Disclaimer: not mine.

A/N: No one knows the depths of my sorrow that ToG does not have the adoration, the following it deserves, the first couple chapters are the deepest and saddest sh** I've ever seen from a manga/manhwa. Expect more drabbles and introspection because- Koon, Baam.

IIIIII

"These people," Koon mutters to Baam in disgust, pressed in close shoulder-to-shoulder in a teetering rickshaw, "they're fools, all of them."

"Why do you say that, Mr Koon?" Baam asks. His eyes are the same color and depth as the buildings around them, sand golden and dry, sun-baked cobblestone, deep and gleaming, the very tips of his nose and his ears sunburnt a delicate pink, his neck and the hollow of his throat dashed with freckles, his lips chapped.

Koon has to pause for a moment, but continues, looking out the window at the clear desert sky, "because they don't know they're living in the tower. They think the sun they see is real; they'll live and die in this cage and never know."

"It's still very nice here, isn't it, Mr Koon?" Baam cocks his head to the side, and smiles a little, yellow eyes radiating real, gentle heat, warm as the false sun rising westward. "Maybe they're just happy to have light."

"Simpleton," Koon scoffs, but it's a biteless insult, and if he sets his hand back down very close to Baam's fingers, and if the motion of the rickshaw presses their knees together, no one was the wiser.

IIIIII

FIN