Romans & histoires District 9 Book

I stepped outside, feeling the river breeze sweep across my face, when my phone buzzed. It was a text from an unfamiliar number. It said, “I’m sorry.” I didn’t reply. Instead, I deleted the message, flagged down a taxi, and got in. Outside the window, neon lights streamed by in a blur. The city that never sleeps glowed bright and alive. Just like life, it never stopped moving forward.

Eli’s POV Prague felt different in the daylight. The cobbled streets, with their old tales of war and rich history, looked less like a city and more like a maze designed to trap the desperate and hunted. People bustled despite it being so early, people clutching their coats against the cold, none of them knowing—or maybe pretending not to know—that four wounded men had crept into their city the night before. District 9 wasn’t marked on any map. Not officially. It took hours of wandering, asking the wrong people, and pretending we were just tourists before we found an old drunk who muttered, “Ah, yes... behind the train yards... forgotten place... Lazarov is still standing?”

“Okay, came from the other side of the phone, and the line disconnected. Dimitri stands in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, as the city stretches out beyond the glass, alive and slowly stirring. The tall windows let everything in—the soft light of dawn, the quiet shimmer on rooftops, the far-off glint of the harbor. The room itself was calm and uncluttered, modern but warm like it knew not to compete with the view. It felt like the kind of place where time paused just enough for you to breathe, watch, and feel the world waking up. He went to the shower, turning on the water as it cascaded down his body. His posture was still and calm as he freely enjoyed the water, distracting him from