Shadow’s Redemption

Chapter Two: A Man's Dignity

BANG!

With all his strength, Jaxon hurled his second empty beer bottle. It shattered against the pavement with a sharp c***k, sending a visible ripple of excitement through the distant crowd that had gathered to watch the strange scene from a safe distance.

Sitting on this once-bustling street that was now eerily empty—everyone giving them a wide berth as if they carried the plague—right beside a naked corpse whose buttock wound was still oozing blood in slow, dark pulses, Jaxon coldly surveyed the ring of spectators who didn’t dare come closer yet couldn’t tear themselves away. Then, suddenly, he threw his head back and laughed.

“Have you not seen the waters of the Yellow River rushing down from heaven, flowing to the sea, never to return?

Have you not seen the bright mirror in the high hall, morning black silk hair turned to snow by evening?

Life is short—seize the day! Let not the golden cup stand empty beneath the moon.

Heaven gave me talent—it will be used.

A thousand gold pieces spent will come back again.

Kill the sheep, s*******r the ox—let’s revel!

Drink three hundred cups at once!

Master Cen, Master Danqiu—drink! Don’t stop the cup!

I’ll sing you a song—lend me your ear…

Hahaha… This is f*****g awesome!”

In this absurd, blood-soaked moment, Jaxon pounded the hard pavement beneath him and proudly recited Li Bai’s immortal drinking poem, his voice growing louder, wilder, freer. The reckless boldness, the untamed spirit radiating from this boy far too young for such intensity, left Felix Shadow utterly stunned.

Felix, who had spent his whole life trying to please his father, watching every teacher’s and classmate’s expression, always straining to be the perfect, praiseworthy child—only now realized that in this world, it was possible to live with such fierce individuality, such flamboyant disregard for consequence.

“I really didn’t expect,” Jaxon said, grinning crookedly, “that the person sharing my last drink in this life wouldn’t be one of those ice-queen classmates who turn into fire in bed… nor one of those glamorous office ladies who dress up to go to bars and cafés, pretending to be respectable but really just hunting for a one-night stand… nor even one of those lonely landladies who waive three months’ rent after one night together.

No. It’s an eight-year-old kid who doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink, is scared of his own shadow, and only speaks when spoken to.”

At that point, Jaxon—who had finally introduced himself properly—bit the cap off another beer bottle with his teeth, filled Felix’s paper cup, raised the bottle high, and shouted:

“It’s fate we met tonight, little brother. Come on—let’s drink like men!”

Even though there was no yogurt this time, even though the bitter taste still made Felix’s face scrunch up, when he met Jaxon’s eyes—dark and shining like wine-soaked black gems—an inexplicable impulse surged through him. For the first time in his life, Felix raised the cup and, imitating Jaxon, downed the entire beer in one go.

**BANG!**

Jaxon threw the third bottle deliberately toward the nearest part of the crowd this time. People scattered like startled birds. So many men towered over him, stronger, older—but not one dared step forward, not one dared raise a voice, let alone a fist. Jaxon’s wild, unrestrained smile grew even wider.

“Brother Jaxon…”

Normally Felix wouldn’t dare ask questions of any stranger, especially one older than him. But after three beers, something warm and light rose in his chest, loosening his tongue.

“You killed someone. They’re going to execute you… Aren’t you afraid at all?”

“Afraid?”

Jaxon reached out and gently ruffled Felix’s hair, a surprisingly tender gesture.

“You’re too young to understand now… maybe someday you will.

I’m not even afraid to keep on living. So why the hell would I be afraid of some bullshit execution?”

And then he laughed again—loud, bitter, heartbreaking.

Felix didn’t understand the words, but he stared at Jaxon in silence. Maybe because they were sitting so close, or maybe it was just a rare collision of souls, but in that moment he glimpsed something—a deep, fleeting sadness that flashed through Jaxon’s eyes and was gone.

Felix pointed timidly at the corpse. After sitting there for a while, he was slightly less terrified.

“Then… why did you kill him?”

“Because…”

Jaxon started to toss out a casual “because he deserved it,” but the words died in his throat.

He had killed this man, yes.

But he would also inevitably pay with his own life.

And he would face the vicious revenge of a deputy mayor who’d lost his only son.

How could such a perfect lose-lose tragedy be reduced to “he deserved it”?

Lighting another cigarette, Jaxon let his gaze drift away with the pale blue smoke. His eyes grew hazy.

“I never knew my dad. Mom said he died before I was born.

Mom was sick all the time—coughing blood. When I was twelve she finally passed too.

Orphan. No parents, no relatives, no nothing.

Luckily I was good-looking. Women liked me. I grew up fast.

I slept with the mother of one of my classmates once. First time—clumsy as hell—but I still walked away with two thousand bucks.”

As he spoke, Jaxon swept his right hand across his forehead, brushing back a few strands of hair. But Felix, sitting right beside him, clearly saw it was a cover—a way to discreetly wipe away the tear that had gathered at the corner of his eye.

He took a long drag.

“The moment I held that money, I knew—I was destined to be a bad person forever.

What kind of future does a twelve-year-old who learns to live off women have?

After that I just… went wild. Half for fun, half for cash.

I once stripped naked, climbed into a gift box, and had someone deliver me to a rich girl as a birthday present. That same night I took her virginity.

I was the semi-official lover of rich housewives.

There was even one woman who made a deal: after I turned eighteen, I’d get her pregnant—no protection—because her husband was impotent and she wanted a kid as pretty as me. She’d pay me a fortune.

The price? I disappear from that child’s life forever. Never let them know I exist.”

Felix only half-understood, but he was already frozen in shock.

After a long silence, his lips finally moved.

“If… if you have any trouble… you can ask the police.”

The sudden, innocent remark stunned even Jaxon.

He turned slowly and really looked at Felix’s earnest little face.

Then he burst into laughter—genuine, helpless, joyful laughter that soon turned to tears streaming down his cheeks.

“What a line! ‘When in trouble, call the police!’ Pure gold!”

He raised his bottle again.

“Come on—let’s drink to that old 70s nursery rhyme that died in the 80s and is pure bullshit in the 90s!”

**Clink!**

Paper cup met beer bottle again.

After chugging the whole thing, Jaxon toyed with the empty bottle like a weapon and said,

“Don’t let the three-and-a-half years fool you. I’ve lost count of how many beds I’ve been in, how many times I sold myself.

But there’s one woman I truly like.

A year ago I swore to her face—I’d marry her someday.

And I’ve never even touched her.”

“But… just now on the phone you said you’re only fifteen and a half,” Felix said carefully.

“A year ago you were fourteen and a half…

My teacher said you can’t get married before you’re eighteen. Even at eighteen it’s considered too early…”

This kid really knows how to make me laugh nonstop, Jaxon thought.

“Some people are still clueless kids even at thirty,” he said.

“Me? I’ve seen too much, tasted too much bitterness and sweetness.

Even at fourteen I already knew—Sierra, even though she’s five years older and trapped in a wheelchair for life, is the only person who ever truly cared about me.

No games. No ulterior motives.

I’ll never find anyone more genuine, purer, better than her.

I, Jaxon Kane, refuse to be the i***t who only realizes what he had after he loses it.

I refuse to believe the grass is greener on the other side!”

“From the day I swore to marry Sierra, even though I still lived off women, I always gave half my earnings to her—to save for us.

I had it all planned out: when I turn eighteen, she’ll be twenty-three.

I’d cut off every other woman, open a little flower shop with her.

Nothing big. Just enough to support her and our kid.

Any flowers that didn’t sell that day—I’d bring the prettiest ones home to her.

To the most beautiful, loveliest goddess in my heart—even after marriage, that wouldn’t change.

I can’t even imagine what her smile will look like when I hand them to her…

Because the happiness will probably just melt me on the spot.”

In Jaxon’s quiet narration, Felix could clearly see it—the dreamy, intoxicated glow of someone lost in the sweetest possible future.

But Felix himself shivered.

He understood now.

A truly happy person wouldn’t be sitting here.

Without shattered dreams, without a broken heart, without love destroyed—how could a fifteen-and-a-half-year-old suddenly kill someone?

How could he bear to kill?

**SMASH!**

Jaxon suddenly leaped to his feet and brought the beer bottle crashing down on the corpse’s head.

Glass flew everywhere.

Then he began kicking—relentless, furious kicks.

“Tell me! Tell me! You’re the deputy mayor’s son!

You never lacked women throwing themselves at you.

You could change beds every damn night if you wanted!

So why—why did you have to r**e Sierra?

Why did you force a girl who’ll be in a wheelchair forever to jump from the seventh floor?

You’ve got everything—food, clothes, people kissing your ass!

Why did you have to steal the one person I cared about most—the one person who was supposed to be my happiness?!”

After seventy or eighty kicks, Jaxon suddenly threw his head back and let out a long, mournful howl—like a wounded wolf.

Tears finally carved two glistening trails down his face.

“He’s Liam Yates—deputy mayor’s son!

He’s got witnesses lined up to prove his innocence.

He doesn’t need to beg anyone; people will trip over themselves to cover for him.

Against all that, what can a gigolo like me do?

The law can’t touch him.

Even the police—‘call us when you’re in trouble’—can’t touch him!”

Jaxon turned to Felix, eyes bloodshot, voice a raw hiss.

“Little brother, tell me—if it was you facing all this…

Would you swallow it? Live like a coward?

Or would you fight—even if it meant dying horribly, even if it meant being damned to the eighteenth level of hell forever—just to get justice for your woman, for your family?

Would you kill them all for what’s right?!”

Felix shook his head hard.

He didn’t know.

He really didn’t know.

But looking at Jaxon—wild, wounded, eyes full of pain and madness—the eight-

year-old suddenly understood the true meaning behind those earlier words:

“I’m not even afraid to keep living…

So what the hell is there to fear about being shot?”