Shun

  The site looked like a city that had been forgotten by its people. Broken, not touched by time completely.

  Rows of apartment blocks stood half-collapsed, windows spider-webbed with cracks that shimmered faintly in the unstable light of the dungeon’s mana that encompassed the entire area for miles. Entire streets were buckled and warped, as though invisible hands had twisted the ground until it splintered. The air itself was heavy—a saturated density of mana that made every breath feel like dragging in smoke.

  I pulled my collar up against the unnatural chill, my boots crunching across fractured pavement. Around me, a dozen others moved in silence: guild inspectors from Dexus, few government officials, and a handful of rank hunters brought to verify the severity of the gate, much like myself. Everyone was on edge. It wasn’t just the oppressive pressure that made their movements tense—it was the way the gate itself distorted the world.

  At the centre of the ruined district stood the gate.

  It wasn’t a portal in the usual sense, not yet. Instead, it was a wound in space: a spiralling tear of light and shadow, pulsing in rhythm like a colossal heartbeat—it was big enough to be compared to a small house, and from the last report and now seeing it in person, it was growing substantially.

  Each pulse sent a ripple through the air, rattling the broken glass still clinging to windows, and making the earth hum with a faint vibration.

  I held my breath, inching closer to it with a few hunters and inspectors from the guild nearby.

  “Expansion’s accelerated,” one of the inspectors muttered, his voice brittle, face frowning . He held up a device shaped like a lantern that flickered with unstable readings. “At this rate, containment will only hold another seventy-two hours—less, if external mana flow keeps spiking.”

  Another inspector held a tablet, taking the data in real-time and running simulations for a more approximate time. He held his head up, his eyes gauging the rank gate. “Let’s hope it doesn’t—that would be the worst case scenario if it breaks before fully forming.”

  The man beside me was tall and lean, sharp-featured with neatly parted black hair, red at the edges and dark eyes that never seemed to stop scanning the surroundings. His posture was straight, measured, the kind of vigilance you only saw in people who’d lived too long on battlefields.

  Zhao Wenkai exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t just expansion. The damn thing’s eating the district alive. Look.”

  And he was right. My gaze followed his finger to the buildings nearest the gate. Their walls weren’t just collapsing—they were eroding as if the life from them had been altered. The stone looked porous, riddled with holes as if gnawed upon by acid, while shadows pooled unnaturally in the hollows, writhing faintly before fading again.

  I stood near the hunter who had spoken—he was a hunter from China, sent by their government. I looked upon the devastation but said nothing, but the hair on the back of my neck prickled. The sight was too familiar. The distortion of matter. The saturation of mana. The pressure that hung over us like the weight of the sea.

  Since the war had actively started, the appearance of rank gates had become more frequent, keeping everyone on their toes.

  My eyes went to the gate once more, the fissures and anomalies in space growing bigger as we spoke.

  I’d only come to witness a handful of rank gates before—in places where demons had roamed unchecked. And somehow, the instability of mana in unchecked regions was growing faster than we could respond.

  So, we weren’t just at risk of fighting a war against the demons, we also had the threat of the dungeon gates loom over us. It was unfair, but there was nothing we could do but fight and protect.

  “Hunter Shun.”

  The call came from one of the officials, a sharp-faced woman in a dark coat from Dexus. Her legs were long, her figure flowing against the bleak backdrop. “You’re listed as a lead in the advance strike unit. Based on what you’re seeing, how viable is an early incursion?”

  My eyes lingered on the gate. It pulsed again, and for an instant I thought I saw something beyond the tear: a flicker of jagged movement, a silhouette that didn’t belong to any natural creature.

  I took a breath, long enough for a pause. I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, my gaze drifted east for some reason—toward the far edge of the city where the mana’s distortion thinned into hazy distance. Out there, miles away from the gate’s threat, was her shop. A fragile island of warmth and normalcy. The thought of Rachael standing behind that counter, oblivious to this encroaching wound, made my jaw tighten.

  “…It’s not viable,” I said at last, my voice calm but unyielding. “Not yet. Going in now will just feed casualties to it. We’ll have to wait until further stabilization. Watch its behaviour patterns. Then strike cleanly.”

  Some of the hunters nodded in grim agreement. Others bristled, muttering about wasted time. The official only narrowed her eyes, but from her expression I could tell she agreed with what I said.

  “You speak like someone who’s seen this before.”

  I didn’t look at her. My gaze remained fixed on the gate, on the warped skeleton of the district.

  “I have.” I said, feeling the mana move more unstably. This one was no different from the rank gates I’d seen, but something about this time felt different. I was anxious for the first time...and I didn’t know why?

  But, this time around, it was different. Like a warning.

  The group moved on, circling the perimeter, taking measurements, marking down zones where collapse was imminent. I walked with them, but my mind was elsewhere. Every pulse of the gate reminded me of a heartbeat. Every ripple of mana carried with it the faint whisper of inevitability.

  And yet, through it all, my thoughts anchored to that small shop miles away. The way Rachael’s voice softened when she spoke in the late evening. The sight of a yellow iris in her hand, glowing faintly in fading light.

  It was absurd, I thought. Here, before a wound in reality itself, with the air suffocating and the world splitting at its seams— and still, a flower in a woman’s hand burned clearer in my mind than the nightmare in front of me.

  It was truly absurd how I had become. But, whenever I thought of her, I felt different. It was like, she didn’t judge me for who I was.

  Not the hunter, not the man who had made countless mistakes. She saw me for who I was...and somehow, I liked that.

  The small space that I had found, where I could relax.

  I let my thoughts drown for the time being as I ventured deeper into the ruined city with the others, the closer we moved the more dense the mana became.

  ***

  The reports had gone longer than I expected.

  Numbers, models, probabilities—none of it mattered once the gate truly opened, but the officials liked their layers of paper armour. Wenkai and I stuck through the entire session anyway, unlike the other hunters who had left halfway. Pride had a way of turning men into liabilities.

  By the time we stepped out, the weight of the discussion still lingered in the loft. The air outside felt almost fresher by comparison, but the weight of everything ahead pressed heavily on me.

  Wenkai walked beside me, his hands slipped into his coat pockets, posture as straight as if he were still at attention. He had that same measured expression he’d worn the entire inspection: steady, unshaken, the kind of man who could read a battlefield without flinching.

  “You’re not what I expected,” he said as we entered the elevator and descended. His accent clearly coloured by his Chinese lineage, clipped but clear.

  I arched a brow at him. “What were you expecting then?”

  “A loudmouth,” he answered simply. “Someone basking in their own reputation. Most hunters of your calibre are like that.”

  I huffed out a dry laugh. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  “Not a disappointment.” He glanced at me, his sharp eyes carrying the weight of appraisal. “More…refreshing.”

  For a moment, silence stretched between us, filled only by the soft sound of the elevator descending. Then he added, almost casually, “You know Han Shu-hui, don’t you?”

  My eyes flicked to him, measuring the tone. He didn’t sound probing—just curious.

  This might have been the first time we had spoken for this long. I didn’t usually interact with the other hunters, but some did try to spark conversations with me from time to time, and one such was Wenkai.

  “Yes, he’s a friend,” I said.

  “He doesn’t waste his time on people, but he’s not that open with everyone either,” Wenkai replied, as though that explained everything. Then, after a pause, his lips curved into the faintest smirk. “So, it makes sense. He did mention you when he was back home for a while.”

  “That so,” I replied faintly.

  Wenkai gave me an approving nod. “Yeah, since I know him, he’s an airhead, and doesn’t like to do much except for training. But, he called you a friend, so I was curious what kind of person you were, Shun.”

  “I see,” I simply said that and went silent.

  By the time we reached the reception hall, the tension that had clung to us since the gate site had finally loosened. The lobby was wide, polished marble catching faint reflections of the mana lamps overhead. Hunters milled about, some chatting, others moving with grim focus toward training facilities deeper inside the guild complex.

  That’s when I heard it.

  “Hello!”

  A voice warm and clear cut through the ambient noise.

  I turned to see a man with tanned skin and a gentle face, standing near the edge of the hall. He raised a hand in greeting, smile kind without being forced. His dark eyes carried no sharpness, no hidden intent—just openness.

  “Hunter Shun,” he said, his tone friendly. “It’s good to meet you again.”

  I gave a short nod, surprised by his initiative. “Likewise.”

  Youssef had been one of the few who greeted me every time we met or saw each other. I don’t think it was due to some ulterior motive in mind. He was kind and humble but a strong and fierce mage when in combat. He was a man from Palestine, a small country but having one of the most fierce hunters in the world.

  Wenkai inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement but stayed silent, his neutrality intact.

  Before I could say more, another presence made itself known.

  “You really are the gloomy type, aren’t you?”

  The voice was female, lilting with amusement. I turned to see her lounging casually against one of the marble pillars, arms crossed. Platinum hair caught the lamplight, tied back in a careless ponytail, and her piercing blue eyes seemed to glow with mischief. Anya Volkova.

  I had heard about her—an rank hunter from Russia. She was strong, and a combatant who fought in the heart of the battlefield every time she was dispatched.

  She pushed herself off the pillar and walked closer, tilting her head as she sized me up. “Every time I see you, you’ve got that storm-cloud expression. You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you enjoy looking like the world is ending around you.”

  I gave her a flat look. “You’re saying that like it isn’t.”

  That earned me a laugh, sharp and bright, echoing across the hall. A few hunters nearby glanced over, startled. Anya didn’t care.

  “See?” She said, pointing at me as if she’d proven something. “That’s funny. You’re so serious it circles back around to comedy.”

  I shook my head, but the corner of my mouth betrayed me, twitching upward. “If that’s your idea of humour, you must be very easily entertained.”

  “Oh, I am,” she said proudly. “It’s one of my best qualities.”

  Wenkai gave a quiet, almost imperceptible exhale—something between a sigh and a chuckle. Youssef, meanwhile, simply smiled at the exchange, as though watching friends he’d known for years.

  “I’m glad we’ll be fighting alongside one another,” Youssef said, his voice steady, carrying an undercurrent of sincerity. “Strength matters, yes. But so does the spirit behind it. And from what I’ve heard…you carry both.”

  Compliments always sat strangely with me. I looked away, pretending to focus on the line of hunters heading toward the training wing. “We’ll see.”

  Youssef dipped his head, not pressing further. Anya, of course, had no such restraint.

  “You know,” she said, circling us like a wolf with far too much energy, “I can already tell this subjection’s going to be interesting. Plus, if we all are put into the same team, the stoic Chinese sentinel, the kind-hearted mage, the brooding lead…and me, the eccentric Russian who’s going to keep you all from turning into statues.”

  Wenkai finally spoke again, dry as stone. “Or drive us mad. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.”

  Anya grinned, flashing teeth. “Either way, you’ll remember me.”

  I let out a breath, half exasperated, half amused. Somehow, despite the looming shadow of the gate, despite the suffocating pressure that still clung to my chest, this—standing here with them—felt almost…normal now.

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  For the first time all day, the weight eased, even if only a little.

  But somehow, I remembered Rachael through it all. Her words that day: ‘you should smile more’.

  Perhaps, I had started to change after that. Not being irritated by talking with strangers like I used to.

  And even in this moment, I was wondering what she was doing. Hoping to see her smile at me.

  After our short conversation, we all bide each other goodbye, Youssef and Anya went to the training wing inside the guild premises, and Wenkai followed me out of the guild and disappeared into the streets with a wave of his hand.

  I gave him a final look as I decided to venture into the city once again, trying to get some fresh air.

  That’s when my phone rang, I pulled it out of my pocket and saw the person calling...

  I hesitated, my breath caught as I stood there, amongst the moving crowd, it was Fujimoto.

  Ever since that day, when we had coincidentally met at the graveyard when I had went to visit Master’s grave, I had ran away, not being able to meet him.

  There hadn’t been a day when he didn’t call me since Master’s death, sometimes I did pick up, but I wasn’t able to say anything, just hearing his voice was enough to reassure me.

  Just like that day, I had been ignoring Fujimoto since Master’s death, I had met him during the funeral, even Morris had told me to take some time off, but I wasn’t able to do it.

  Back then, I’d thought I would go insane if I didn’t stay and fight. I didn’t have the courage to look Fujimoto in the eye—I was afraid, still am, what if he despised me?

  I knew, it might be a lie to protect myself, or just a way to hate myself for my own inadequacy.

  The phone kept ringing, until it stopped and I looked up at the sky, filled with soft clouds that slowly moved, the cold wind kissed my skin as I pulled my collar up.

  I sighed...my legs moved slowly as I marched forward, I didn’t have a place in mind, where I wanted to go, but somehow my feet carried me to that place.

  I wasn’t supposed to stop.

  I told myself that a dozen times when I returned to the street after being away for a few days—getting attached to this place was something I didn’t want to do.

  I always thought when I passed by even on an errand, should I stop by and say hello? What if I was disturbing her? Wouldn’t it a burden?

  My legs should’ve just carried me past the flower shop, like they had before, but they didn’t. They slowed. Hesitated. Drifted closer, almost on their own.

  And that’s when I heard them. Two men leaning against the corner wall, close enough to the shop that their words drifted right to me.

  “…shame someone like her wastes herself in a little shop,” one of them snickered, the mirth is his voice clear.

  “Yeah. Bet she’d be worth more in other ways,” the other added, voice low but slimy. “With those looks, she could catch any guys attention.” His words turned uglier as I listened.

  The kind of words that make you want to wash your ears with ash.

  I froze, my jaw tightening before I even realized it. Normally, I ignore this sort of filth. The world’s full of it. People with tongues sharper than their spines, spitting venom where they know they won’t be challenged. Usually, I’d keep walking. People like that aren’t worth the energy.

  But this time…I couldn’t.

  The anger that swelled in me wasn’t clean or righteous—it was messy, hot, and confusing. I didn’t even stop to question it. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of them, my shadow cutting across their little sneering circle.

  “Say that again.” I grunted, my voice bristled enough that even I was surprised to hear it.

  They looked at me, blinking, then laughing. One of them—an awakened, though nothing impressive—puffed up his chest. “And who the hell are you?” He tried to make his voice sound more intimidating, his friend beside him gaining up on me.

  I don’t remember answering, not even properly looking at them. What I remember is the feel of my fist slamming into his jaw, the shock in his eyes, and the way the other scrambled before my boot caught him in the gut. The crowd noticed quick—whispers, gasps, people backing up like rats from a fire.

  I didn’t care. My chest burned, my fists moving faster than I could register from my eyes. My entire body felt like it was burning with anger.

  I don’t know how long it lasted. My knuckles stung, the skin splitting, blood smearing. At some point, the hunter landed a wild hit—a sharp crack across my face that split my nose. My vision flashed white for a moment, the copper taste of blood rushing down my throat. But it only made me angrier.

  My mana worked, and I put more force into my fist.

  I grabbed him, slammed him down, my fist raised again—

  “Shun!”

  Her voice.

  The world stopped. Everything stopped. No sound other than hers heard.

  My fist hovered inches from his face, trembling, before my eyes slid to her. Rachael was there in the crowd, her hands gripping my wrist. Her face—horrified, worried, confused all at once.

  And just like that, all that fire inside me collapsed in on itself. I looked down and finally saw what I had done to the man. His face was bloodied, swollen and eyes looking at me with a terrified expression.

  I lowered my fist, suddenly aware of the crowd, of the two men scrambling to their feet, throwing curses as they fled, before anyone could call the authorities. Didn’t even matter—I wasn’t looking at them anymore. Only her.

  She pulled me back, away from the gawking eyes, into the safety of her shop. The bell rang faintly as she shut the door behind us, shutting out the noise.

  The quiet hit harder than the punch had. I sat down on the seat near the corner, my eyes glued to the floor.

  “What were you thinking?” She demanded, her voice sharp. Not the gentle tone she usually carried, but edged for once. She was angry. At me. And this was the first time I couldn’t look her in the eyes.

  I couldn’t answer. I just sat there, blood dripping from my nose, my hands raw and aching.

  She had seen the violent side of me. Something I never wanted to show her, something I wish I could erase, but, I couldn’t do it now. I was afraid—what if she started to hate me for this?

  She clicked her tongue, muttering under her breath as she gathered her magic. The faint glow of her healing brushed over my knuckles, soothing the sting, closing the cuts. She pressed a handkerchief into my palm, nodding at my nose. “Clean yourself.”

  Her voice came out rushed, worry, anger, it was there all at once, but her expression was sad, mixed with her anger as she patched my injuries.

  I did, silently, my thoughts a tangle I couldn’t put into words.

  Finally, she spoke again, softer this time. “Why, Shun? Why would you fight like that?”

  I hesitated. The truth burned on my tongue, but saying it felt…impossible. My chest tightened, the words scraping the back of my tongue.

  “They were speaking about you,” I said at last, my voice low, eyes looking into hers. “Vulgar things.”

  Her eyes narrowed, not out of gratitude, but irritation. “So what? Are you going to throw fists at every person who says something bad about me? Like some thug on the street?” Her arms crossed, her gaze pinning me. “What am I to you, that you’d lose control like that?”

  The question hit harder than the man’s punch.

  What was she to me?

  I opened my mouth, closed it, then opened it again. The words wouldn’t come out clean. My chest felt too heavy, my thoughts too loud. All I could manage was, “I…I did it because I…”

  But nothing more. My mind was in jeopardy...what was she to me, that it made me take that course of action? That it made me lose control for a moment.

  I...

  She knelt slightly, crouching so her eyes met mine, so I couldn’t avoid them. Her expression softened, but the weight in her voice stayed. “Don’t ever do that again. Please.”

  I looked at her, her closeness, the faint smell of flowers clinging to her. My knuckles still ached, but not as much as the silence between us. I lowered my head.

  For the first time in years, I wasn’t sure who I was angrier at—the men outside, or myself.

  Rachael’s healing glow dimmed as she leaned back, her brow still furrowed. “You’re reckless, but...I don’t want you to get hurt over something so trivial.” She muttered, but her hands didn’t leave mine. Her thumb brushed over my knuckles, slow and absent, like she hadn’t realized she was doing it.

  Her touch anchored me, and that was the problem. For years I’d kept people at arm’s length, let them drift past like shadows on the street. But her…the moment she grabbed my wrist out there, everything stopped.

  I should’ve pulled away, my mind knew I wanted to. Instead, I stayed still, staring at the way her fingers held mine so carefully—like I was something fragile, not something dangerous. That made my chest tighten, my eyes felt heavy, my breath caught for a moment.

  “I didn’t mean to…” The words slipped out before I could stop them. My throat felt dry, my chest tight. “I just…when I heard them—what they said about you—I couldn’t—”

  Her eyes flicked up to mine, sharp, searching. “Shun…”

  The sound of my name in her voice—soft this time, almost pleading—pulled the fight out of me more than any blow could.

  I clenched my jaw, looked away. The blood on my hands was dry now, but it still felt fresh, raw, ugly. How could I explain it? How could I tell her that I wasn’t angry for myself, but for her—that it was the thought of her name in their mouths that had set me off?

  “I don’t want you to look at me like that,” I whispered finally, like some part of me had finally peeled off to reveal itself to her. My voice cracked at the edges.

  “Like what?” She asked, her voice soothing at the edges.

  “Like I’m someone you need to be afraid of.”

  Her silence stretched, and when I dared to glance at her, I didn’t see fear. No flinching, no hesitation. Just sadness. And something else, something I couldn’t bring myself to name—something that made it harder to breathe.

  The shop was too quiet, the faint tick of the clock, the smell of flowers—lilac, maybe jasmine—wrapped around us, heavy, almost suffocating.

  She was too close, her hand still on mine, her eyes holding me in place.

  My hand almost moved, trying to reach her cheek, but I stopped myself.

  I thought about saying it—that maybe it wasn’t just anger that had driven me to fight, but something else, something I couldn’t name without breaking everything between us.

  I wanted to tell her, that when she called out to me, it felt like she had pulled me back from a cliff I hadn’t even realized I was standing on.

  But I swallowed it down. Not yet.

  Rachael gave my hand a squeeze before finally letting go. “Then don’t give me a reason to,” she said, standing. Her words were firm, but her touch lingered in my memory long after it was gone.

  I sat there in the quiet, staring at the floor, fighting the urge to reach for her again.

  After a moment, I straightened, not sure what to do now. What’s done is done. You can’t change the past, but only face what is ahead of you...

  Rachael stopped and she gestured to me. “You should go clean the blood from your hands and face.” She said, pointing at my knuckles.

  Rachael didn’t say anything more, just nodded toward the back of the shop. “Upstairs. There’s a washroom—clean yourself up.”

  I followed, my steps slow, keeping just behind her. I’d never been past the counter before. The shop was all I’d ever known of her world—the shelves of flowers, the faint glow of her magic—but here, beyond it, I saw more. And for some reason, I wanted to.

  A narrow stairwell tucked away behind the shelves, leading up to a space I’d never imagined.

  The second floor was simple, lived-in—a person could easily live here. The faint scent of flowers followed us up, softer here, mixing with something warmer, homelier. She opened a door for me, set a folded towel on the edge of a basin. For a moment, our hands almost brushed as she passed it, and I had to force myself not to hold onto it longer than necessary.

  “Don’t take too long,” she said, but her voice had softened, less sharp than before.

  I caught my reflection in the small mirror above the basin. Blood streaked across my cheek, my nose swollen, my hands stained. For a moment I didn’t see myself—I saw the man she must have seen in the street. Violent. Uncontrolled. Someone she shouldn’t have to care for.

  And yet she did. That care had somehow started to grow on me, to the point that I felt different. Something I didn’t know what to call...

  I splashed water over my face, trying to wash the blood away, but no matter how much I scrubbed, it still felt like it clung to me.

  I splashed water over my face again and again, each splash of water more rushed, forceful, full of anger and anxiety.

  I clenched my jaw, I looked at my reflection...the blood gone, but all I saw were my hollow eyes, my hair messy, unwashed and long enough to be pulled into a ponytail.

  My appearance...it looked unbecoming of me.

  For the first time in years, I thought of what I used to look like. How Fujimoto used to cut my hair, how I always cared...but, the guilt still ate away at me.

  I sighed, taking the folded towel and wiping my face with it. I exited the washroom, closing the door as I leaned against the wall, the towel pressed against my face, lowered a little so I could see the ceiling above me, then down the stairway, my mind preoccupied with everything that had happened.

  Without another thought, I went down from the second floor, the only noise accompanied me was the sound of my boots clicking against the wooden steps.

  I came close to the exit and stood there for a moment, watching her move as one customer came after the other. She was busy as usual, guiding the people over which flowers to choose from , laughing with a child that came with its mother.

  “Isn’t she a kind girl?”

  I turned my head toward the counter. Asteria sat there, legs crossed, her eyes following the girl as though she were watching a gentle flame dance in the wind.

  I didn’t answer right away. My gaze lingered on the way she laughed with that child, her hands brushing through the flowers as if they bloomed brighter just because of her touch.

  “She is,” I finally said, my voice quieter than I intended. I didn’t deny it, and Asteria’s probing only made the knot inside me loosen.

  Asteria tilted her head, studying me. “You’ve been standing there for a while, watching her. That’s not like you.” She said, her words clear, but there was no teasing, nor amusement in it today.

  I leaned back against the wall, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know what it is. Maybe…” I paused, my gaze lingering on the faint outline of her figure across the counter. “…maybe it’s just been a long time since something’s made me stop.”

  “Then maybe that’s what you are looking for,” Asteria replied softly. “Something new. Something alive.”

  I frowned, dragging a hand through my messy hair, suddenly aware of how unkempt I looked. “Alive? Do I look that desperate to look for something like that?”

  Her lips curved faintly, but her eyes stayed steady on me. “You don’t have to look desperate, boy. Desperation isn’t what I see. What I see is someone who’s tired of being dead inside.” Her words were firm, but not unkind. “But, even I have realized something from living a long life—there are some things you cannot deny even if you try to bury them in the deepest pits of your heart.”

  Her tone shifted at the end, her eyes softened at the edges, a kind smile curved at her lips, and I didn’t know how to respond. “Each step, how trivial may it be, brings us closer to what we truly feel. Even if it’s just one step closer.”

  I looked at Asteria for a moment, somehow, the realization made me smile, it was tiny, but it was there, then back at the girl, her laughter still echoing faintly in the shop as she crouched down and talked with a little girl with round cheeks.

  One step closer.

  Maybe that was enough for now.

  Slowly, I approached the table near the corner and sat there, my usual tiny space where I existed in Rachael’s world.

  My eyes followed her even as I sat down, these feelings inside me were growing at an alarming rate and I couldn’t seem to stop them...

  But there was always something that stopped me. Maybe, it was the reason to not drag her into my world. I liked this shining and bright place full of warmth, but the dark and gloomy world I existed in—full of death and tragedy, I was afraid of dragging her into it.

  As I was lost in thought, I heard the faint clink of porcelain. Rachael set a cup of tea in front of me, sliding it closer without a word. I stared at it, then at her. She’d remembered.

  That day, she’d said she would bring me herbal tea—and of all things, she’d remembered that. A small, ordinary detail. Yet somehow, it didn’t feel ordinary at all.

  It left my chest with something heavy, but soothing.

  The faint steam from the herbal tea curled in the air, carrying a soft, calming fragrance that seemed to quiet the tension still coiled in my body. Rachael had set the cup before me without a word, her hands steady, her smile gentler than it had any right to be after the chaos earlier. She always did that—smoothed edges I didn’t even realize were sharp.

  Asteria chattered near the counter with a customer, setting down a basket she had brought with her, the warmth of her presence filling the room as easily as the scent of fresh herbs.

  Rachael busied herself with arranging a small tray, her brow furrowed in that quiet concentration she had whenever she wanted something to be just right.

  It was nothing extraordinary. Just a cup of tea. Just her waiting for me to come down.

  And yet, the simplicity of it unsettled me more than any blade raised against me.

  I wasn’t supposed to linger like this. Not here, not with her. The longer I stayed, the harder it became to draw the line between duty and…whatever this was.

  I wrapped my fingers around the cup, more for grounding than warmth.

  Taking a steady sip, smelling the aroma and letting the tea travel down my throat...

  For the first time since Master’s death, I felt peace. Fleeting, yes, but real enough that I thought—maybe—I could try to move on. It would be difficult, but somehow, I felt closer to that step than I ever had before.

  Peace felt foreign, almost undeserved. But it was there, warm in the cup she had handed me.

  After I was done, I put the cup down, and decided to leave. So much had happened in one day, and perhaps, staying anymore would put her on the spot.

  I rose from the seat and walked closer to the door, but I could feel a sharp gaze burning into my back. I stopped just inches away from it as I looked back.

  She’d be angry again if I left without a word. I had learned that much since last time.

  A strange thought slipped in, unbidden: It would be easier if she were just like everyone else.

  But she wasn’t.

  And that was the problem.

  I walked closer to her, she was tending to a bouquet on the opposite side of the counter, Asteria gone to the back.

  She looked up from the bouquet, her eyes now fully focused on me. She didn’t say anything, but her whole attention was on me.

  I just looked at her azure eyes for a moment longer, then spoke. “Thanks for the tea, and...” I almost left it at that. Almost let silence answer for me again. But her eyes kept me there. “See you tomorrow, Rachael.”

  She froze for a split second, but a genuine smile painted her lips, her eyes softened. “Yes. See you tomorrow, Shun.”

  ***

  After I returned to my hotel suite provided by the guild, I entered the bathroom, took off all my clothes and entered the shower.

  I nudged the sleek steel shower lever down, and warm water streamed from above, drowning me from head to my toes. The warm water felt refreshing to the touch and I took my time for once.

  After a few more minutes, I nudged the lever again, and the water stopped flowing from the shower. I walked out and wore the bathrobe, taking a towel from the shelf and wiping my hair dry, my eyes tracing my figure displayed in the wide mirror above the basin.

  My body was riddled with scars and wounds from the many battles I’d fought. Something about it unsettled me for some reason. Looking at myself, and then remembering about her, the lingering warmth of her fingers on my knuckles.

  I took a breath, the steam from the shower clattered as I walked out and took a seat on the wide bed.

  I laid there for a few minutes, looking up at the ceiling, the room painted faintly by the approaching evening light coming from the windows.

  I looked for my phone, finding it laid beside me. I took it and unlocked it as I searched for a number.

  I hesitated for a moment, whether to call or not. For once, I wanted to do it, I didn’t want to run away.

  I took a breath, steeling my resolve as I tapped the screen and dialled the number...

  I waited as the phone rang, it continued for longer than I expected, my resolve faltering the longer it rang.

  He wasn’t picking him.

  But just as I was about to cut the call, it connected and a warm and gentle voice came from the other side.

  “Shun...”