What could be better than waking up in a random bed?
A comfy one, to be exact. Wrapped in a blanket so fluffy it felt illegal. A ceiling that looked way too nice to be a tavern. And not a single trace of the usual sting of alcohol in the air.
Short answer—nothing. This was exactly what he wanted.
Except for the part where his head felt like someone had bashed it with something between a tree trunk and a small building. He couldn't quite narrow it down.
He rubbed his eyes. Vision still blurry. Everything soft around the edges.
But he felt calm. The rage that had been boiling through his blood—gone. Drained out of him like someone had dumped a bucket of freezing water over his head while he was out.
He rubbed the back of his neck. Head still throbbing.
"You're awake."
"Ahh—" He flinched so hard he nearly fell off the bed, scrambling backward until his back slammed against the wall.
Nora. Sitting in a chair. Arms crossed. Like she'd been there for hours.
"What are you doing here? Do you not know what privacy is?"
"I was told to look after you," she said coldly, giving him the kind of look that suggested 'looking after' and 'ending' were interchangeable in her vocabulary.
"What happened to me?" He rubbed the back of his head, wincing. "Why do I feel like I was at an all-you-can-drink party?"
Her expression shifted. The coldness cracked, replaced by something closer to confusion.
"You don't remember anything?"
Shiro thought for a moment, pressing his palm against his temple, willing the headache to stop.
"I remember feeling…"
His eyes widened. The color drained from his face. The throbbing pain he'd been fighting suddenly didn't matter—shoved aside as the memory crashed back into him like a wave he wasn't ready for.
"Nora, there is something very dangerous up on that mountain. I felt it." His voice dropped. "And somehow, something in my mind snapped. It took something from me. I don't know what—but something important."
Then it hit him. The masked man's words.
"Help me kill the god of the island."
The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
Nora stared at him. The confusion was gone. What replaced it was the look someone gives a person they're genuinely worried has lost their mind.
And Shiro did not like that look.
'Please believe me.'
She leaned in. Way too close. His face went red instantly—a reaction he was getting really tired of having around her.
Her hand pressed against his forehead, checking his temperature with the back of her palm. Then she paused. Tilted her head. Squinted.
"Did you always have red eyes and white hair?"
'What?'
He glanced up at his hair. White. His disguise had dropped without him noticing.
"They're pretty," she said softly.
And that did not help. His face went from red to furnace. He shoved her back gently, or not so gently—and forced the disguise back into place. Hair darkened. Eyes shifted.
Nora just chuckled. Like watching him panic was the highlight of her morning.
He needed to change the subject. Immediately.
"Nora—why were you in the red light district?" A question that had been bothering him for a while.
The chuckling stopped.
A beat passed. Then her voice dropped to almost a whisper. The kind of whisper a child uses when telling a secret they know they shouldn't.
"Don't tell my father." She glanced at the door. "But I was following someone."
Shiro paused. Let the pieces connect. Then asked quietly, like he already knew the answer.
"Was this person wearing a white mask?"
The shock on her face told him everything.
"How—how did you know that?"
He grabbed her shoulder without thinking. Pulled himself closer than he should have. But the question burning in his chest didn't care about personal space.
"What do you know about them? Tell me."
She blinked at his hand. Then at his face. Something in his expression must have told her this wasn't the time to push back.
"Not much." Her voice went low. Careful. "They're enemies of the clan. Dangerous ones. They've killed four captains already." A pause. "And there are rumors—that they're not human. That the masks aren't just to hide their faces."
She looked at him.
"They're hiding what they are."
Shiro leaned back. Let it all sit.
Ten captains. The strongest fighters the clan had. Not street thugs. Not low-level grunts. Captains. And the masked group had already taken out four of them.
That wasn't random violence. That was a message. Loud and clear. 'We can reach your best. And your best wasn't enough.'
Kill nobodies and the world shrugs. Kill captains and the world listens.
'Wait—did they think I was one of them?'
The thought caught him off guard. He looked at Nora, confusion spilling across his face.
"Hold on. Why were you following a dangerous group like that?"
She went quiet. Her hand drifted to her pocket. Slowly, she pulled something out and held it in her open palm.
A ring.
"He dropped it." Her voice was careful. Measured. "I followed him because I thought it was you." She met his eyes. "That's when I ran into you."
Shiro stared at the ring.
And let out a broken chuckle.
The mark was still on his finger. Faint. Stubborn. He'd completely forgotten about it.
A gift from her. Years ago. A ring she'd placed on his finger with a seriousness that didn't match how young they were. And a promise he'd made—never take it off.
He broke that promise. Not on purpose. Dying just had a way of making you forget the small things.
His eyes drifted to her hand. To her finger.
It was still there. Hers. After all this time.
She'd ripped it off in fury and hurled it across the arena the day he lost to her.
Shiro looked at her. 'Even after she thought I was dead. She still kept it.'
His gaze drifted back to the ring and instinctively reached for the ring in her palm.
But her fingers closed around it before he could. And she pulled her hand back.
"Shiro."
A pause. Short. But heavy enough to bend the air between them.
"That day—if I was there with them, facing you—would you have—"
The words stopped. She couldn't finish. Or wouldn't.
But it didn't matter. Shiro knew what she was asking.
And he'd be lying if he said it hadn't crossed his mind. In that state—rage-blind, shattered, barely human—would he have stopped?
Would he have recognized her face in time?
Or would he have driven his blade through her chest without a second thought?
The answer sat in his stomach like a stone.
Because he really didn't know.
"I don't know, Nora. Maybe." He paused. The words tasted like ash. "I was angry. My mind—everything—shattered. I was broken." Another pause. Longer. Heavier. "And in that state, I probably would have killed you without a second thought."
The silence that followed was the loudest thing he'd ever heard.
She stood up. Walked to the door. And didn't look back once.
He watched her go.
And didn't say a word.
Because he didn't have the right.
He lay back down. Arm draped over his eyes. The ceiling disappeared behind the darkness of his own sleeve.
The aloneness crept back in. Familiar. Patient. Like it had been waiting outside the door this whole time.
And this time it brought friends.
'She's gone.'
'Good. That's what you do, isn't it? Drive everyone away.'
'You told her you'd kill her. Your only friend.'
'Monster.'
'That's what you are. That's what you've always been.'
'Your father knew it. That's why he threw you away.'
'The clan knew it. That's why they looked at you like filth.'
'Even Rei knew it. He just felt sorry for you.'
'Nobody loves you, Shiro. Nobody ever did. And nobody ever will. Because the moment anyone gets close enough to see what you really are—'
'A monster playing human.'
'You don't deserve her.'
'You were born alone. You'll die alone.'
He pressed his arm harder against his eyes.
The voices didn't stop.
"Shut up. All of you."
Silence. Instant. Like even the voices knew when he meant it.
Then—a sound. Faint. Wrong. A scream swallowed halfway through, like someone had pressed a hand over it before it could finish.
He didn't think.
His body moved, jumping off the bed. Dashed through the door. Into the night air.
And there he was. The masked man. One hand wrapped around Nora's mouth. Holding her like she was nothing.
Shiro's expression didn't shift into anger. It went past it. Straight into something flat and cold.
"Bad timing." His voice came out low. Dead. "I'm in a really awful mood."
His eyes scanned the area. Right side of the main house. Dark. Silent. Nobody around.
"Let her go. Or I scream loud enough to bring every captain in this building down on your head."
The masked man didn't flinch. "Do that, and her neck snaps before the first door opens."
Nora's eyes burned above his fingers. Furious. Helpless.
"What do you want?" Shiro asked.
"You."
Simple. Clean. Like ordering a drink.
"Fine." No hesitation. There was no bargaining."She goes. I stay."
"Walk forward. Slowly. Nothing clever."
He walked. Each step deliberate. Measured. And as the masked man's grip on Nora loosened, Shiro passed her. Close enough that their shoulders almost touched.
He looked at her. Just for a second. And smiled.
Just then he noticed the man crushed a shard in his palm. It twisted, warped, collapsed into a dark orb. And as his arm swung down to shatter it against the ground, every instinct in Shiro's body screamed at once.
Without any warning, he shoved Nora away. Hard.
As the orb hit the ground.
The world spun. Folded in on itself. Everything went sideways for a heartbeat, sky trading places with the ground, light bending in directions it shouldn't—before snapping back.
Still.
Weirdly, everything looked exactly the same. Same courtyard. Same dark sky. Nora standing three feet away, catching her balance.
But something was wrong.
The air felt thinner. Emptier. Like the world had been copied but whoever made the copy forgot to include the soul.
"Shiro?!" She whipped around. Eyes wild. Searching. "Where are you?! Shiro!"
She was looking right at him.
Right through him.
'She can't see me.'
"Shiro!"
Her voice cracked. She spun in circles. Reaching for air where he used to be.
He was right there. Close enough to touch her. And she had no idea.
He turned to the masked man. Slow.
"What did you do?"
The mask stared back. Blank. Empty. Revealing nothing.
"Let's begin."