He looked at it for a while, only wanting to laugh.

Mockery.

He truly still found Archer detestable.

The fireplace had long been cold, but Seventeen still wanted to destroy the painting.

"That’s my belonging."

As he hesitated, a slightly hoarse voice came from the doorway.

It was Hannah.

The girl, who had been absent for so long, reappeared in front of the stone house, her red cloak covered in dust. Her eyes were dull, like a night sky that had lost its stars, with nothing left but a deep blue expanse.

"That’s my belonging."

She spoke again, pointing at the painting Seventeen was holding.

"Hannah," Seventeen stood still, unsure of what to say, remembering the thoughts that had just flashed through his mind, now feeling nothing but tension.

He had wanted to destroy the painting.

Hannah did not respond to him but walked over and took the painting from his hands.

She looked down at it, lost in thought.

"Hannah, come with me," Seventeen suddenly said.

As he uttered these words, he felt nothing but infinite nervousness and unease.

He knew that he might never replace Archer’s place, but what did that matter when he would be the one by Hannah’s side from now on?

Hannah did not reply but only looked up at Seventeen standing before her.

This time, she did not ask those questions from before and nodded her head.

After that day, Hannah left the refugee area and followed Seventeen to the east.

He was already seventeen that year, and with his work in the gladiator arena, he could take care of himself and Hannah.

But such work was gambling with one’s life.

Back when he was alone, Seventeen lived in the storage room of the arena to save money. The space was tiny and crammed with goods, with an unpleasant smell lingering whether it was summer or winter.

Because across from the storage room was where the wild and mutant beasts were held, and of course, humans too.

Those people were the "fighters" of the arena, responsible for warming up the crowd or entertaining the rich and powerful.

Now with Hannah, Seventeen no longer lived in the storage room. He spent a glass stone to exchange for a very rudimentary house.

"There’s a room inside. From now on, it will be your room," Seventeen said as he brought Hannah in.

She was still the quiet type, immersed in her own world, rarely reacting to anything from the outside.

Seventeen didn’t mind. He awkwardly cleaned up the house and the bed and then led Hannah into the room.

The bed in the room was pretty, a bright yellow princess bed.

This was something Seventeen had bartered with others for, and even if he had to spend all his saved money on Hannah, he didn’t mind.

But Hannah just glanced at it and then lowered her head, like a doll displayed in a shop window, pretty and delicate, yet silent.

The room was small but had everything necessary, somewhat like the other stone house.

But this "stone house" had no other room, and Archer wasn’t there.

"Archer," Hannah suddenly spoke up.

Seventeen stopped and looked over, "What’s wrong?"

Hannah shook her head, "What about you?"

"I usually stay in the arena," Seventeen paused for a second before continuing, "The east side is dangerous, so you just stay here. I will come over every day to cook for you, and if you need anything, you can tell me."

This was probably the longest sentence Seventeen had ever spoken in his life.

After everything was settled, Seventeen left.