The wind whispered softly through the winter trees.
Snow continued to fall in thin, drifting flakes as Sora stood at the edge of the forest path. Ahead of him, the air looked wrong.
Not visibly distorted to ordinary people.
But to someone sensitive to cursed energy, the difference was obvious.
A veil.
An invisible barrier layered carefully across the surrounding land. It was subtle, well-crafted, and designed to keep ordinary people away while allowing specific individuals to pass freely.
Sora exhaled slowly, his breath fogging beneath the grey mask.
"…Alright."
He lifted his hand slightly.
Liquid metal shifted beneath the surface of his sleeve, forming a thin layer over his skin. It responded instantly to his cursed energy, spreading across his body in a faint, invisible coating.
But the metal alone wasn't the key.
The real trick was the energy pattern.
Months ago, while wandering the outskirts of Kyoto, Sora had once encountered a sorcerer outside the city.
The man had worn traditional clothing and carried himself with a quiet arrogance.
More importantly—
His cursed energy had been distinctive.
Sharp.
Refined.
And unmistakably connected to one of the major sorcerer clans.
The Zenin family.
Sora had memorized that energy pattern carefully.
Now he slowly shifted the flow of cursed energy inside his body.
It took concentration.
Not copying it exactly—that would be impossible.
But mimicking the rhythm.
The density.
The way the energy circulated through the body.
Gradually, his aura adjusted.
To anyone observing from within the barrier, his presence would now resemble that of a Zenin member passing through.
Sora stepped forward.
For a brief moment, the veil reacted.
The air rippled faintly.
Then—
Nothing.
He passed through.
The forest on the other side felt quieter.
Different.
The snow-covered path continued deeper into the land before eventually opening into a large estate.
Traditional buildings spread across the property, connected by stone walkways and narrow wooden corridors.
Lanterns glowed softly along the paths.
The Zenin household.
Even from a distance, the structure carried an imposing atmosphere.
Sora remained near the shadows of the trees for a moment, observing.
"…Big."
The place was larger than he had expected.
Multiple buildings.
Training yards.
Storage halls.
Living quarters.
And somewhere inside—
Sorcerers.
Many of them.
Sora carefully lowered his presence further.
The liquid metal coating across his body adjusted automatically, dampening sound and suppressing the faint signals of his cursed energy.
Perfect stealth.
Then he moved.
His footsteps were silent against the snow.
He followed the edges of the property first, keeping close to walls and darker areas where lantern light barely reached.
To his mild surprise—
There were not many guards.
A few servants moved between buildings.
Occasionally a sorcerer walked across a courtyard.
But the patrol presence was lighter than he expected.
Sora tilted his head slightly.
"…Lucky."
Or perhaps the clan simply didn't expect anyone foolish enough to sneak inside.
Either way, it worked in his favor.
He continued moving slowly.
Observation was his main goal tonight.
Understanding how a real sorcerer household operated.
Seeing how they trained.
How they moved.
How they fought.
Minutes passed quietly.
The snow softened most sounds around the estate.
Then—
A noise.
Very faint.
A sharp thud echoed from somewhere deeper inside the compound.
Sora stopped immediately.
Another sound followed.
A rapid movement through the air.
Then the impact of something striking wood.
Training.
He narrowed his eyes slightly.
The sound came from a small courtyard beyond one of the buildings.
More specifically—
From someone practicing alone.
Sora adjusted his cap and began moving again.
Carefully.
Silently.
Each step was placed with precision as he followed the direction of the sound.
The closer he moved, the clearer the noises became.
Footwork on stone.
Quick breaths.
Another sharp strike.
Sora stopped at the corner of a wooden hallway and leaned slightly to the side.
From his hidden position, he could see the courtyard beyond.
Snow rested lightly across the ground.
And in the center of the training yard, a girl stood practicing.
She was not alone.
Another girl was also present.
Except for these two, there was nobody else.
Sora was observing them, trying to remember if they were the right pair.
Snow drifted slowly through the quiet courtyard.
The cold air hung heavy, the falling flakes softening every sound except the repeated thud of wood being struck.
Sora remained hidden at the corner of the hallway, his body still and his presence suppressed beneath the thin veil of liquid metal coating his skin.
In the center of the courtyard, the girl with the ponytail struck the wooden post again.
Thud.
Her knuckles landed hard against the scarred surface.
Again.
Thud.
And again.
Her breathing was steady, but the effort behind each strike was obvious. It wasn't the smooth rhythm of someone practicing casually.
It was forceful and stubborn.
From the wooden veranda, the other girl watched.
She sat quietly with her legs folded beneath her, arms wrapped loosely around her knees. Her short bobcut moved slightly in the winter breeze.
For a long moment, she said nothing.
Then—
"…You're going to hurt your hands again."
The ponytailed girl didn't stop.
Thud.
"They are already hurt."
Her voice was blunt.
Thud.
"That's not the point."
The sitting girl looked down at the ground.
Her voice was quieter now.
"You remember what happened last time."
The strikes slowed slightly.
But they didn't stop.
"Yes."
Another hit.
Thud.
The girl on the veranda watched her silently.
"You're still doing it anyway."
The ponytailed girl finally paused.
Her hand remained pressed against the wooden post.
Snowflakes gathered slowly on her sleeve.
"…Of course I am."
Her voice carried a stubborn calm.
"If I stop, they win."
The girl on the veranda flinched faintly at the word they.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The wind moved gently across the courtyard.
Then the girl with the bobcut sighed softly.
"…You're always like this."
Her eyes stayed on the ground.
"You never learn."
The ponytailed girl turned slightly.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means…"
The sitting girl hesitated.
"…You keep fighting things that won't change."
Her fingers tightened slightly against her sleeves.
"This house… isn't going to change."
Her voice had grown quieter.
"…No matter how hard you train."
The ponytailed girl stared at her.
"They have already decided what we are."
The words came slowly.
"…You know that."
Silence settled again.
The girl standing in the courtyard clenched her fists.
"…I know."
Her voice was low.
"But I'm not going to accept it."
The girl on the veranda finally looked up.
Her eyes held something complicated.
"…Why not?"
"Because they're wrong."
The answer came immediately.
The girl sitting down shook her head slightly.
"You always say that."
Her voice carried a faint exhaustion.
"But they're not the ones suffering because of it."
The words hung in the cold air.
The ponytailed girl didn't respond right away.
"…You think I don't know that?"
Her voice had hardened.
"I know exactly what this house is like."
The girl on the veranda looked away.
"…Then stop making it harder."
The ponytailed girl froze.
"What?"
The sitting girl hugged her knees slightly tighter.
"When you fight them… when you refuse to listen…"
Her voice grew faint.
"They take it out on you."
A pause.
"…And sometimes on me too."
The courtyard fell silent.
Snow continued drifting gently downward.
The ponytailed girl lowered her hands slowly.
"…I know."
The girl on the veranda shook her head.
"Then why keep doing it?"
Her voice trembled slightly now.
"Why can't you just… endure it like everyone else?"
The ponytailed girl looked at her.
Really looked.
"…Because I don't want this life for us."
The answer was quiet.
But firm.
The girl sitting on the veranda stared at her.
"You think you can change it?"
"No."
The response came immediately.
"…But I can change myself."
The girl on the veranda blinked.
The ponytailed girl turned back toward the wooden post.
"If I become strong enough…"
Her voice softened slightly.
"…we won't have to stay here forever."
The words lingered in the cold air.
For a moment, the girl sitting on the veranda didn't speak.
Then she laughed quietly.
Not happily.
Just tired.
"You're dreaming."
"…Maybe."
"But I'd rather dream than give up."
The girl on the veranda slowly stood up.
She brushed the snow from her clothes.
"You always drag me into your dreams."
Her voice sounded calmer again.
But the earlier bitterness hadn't completely disappeared.
The ponytailed girl looked at her.
"…You're my sister."
The answer was simple.
The girl with the bobcut paused.
Her expression shifted slightly.
"…That's exactly the problem."
She turned toward the exit of the courtyard.
"I'm tired of watching you hurt yourself."
She stopped briefly near the edge of the training yard.
"…Just come inside soon."
Her voice softened slightly.
"It's cold."
The ponytailed girl nodded faintly.
"…I will."
The girl with the bobcut hesitated for a second.
Then she added quietly—
"…Don't get sick."
For a brief moment, the stubborn girl in the courtyard smiled faintly.
"…You worry too much."
The girl at the exit scoffed softly.
"I don't worry."
Then she walked away.
The courtyard returned to silence.
After a moment, the ponytailed girl raised her fist again.
Thud.
From the shadows, Sora watched quietly.
He deep in thought.
Being in a patriarchal family who value strong sorcerers was truly a curse for them.
Weak willed ones would have taken their own life to escape.
But their wills were clearly not weak. Or that they were together to share the burden.
Anyhow, the main issue is that the bobcut girl, who was most probably Mai, was heading towards his way.
Sora was internally conflicted.
He wanted to introduce himself.
But on the otherhand that could get him killed if he was reported as a invader.