The moonlight cast a faint glow over the two figures walking side by side. The narrow passage was darker, with no lanterns lighting the way and no signs of life in the streets. A heavy silence hung in the air.
Ryojin found it strange how easily this girl had accepted his deal. Trust, to him, was not something given freely. Yet here she was, walking beside him with a casual ease, even humming softly as if they had known each other for years.
"So, you're the quiet type," she teased, glancing at him. "That's fine. I know what you're thinking—why did I accept your deal without hesitation, despite not knowing you at all?"
She paused, her voice dropping slightly.
"To be honest, I don't trust you. But what can I do?" She let out a small sigh. "It's obvious that you've formed a pact with a powerful spirit. The way you ran while carrying me—it was unreal. Your strength and speed aren't normal. So I wouldn't dare try any tricks. I know when I'm at someone's mercy."
Ryojin considered her words, finding an undeniable truth within them. Resistance was meaningless when one stood at a clear disadvantage. It was a lesson he had learned long ago—the strong dictated fate, and the weak could only adapt or be crushed beneath the weight of their defiance.
Though he did not voice his thoughts, her simple statement revealed much about her nature. She was not the type to fight battles she could not win. Instead, she recognized her limitations, acknowledged reality, and moved accordingly. It was a rare trait—one that separated survivors from fools.
Many would have resisted, clung to pride, or attempted deception, but she understood the futility of such actions. That alone made her different. Pragmatic. Cautious. Perhaps even dangerous in her own way.
Still, Ryojin had no reason to harm her. He sought only a temporary place to stay.
"You don't need to be afraid of me," he finally said, his voice low and steady. "I only need a place to stay for a while."
"Okay," she replied, though her tone still held doubt. "I'm Kina. And you are?"
"Rio," he answered after a brief hesitation. Giving his real name was too risky.
"Rio, huh? That's an odd name for someone with your build," Kina said, eyeing him. Though his body was concealed beneath a cloth, his presence alone gave off an air of intimidation. "I was expecting something more… threatening."
"Are we close to the place?" Ryojin asked, changing the subject. His tone carried a hint of impatience. "We've been walking for a while. It's getting late."
"Relax, we're almost there," Kina assured him. "I told you, I'm not leading you into a trap."
Her confidence made it difficult to argue, so Ryojin simply nodded and followed her.
At the end of the passage, a large wooden building came into view. Beams of light seeped through tiny gaps in the walls, hinting at life inside.
"We've arrived," Kina announced, gesturing toward the structure.
Ryojin studied the building. It was massive. He didn't recall seeing it the last time he was in this kingdom, but then again, he hadn't been paying much attention to buildings when he and his comrades had invaded.
"Let's go," Kina urged, noticing he had drifted into thought.
As they approached, the muffled sounds of children playing echoed from within. Kina stepped up to the wooden door and knocked lightly.
The door creaked open, and within seconds, a group of children rushed forward, wrapping their arms around Kina.
"Kina, you're back!" a young boy exclaimed, clinging to her.
"Yes, I am," she replied, a smile tugging at her lips.
However, the moment one of the children—a small girl—spotted Ryojin, she let out a startled scream.
The other children turned to him, their faces a mixture of fear and uncertainty.
"Hey, that's just my friend, Rio," Kina reassured them, placing a hand on the little girl's shoulder. "Hey, Rio, can you take off that cloak?"
Ryojin hesitated. If he was going to stay here, they would see his face eventually. With a slight nod, he pulled back the cloth slightly revealing his face. The rest of his body, still clad in armor, remained hidden beneath the fabric.
Kina's eyes widened slightly as she took in his appearance. He wasn't what she had expected.
"You look… different," she admitted, running a hand through her hair. "You're younger than I thought. Late twenties, maybe?"
Before Ryojin could respond, a small girl in a white dress, no older than eight, suddenly ran up to him and hugged him tightly.
"It's nice to meet you, Rio!" she chirped excitedly. "I'm Trina!"
Ryojin stiffened, completely caught off guard. His body tensed, his mind struggling to process what was happening.
The other children giggled at his awkward reaction.
"Your friend is funny, Kina!" a boy laughed.
"Yeah, Rio, you're acting like you've never been hugged before," Kina added, amusement dancing in her eyes.
Ryojin forced a small, stiff smile. If only she knew the truth.
She was right.
He had never been hugged authentically before.
Warmth, kindness, affection—these were not merely foreign to him; they were myths, distant echoes of a world he had never been part of. His existence had been forged in the crucible of suffering, his every step now shadowed by betrayal. Trust was a lie, a fragile thing that shattered the moment it was placed in another's hands.
And yet, here they were—children, fragile and naive, looking upon him not with fear anymore, not with suspicion, but with an innocence that defied the harsh reality he had come to accept. Their small hands reached out without hesitation, their laughter carrying none of the malice, none of the cruelty he had come to expect from the world.
It was absurd. Unthinkable.
He had seen kingdoms rise and fall, had stood upon mountains of corpses, had watched the light fade from the eyes of countless warriors. He had torn through battlefields like a storm, left gods and monsters alike in ruin. He now wielded abyssal energy the specter of death itself.
And yet, in this moment, in the embrace of a child who knew nothing of his sins, something deep within him trembled.
A whisper in the void. A crack in the armor he had spent a lifetime forging.
For the first time in what felt like eternity, something long buried stirred within him.
Something unknown.
Something dangerous.
Something that felt disturbingly close to hope.