The morning sun of Caria bled through the cracks of the wooden shutters, casting long, dusty needles of light across the room. I jolted awake, my heart hammering against my ribs. For a split second, I reached for a blade that wasn't there, my instincts still trapped in the filth of the 5th District.
Slowly, the tension ebbed, I was in House 132 and I was safe.
With practiced ease, I used my one hand to strip the sheets, smoothing the mattress back into a semblance of order. I paused, standing before the large wall mirror again and my single green eye narrowed as I stared at the space where I should have been. The bed behind me was reflected perfectly, the wardrobe was clear, but the space where I stood was a hollow gap in reality, a human-shaped hole.
It was the true cost of my Bloof Curse and my S-rank status. I was dead, a deceased girl who climbed the gates of hell. To the world's reflection, I simply didn't exist. It was a haunting reminder that while I could take the faces of others, I had lost the right to see my own.
I headed downstairs, the wooden steps creaking under my light footsteps. My first priority was privacy. I moved from window to window, pulling the heavy velvet curtains shut until the ground floor was bathed in a dim, protective gloom. I couldn't risk a neighbor catching a glimpse of the jagged, crimson arcs of my blood wings through the glass.
My stomach let out a hollow growl. The mana I had used to decapitate Cletus and maintain my shapeshifted form had drained me more than I realized. I needed fuel.
I rifled through the kitchen cupboard and found a few remaining canned foods left by the previous occupant or the Bureau. I didn't bother with a plate or a fire, I'm starving.
The cold metal of the can groaned as I peeled it open with my bare hand, the strength of my stats making the steel feel like thin parchment. I used a silver spoon to scoop out the contents, but the act of eating was a surreal struggle.
For weeks, I had survived on nothing but the copper-rich essence of blood to fuel my core. Now, the texture of solid food felt alien. Without a tongue to move the morsels and with my taste buds dulled by the trauma that had consumed my senses, chewing was a mechanical, chore-like process. I couldn't truly taste the salt or the meat, I only felt the weight of it sliding down my throat. It was a grim reminder that while I had a home and a bed, I was no longer entirely human.
As I finished the last tin, I wiped the edge of my Glasgow smile with the back of my hand. The silence of the house was absolute, but my mind was already racing.
A sharp, rhythmic knock echoed through the quiet house.
I froze, my hand dropping the spoon. My blood-wings twitched instinctively, their sharp tips clicking against the floorboards. I stood up, adjusting my nightgown and pulling a shawl tightly over my shoulders to pin my wings flat against my back. I couldn't let anyone see the crimson appendages.
I walked to the door and pulled it open just a crack.
A young paperboy stood on the porch, in the name tag named Charlie makes a name that didn't happen to get a taste of war, his cap pulled low and a heavy satchel slung over his shoulder.
Charlie blinked, clearly startled by the sight of my glasgow smile and my vibrant green eye, but he maintained his professional cheer.
"Greetings, Eirene!"
I couldn't speak, so I simply widened my carved smile, a gesture that probably looked more terrifying than friendly, though I meant it in earnest. The boy's eyes drifted to my throat, then back to my face. He seemed to realize the situation quickly.
"Ah, right. A bounty hunter... and a quiet one at that, here, fresh from the print. You're the talk of the Bureau today, you know."
I reached out with my one hand, careful not to let the shawl slip. I took the newspaper, the rough texture of the ink-stained paper crinkling under my grip. Charlie gave a quick tip of his hat and scurried off toward House 133, leaving me alone in the doorway.
I stepped back inside and closed the door, leaning against the wood. I unfurled the newspaper. There, on the front page, was a grainy sketch of the 5th District sewers and a headline that made my blood hum:
(Caria Times- Wednesday)
SHADOW OVER THE SLUMS: THE REIGN OF CLETUS ROMAN ENDS
Mysterious Bounty Hunter Delivers Head of Sewer King in Record Time.
Beneath that, in smaller, more ominous print, was a notice from the outskirts: Reports of Green-Haired Knight Sighted in Southern Plains. Travelers Advised to Avoid the Old Ruins.
I felt a cold shiver of anticipation. The world was already beginning to react to my presence. I tossed the paper onto the table and looked at the brass key to the house. I had my food, I had my news, and I had my target. It was time to leave the comfort of the 3rd District and head into the wild, where the commander was waiting from my arrival.
I set the newspaper down on the wooden table, but as my hand moved, I caught a glimpse of the polished silverware sitting beside my empty can. I paused, tilting a silver spoon to catch the light. There it was again, or rather, there wasn't it.
In the reflection of the spoon, the newspaper appeared to be hovering in mid-air, held by a ghostly, invisible force. There was no pale hand gripping it, no green eye staring back, no jagged smile. Just a floating piece of print. My existence was a hollow point in the world's light.
I pushed the spoon away. I didn't have time to mourn my reflection.
The newspaper had confirmed the rumors: Cameron Gal was haunting the Southern Plains. I knew the general direction, but the plains was a vast, lawless expanse outside the fortified walls of Caria. To hunt an Immoral Knight in his own territory without a precise location would be suicide, even for an S-rank. I needed maps, scout reports, and any intel the Bureau had on his specific combat style.
I stood up and moved to the coat rack. I pulled on my heavy black cloak, the fabric settling over my wings with a familiar, comforting weight. I adjusted the hood to shadow my face and grabbed my leather purse, making sure the Registry and my gold coin were secure.
I stepped out of House 132 and locked the door behind me. The morning air in the 3rd District was crisp, but I felt like a dark smudge on a clean canvas as I walked toward the gates.
"Toll and status card."
The gatekeeper from before greets me like I was in a royal blood, I handed the toll with an equivalent of a singular silver coin, and a status card from the gatekeeper, out of all the gatekeeperout there, he was the kindest.
"Eirene, I knew your name very well, your the shadow walker's sister. As we met for the first time, allow me to introduce myself, I am Renny Vice, 267th heir of the capital knight."
Huh? Capital Knight? Here working as a gatekeeper, it was hell, and later confirming from Renny's badges, I can tell that he was indeed an capital knight, not in a uniform. There he returned my status card through me, even placed the card from my pockets, one of a kind romance trope.
"We meet again Eirene."
The walk back to the 4th District felt different this time. Yesterday, I was a nameless girl seeking a chance today, I was the hunter who had ended a two-year reign of terror in a single night. As I approached the Luminous Knight Bureau Association headquarters, I could feel the eyes of the patrolling knights on me. They didn't see a pretty girl anymore, they saw the girl who carried a head in a burlap bag.
I pushed through the grand doors, my boots clicking sharply on the marble. I didn't stop at the reception desk this time. I headed straight for the archives where Sydney and the tactical officers coordinated the high-rank bounties. If I was going to kill a knight who turned villages into gardens, I needed to know exactly which flower he was standing under.