buzz of alcohol in my veins, the hollow feeling that never seemed to go away.

“One day, I stumbled into a bar fight. Some local tough was hassling a woman. I stepped in, not because I cared, but because I was itching for a fight. Turned out, the woman was a bounty hunter, and the guy bothering her had a price on his head. She was just luring him in. And kindly offered to split the bounty with me if I helped her bring him in.”

Cinta nodded, encouraging me to go on.

“It was... exhilarating. For the first time since the war, I felt like I had a purpose. I was good at tracking people down, at fighting when I needed to. But more than that, I could choose my targets. I could make sure I was going after people who deserved it.”

“So you became a bounty hunter to be one of the good guys?” Cinta asked, eyebrows raised.

I snorted. “Hardly. I became a bounty hunter because it gave me structure, a way to use my skills without losing myselfcompletely. Being one of the ‘good guys’ occasionally was just a bonus.”

Cinta listened intently, her body warm against mine. When I fell silent, she prompted gently, “But you retired. Why?”

The memory kicked me in the gut, just like it aways did.

“It was supposed to be a simple job,” I began, my voice sounding distant, even to myself. “A fugitive had taken hostages in a crowded market on Feros Triuna. I was hired to bring him in.”

I could see it all so clearly - the bustling marketplace, the scent of exotic spices in the air, the undercurrent of fear as word of the hostage situation spread.

“He had a child,” I continued, the words bitter on my tongue. “A little Ferian girl, no more than six or seven cycles old. I thought... I was so sure I could talk him down, get the child to safety.”

Cinta’s hand found mine, squeezing gently. I clung to that touch like a lifeline as I forced myself to continue.

“I miscalculated. He was more desperate than I realized. When I made my move...” I trailed off, the memory of the child’s scream echoing in my ears. “He killed her. Right in front of me. And I... I couldn’t stop him.”

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the sound of our breathing. Cinta’s fingers intertwined with mine, a silent gesture of support.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said softly.

I scowled, unable to accept her absolution. “I should have been faster. Smarter. I should have...”

“You can’t save everyone, Klaz,” Cinta interrupted. “You’re not a god.”

“No,” I agreed bitterly. “Just a foolish old man who thought he could make a difference.”

I pulled away from her, sitting up on the edge of the bunk. The weight of my past pressed down on me, a burden I’d carried for so long I barely remembered what it felt like to be free of it.

“You deserve better than this, Cinta,” I said, not looking at her. “Better than me. I’m too old, too damaged. The things I’ve done...”

I felt the bunk shift as Cinta moved behind me. Her arms wrapped around my waist, her cheek pressing against my back.

“You think you’re the only one with a dark past?” she challenged. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of to survive.”

I twisted to face her, surprised by the fierceness in her expression.

“I’ve lied, cheated, and stolen,” Cinta continued. “I’ve manipulated people, used them for my own gain. But you know what? I’m not ashamed of who I am. My past made me who I am today.”

She cupped my face in her hands, forcing me to meet her gaze. “And I see you, Klaz. All of you. The soldier, the bounty hunter, the man who’s trying so hard to be better. I see the protector, the one who risks his life for strangers.”

I wanted to believe her, to let myself be swayed by the conviction in her words. But the doubt lingered, a poisonous whisper in the back of my mind.

“The age difference-” I began, but Cinta cut me off with a kiss.

“Doesn’t matter,” she said firmly when she pulled away. “Not to me.”