Raphael moved quietly through the bustling streets of Balmount Kingdom. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the crowded marketplace. Beastkin and humans alike mingled in the lively street, vendors calling out their wares in a symphony of shouts and bartering. Stalls were lined with everything from fresh produce to finely crafted tools, the smell of spices and baked bread filling the air. Children laughed, darting between the legs of busy shoppers, their joy infectious in the lively environment.
Raphael's eyes lingered briefly on the children, their carefree energy a stark contrast to the weight pressing on his shoulders. He turned away, slipping into a quieter street. The noise of the market faded behind him as he approached a small, inconspicuous inn. The building was modest, its wooden sign swaying gently in the evening breeze, the faded lettering barely legible. He reached for the handle and pushed the door open.
The inside of the inn was warm, the air thick with the scent of herbs and freshly baked bread. A fire crackled low in the hearth, casting flickering light across wooden beams and simple furnishings. At the counter, a young man with dark red hair leaned on his elbows, lazily polishing a glass. His sharp brown eyes flicked up as Raphael entered, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
"You're back earlier than usual," the innkeeper remarked, setting the glass down. "Something happen?"
Raphael exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nothing worth talking about."
The innkeeper raised an eyebrow. "That bad, huh?" He reached under the counter and pulled out a small brass key, sliding it toward Raphael. "No one's come asking for you."
Raphael took the key, nodding. "Good."
He turned to leave, but then hesitated. His fingers tightened around the key before he finally asked, "Is my sister alright?"
The innkeeper's smirk faded, replaced by something gentler. "Sleeping soundly. I checked on her myself—made sure she was comfortable."
Raphael let out a slow breath, some of the tension in his shoulders easing. "Thanks."
The innkeeper watched him for a moment before shaking his head. "You ever gonna let yourself rest, Raphael?"
Raphael scoffed. "Not tonight."
"You say that every night."
Raphael didn't answer.
The innkeeper leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering. "You can't keep going like this. I get it, you're looking out for her, but if you drop dead from exhaustion, then what?"
Raphael's jaw tightened. "She'll be fine."
"Yeah?" The innkeeper folded his arms. "And what if something happens to you? You think she'll be fine then?"
Raphael's fingers curled into a fist, his nails pressing into his palm. "I don't have a choice."
The innkeeper sighed, rubbing his temple. "You act like this is all on you. There are people who'd help, you know. You just never ask."
Raphael scoffed. "And who exactly should I ask? You?"
The innkeeper grinned. "Hey, I run a fine establishment. I've got connections."
Raphael gave him a flat look.
"Alright, alright," the innkeeper chuckled, holding up his hands. "Just… don't forget you're human too, Raphael."
Raphael smirked faintly but didn't respond. He simply gave a small nod and turned toward the stairs.
"At least eat something later," the innkeeper called after him.
Raphael waved a hand dismissively as he climbed the creaking stairs.
The hallway was dimly lit, the last light of the sun filtering through small windows. He reached his door, inserted the key, and stepped inside.
The room was small and plain. A narrow bed, a wooden chair, and a tiny dresser. In the corner, a small wooden cradle rested against the wall.
Raphael moved toward it, his steps soft and careful. Inside, a tiny baby girl slept soundly, her curly brown hair framing her peaceful face. She wore a simple cotton dress, her tiny hands curled into fists as she breathed evenly.
Raphael knelt beside her, gently brushing a hand over her cheek. Lily stirred slightly, a small smile forming on her lips at the familiar touch.
Raphael smiled too, though his eyes held a deep sadness. "I'm sorry, Lily," he murmured. "But your big brother won't be able to sleep tonight."
His thoughts drifted back to the night he had found her. It had been a mission, like so many others, given to him by the boss.
The night smelled of blood.
Raphael stood motionless in the aftermath, surrounded by the dead. More than thirty bodies lay scattered across the ruined hall, the floor slick with red. The air was thick with the metallic scent, the weight of death pressing down on him. His breath was slow, controlled. It was over.
Then, through the silence—
A baby's cry.
Raphael turned sharply. His grip on his dagger tightened.
The sound came from behind a toppled table. He stepped over a body, his boots sloshing in the pooled blood, and peered past the wreckage.
A man lay there, barely clinging to life. His chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths, his arms wrapped protectively around a bundle of cloth. The baby squirmed in his grasp, her tiny face scrunched in distress, her cries weak but desperate.
The man stirred, his lips parting as he forced out a whisper. "There, there, Eris…" His voice was soft, trembling, a dying man clinging to the last moments he had left.
Raphael stared down at him, silent.
Then, the man's weary eyes flickered up, locking onto Raphael's face. Despite his state, something like recognition flashed in his gaze.
"It's you…"
Raphael's brow furrowed. "You know me?"
The man gave a faint smile, his body sagging. "I knew you'd come…" His voice cracked, but he pushed on. "You're always where death is, aren't you?"
Raphael didn't answer. His face drifted to the baby, still squirming in the man's arms.
"You should let her go," Raphael said flatly. His fingers brushed the hilt of his dagger. "There's nothing left for her here."
The man exhaled a weak laugh. "You can't kill a baby, Raphael."
Something in Raphael's chest tightened.
His dagger stilled.
"How do you know my name?" His voice was sharper now, his patience thinning. He knelt, grabbing the man's collar with one hand, forcing his gaze up. "Who are you?"
The man coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His fingers trembled as they touched the baby's tiny hand, his breathing shallow. "Death himself… told me."
Raphael's body tensed.
The man's eyes fluttered closed. His hand slipped from the baby's form. His chest rose—then fell—then nothing.
Silence.
Only the baby's quiet whimpers remained.
Raphael stayed there, his hand still gripping the man's collar. His pulse was steady, but inside, something unspoken twisted. He let out a slow breath and released his grip.
The baby hiccupped, her tiny fists waving in the empty air.
He should leave her.
He should walk away.
Instead, his hands moved before he could stop them. He reached down, carefully lifting her from the bloodstained cloth. She was so small. Lighter than anything he had ever held.
She stirred in his arms, her cries softening.
Raphael exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching. He turned, stepping out into the rain.
—
The rooftop was slick beneath his boots.
Raphael stood over the edge, watching as knights poured into the ruined building below. Their silver armor gleamed under the dim moonlight, their swords drawn.
"Find any survivors!" one of them barked.
Raphael's grip on the child tightened.
Her cries had faded into quiet, breathy whimpers against his chest. The rain fell in heavy droplets, soaking through his clothes, but he shifted, shielding her from the cold.
He looked down at her—her small, fragile frame curled against him.
She was warm.
For some reason, that warmth unsettled him more than anything else that night.
A name slipped past his lips before he could think.
"Lily."
The baby stirred, her fingers twitching.
"Your name is Lily."
Raphael sat on the edge of the bed, watching Lily's peaceful sleep.
Her tiny chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, her soft curls damp against her forehead. She had always been a quiet sleeper. That was good.
The day was ending. He knew he couldn't stay.
He reached down, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I'll be back, Lily," he murmured.
She stirred, her small fingers twitching in response.
His lips pressed into a thin line.
This wasn't where she belonged. He knew that. A child had no place with someone like him.
But that night, in the rain—
He hadn't been able to leave her behind.
And now, he wasn't sure if he ever could.
He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Sleep well."
Then he stood, stepping toward the door. He cast one last glance at her before slipping outside. The door clicked shut behind him.
Unseen, a shadow moved in the corner of the room, watching over the sleeping child.
Under the moonlight, outside a lively brothel in Balmount, the air buzzed with laughter and chatter. Lanterns cast a warm glow on the painted crimson and gold walls, while beastkin and human women alike teased and entertained passing men. Angelo leaned against a post, watching the endless flow of people, his gaze settling on a feline beastkin twirling gracefully for a rowdy group. He sighed, glancing up at the moon.
"Where the hell are you, kid?" he muttered.
A light tap on his shoulder made him jump. Angelo spun around, finding Raphael standing silently behind him, face unreadable beneath his blindfold.
"Hey kid, don't do that," Angelo said, exhaling.
"Uhmm, okay."
Angelo ran a hand through his hair. "So why were you late?"
Raphael shrugged. "Had something to do."
Angelo eyed him for a moment, then sighed. "That so?" Shaking his head, he motioned ahead. "Alright, you ready?"
Raphael gave a small nod.
"Come on, let's go." Angelo turned, slipping into a nearby alley. Raphael followed without a word.