Volume 2: The Rules of Survival in the Underground World
Summary: Isabella offers Jack food and clothing, and shares crucial knowledge about the underground world. Grateful for her kindness, Jack begins to see a glimmer of hope.
Chapter 3: Isabella's Help
The thrill of victory was quickly replaced by hunger and exhaustion. Jack curled up inside a tattered cardboard box, his thin clothes offering little protection against Manhattan's freezing night air. His body shivered uncontrollably, his stomach empty and burning with pain. The dump reeked of rotting food, damp earth, and industrial fumes—an overwhelming stench that made him cough and wince. He needed food, shelter, but more than anything, he needed someone who understood this dark world—a guide who could help him navigate its dangers before he was swallowed whole.
Suddenly, a faint rustling broke the silence of the night. Jack's instincts kicked in instantly, like an animal sensing danger. He sat up slowly, muscles tensed, fingers gripping a broken piece of wood like a weapon, his knuckles white from the effort. He listened carefully, filtering out the wind and distant sirens—until he heard it again: footsteps approaching the box.
"Don't worry, it's just me," came a soft female voice from the shadows—gentle, concerned, like a stream flowing through a barren wasteland.
Jack lowered his makeshift weapon slightly, though caution still lingered in his eyes. He squinted into the darkness, adjusting to the dim moonlight. Standing a few feet away was a slender woman, wrapped in a battered leather jacket too large for her frame. Her hair was tied back into a messy ponytail, strands falling loosely around her face. Dust smudged her cheeks, but beneath it, her features were delicate, her eyes clear and bright—like stars shining through a stormy sky.
"Who are you?" Jack asked warily, his voice hoarse from hunger and fatigue.
"My name is Isabella." She stepped closer, her tone calm, a hint of warmth in her smile. "I saw what happened earlier. You fought well. You're brave."
Jack frowned, unsure of her intentions. In this dog-eat-dog world, kindness often masked ulterior motives. "What do you want?"
Instead of answering, Isabella reached into her coat and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in crumpled wax paper. She held it out gently. "You must be starving. Here, eat this."
Jack hesitated before taking the package. It was warm in his hands. Unwrapping it revealed a grilled sandwich—crispy golden bread, melted cheese, and thin slices of ham. The scent of butter filled his nose, and his stomach growled loudly as he devoured it without hesitation. It was the best thing he had eaten since his fall from grace, a fleeting taste of the life he once knew.
"Thank you," he mumbled between bites, his voice thick with gratitude.
Isabella watched him quietly, her expression soft with empathy. When he finished, licking his fingers clean, she spoke again. "You don't belong here, do you?"
Jack nodded. There was no point in hiding it—her sharp eyes had already seen through him. In places like this, there were only two kinds of people: those who belonged, and those who had nowhere else to go.
"I… I'm lost," he admitted.
A knowing smile crossed Isabella's lips—small, but warm, like sunlight breaking through clouds. "A lot of people are lost in this city. Some find their way. Others…" She paused, looking toward the pile of trash behind them. "Others become part of the waste."
Jack studied her, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "How did you know?"
Her gaze softened, tinged with something deeper. "I've been here a long time. I know how things work. I know the rules—the dirty ones, and the rare beautiful ones. If you need help, I can tell you a few things. Maybe save you some trouble."
He looked at her closely. Young, yet old beyond her years—marked by hardship, shaped by survival. He didn't know if he could trust her, but right now, he had no other choice.
"I want to know how to survive here," Jack said honestly. That was his greatest need.
Isabella nodded. "First, learn to hide yourself. Don't trust anyone easily—especially those who seem overly friendly. They might just be trying to use you."
"I've learned that already," Jack muttered bitterly, thinking of the thugs who had tried to rob him hours ago, their greedy smiles and violent eyes still fresh in his mind.
"Second, learn how to find resources. There's a lot of useful stuff in dumps—you can collect and sell it to the right people. But it takes skill and connections. Not everything has value unless you know how to use it."
She continued, her voice steady and calm. "And most importantly, watch out for the gangs. They control most of the illegal operations here—drugs, smuggling, everything. Cross them, and you won't live to regret it."
Jack listened intently. These weren't just words—they were lessons earned through pain and experience.
"How do you know all this?" he finally asked, unable to imagine how a young woman like her had survived in such a brutal place.
Isabella fell silent for a moment, memories flashing behind her eyes before she answered. "I used to come here often—but not as a homeless person. I was addicted to drugs. I owed money. I did things I'm not proud of just to get by. Eventually, I met people who helped me quit. And through them, I learned how this world works." Her voice carried a quiet sadness, and Jack felt a pang of sympathy.
"Will you help me?" Jack asked, searching her eyes for sincerity.
She hesitated, weighing the risks. Then, slowly, she nodded. "I can help you. But I have limits. I won't be part of anything illegal. And I won't let you hurt others."
"I understand," Jack replied sincerely. Just having someone offer assistance was a gift in this place.
Isabella smiled again, a gentle breeze in a storm. "You're smart. I believe you can make it. But remember—never lose yourself. Don't let survival turn you into a monster."
In the days that followed, Isabella became Jack's guide, teacher, and ally. She showed him where to find food, where to gather valuable items, and how to avoid unnecessary conflicts. She taught him how to read people, how to move unnoticed, how to speak without drawing attention. Like a patient mentor, she walked him through the rules of the underworld. Even managed to find him a slightly cleaner set of clothes, so he wouldn't look quite so pitiful.
She also introduced him to someone known only as Rat—a man who bought anything valuable found in the dump, from scrap metal to electronics. Through Isabella's recommendation, Jack began selling his findings to Rat, earning a modest income. It wasn't much, but it allowed him to buy cheap meals instead of scavenging every night.
For the first time since his fall, Jack felt like he was seeing the world anew. He witnessed the cruelty of desperation, the exploitation, the violence. But he also saw the light in humanity—embodied in Isabella's selfless kindness. He realized that even in the darkest corners of the world, warmth and hope still existed.
Isabella was a beacon in Jack's life. She helped him survive, yes—but more importantly, she reignited his belief that he could rise again. He began to study harder, work harder, search harder. At night, he practiced the skills she taught him. By day, he scavenged with renewed determination, hoping to earn enough to keep moving forward.
He couldn't afford to fail—not after everything. He had to uncover the truth, reclaim his life, and return to Wall Street stronger than ever.
That night, Jack lay curled in a cardboard box once more—but this time, his heart burned with strength. He thought of Isabella's words, her kind smile, her unwavering encouragement. He believed that if he kept pushing forward, one day soon, he would escape this darkness—and step into the dawn.
For himself.
And for Isabella.
He would survive.
And he would find the truth.