Demon Being System

"It's alright… everything will be okay. I just have to follow the plan." Kaden muttered to himself as he steadied his breath. Then he let out a bitter laugh. "But when does the plan ever work?"

From the tree he'd climbed, he looked out at the mansion sprawled before him. Its golden lights cast a dazzling glow on the cobblestone path leading up to the entrance, every window gleaming with warmth and wealth. Kaden crouched in the shadows, his dull, sunken eyes flicking from window to window, searching for an opening. Through the large panes, he could see the well-dressed shapes of rich kids mingling inside. Their laughter and music flowed out, muffled by the walls but loud enough to sting.

To them, life was just a series of parties and laughter. To him, life was hunger and survival.

Kaden clenched his fists. But can I do this? he thought, hesitating. He winced, feeling the gnawing emptiness in his stomach. Oi oi oi… are you scared now? If you back out, what'll Lila eat? She hasn't eaten since morning, and you call yourself her elder brother.

A flood of determination settled over him. He had to do this. It wasn't like those rich kids would miss anything he took. For them, it was nothing; for him and Lila, it was a lifeline.

Kaden took a deep breath and slid down from the tree into the mansion, the side of the mansion, his worn shoes making barely a sound on the damp ground. His heart pounded, but he forced himself to stay calm. For Lila, he thought, picturing his little sister's pale face, hollowed from hunger, her small hands reaching up for him each time he returned with food. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her smile, at least a true smile, not the fake smile she puts on to make him feel good.

He found an open window near the back and hoisted himself up, slipping into the kitchen. The place was massive, lined with polished counters and shelves stacked with food. His stomach tightened at the smell of freshly baked bread and roasted meat. His hands moved quickly, grabbing what he could – bread, fruits, a few silver utensils he could trade, a small bottle of something he didn't recognize but figured was valuable.

Footsteps echoed nearby, and Kaden froze, clutching the food to his chest. He heard voices—drunk, carefree—and peered through a crack in the door. A group of kids around his age, dressed in fine clothes, laughing and throwing around expensive gifts as if they were nothing. He fought the urge to curse them under his breath.

Just as he turned to leave, a tall, broad-shouldered guard stepped into the kitchen, his eyes instantly locking onto Kaden.

"Hey! What are you doing here?" the guard shouted, his voice cutting through the silence.

Kaden's heart leapt into his throat. Without thinking, he bolted, sprinting down the hallway as the guard charged after him. His legs burned as he raced through the corridors, each twist and turn a desperate attempt to shake the guard. He darted left, then right, nearly slipping on the marble floor, his arms full of stolen food.

"Stop! Thief!" The guard's heavy footsteps pounded behind him, but Kaden didn't look back. He pushed himself harder, lungs aching, until he spotted a narrow window at the end of the hall. Without hesitating, he dove through it, crashing onto the hard ground outside, the guard's shout fading behind him.

Bruised and battered, he scrambled to his feet and took off into the night.

---

Kaden's breath came in ragged gasps as he ran, his heart pounding in his chest. The thrill of barely escaping mixed with a bitter chuckle. "Well… that went better than expected," he muttered with a dry grin.

The glow of the mansion faded behind him as he reached the bustling streets of the city. People turned to gawk at the boy with the dirty clothes, bruised body, and wild eyes. Some whispered, others sneered.

A few even sprayed salt behind him as he passed—a superstitious gesture meant to ward off misfortune. Kaden couldn't help but smirk bitterly. What a waste of food, he thought, though his stomach twisted painfully at the thought.

The well-dressed pedestrians avoided him like he carried a plague. His appearance alone marked him as an outsider—unkempt, gaunt, and branded with the cursed tattoo on his forehead: a small chain marking him as one of the outskirts.

The government claimed the tattoo was a way to ensure resources reached the poor, but everyone knew the truth. It wasn't a symbol of help; it was a scarlet letter, a reminder to the outskirts that they didn't belong.

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The city lights faded as he crossed into the outskirts, replaced by the shadows and grit of the slums he called home. These streets—worn, beaten, dangerous—were his territory, a place where the privileged didn't venture. Not because they feared the dark but because of what lurked within it. People here were no less dangerous than the beasts they feared; many were monsters in human skin, desperate and ruthless.

He quickly took a bread from the stolen goods and put it into his dirty clothes, he knows this place well and knows what can happened, and his expectations didn't fail him.

He fasted his pace, each step sending a fresh ache through his bruised body. In his arms, the stolen goods felt like a victory. His mind flashed to Lila, waiting alone in their small, damp shelter. Just a few more blocks, and he'd—

A hand shot out, gripping his shoulder and yanking him back. Kaden staggered, his grip loosening as he found himself facing three older men, their expressions hard, their eyes cold and sharp with greed.

"Look what we got here," sneered one of them, his grin showing chipped teeth. "You think you can just run around, taking from the rich, without giving us a cut?"

Kaden clenched his jaw, glaring. "Leave me alone," he growled, trying to twist free. But a punch to his gut knocked the breath from his lungs, sending him to his knees.

They tore through his stash, pulling out the bread, fruit, even the tiny silver pieces he'd managed to grab. Desperation and rage fought for control as he tried to keep hold of anything he could. One of the men twisted his arm, another gave him a rough shove, and the stolen goods slipped from his grasp, falling to the ground.

The men left him there, laughing as they pocketed his spoils, satisfied with their loot. Kaden lay in the dirt, his body aching, his head pounding, rage simmering just beneath his exhaustion. He forced himself to his feet, hands trembling as he checked his clothes, feeling the rough bread he'd hidden in his shirt.

Always have a backup plan, he thought dryly as he looked at the loaf of bread he had managed to starch under his clothes earlier, a pained grin tugging at his lips.

With aching steps, he made his way home, which was really just a makeshift tent of worn fabrics, patched metal, and pieces of cardboard held together with string and hope. It was barely a shelter, but as he stepped inside, he felt a warmth swell in his chest.

There, wrapped in a thin blanket, was Lila, his one bright light in a world full of shadows.

Riddle of the Day: I have keys but no locks. I have space but no room. You can enter, but you can't go outside. What am I?"

(Leave your answer in the comment, let's see how smart you are).