Yaima Castle—
The lord's chamber was a monument to opulence. Rich tapestries adorned the walls, scenes of past glories woven in crimson and gold. Gilded sculptures of warriors and mythical beasts stood watch over the chamber like guardians. Even the air felt thick, heavy with the mingling scents of incense and aged wood.
Lord Daizo's throne-like seat was cushioned with the finest silk, yet his body slumped upon it with the haggard weight of a man far too burdened by age and bitterness. His once broad shoulders were stooped, his fingers gripping the armrests as though their solidity could somehow anchor him to the strength of his youth. His gaze, however, was sharp and cold—steel forged through years of ruthless decision-making.
Takeda knelt before him, his head bowed deeply in a gesture of respect. But his shoulders trembled, not from submission, but from the desperation clawing at his throat.
"Father, I beg of you. Just... give me more time." His voice cracked, and the shame of it stung. He was a grown man, a lord's eldest son, and here he was groveling before his father like a boy caught breaking his sword in training.
Lord Daizo scoffed, his expression twisted with disdain. "More time? You waste your breath, Takeda. Your son has been given everything. The best of care, the finest physicians, the strongest guards money can buy. And yet, here you are, whining like a beaten dog."
The words pierced deep, but Takeda gritted his teeth and kept his gaze fixed on the polished stone floor. "Whatever has been done so far, it's not enough. No matter what I do, he continues to worsen. I only ask for more time to find a solution."
"Enough!" Daizo's fist came down upon the armrest, rattling the ornaments around him. His voice was gravelly, like stones grinding against each other. "Excuses, all of them! If you cannot produce a healthy heir, then you are of no use to me."
Takeda's nails dug into his palms. His body felt like a bowstring pulled too tight. "And if I am not worthy, then what? You will hand the title to my brothers?"
"Yes. They have been waiting, circling like vultures over a dying animal. And why shouldn't they? If they can succeed where you have failed, then the title is theirs." Daizo's words were delivered with cruel indifference. "If your son remains the sickly wretch he is, you will be banished from Yaima City. You and that child of yours will be nothing but beggars scraping at the gates."
Takeda's chest tightened. The threat was nothing new, but hearing it spoken with such casual cruelty twisted something in him. Yet his voice was steady. "I understand, Father. But I will not abandon my son. Even if it costs me everything."
"Then prove your worth," Daizo snarled. "Or accept your fate. I will not have this conversation again."
Takeda rose slowly, his body feeling like it was made of rusted iron. His gaze never met his father's. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing like a final judgment.
An Unexpected Applicant
The corridors of Yaima Castle stretched long and winding, their wood-polished floors gleaming beneath dim candlelight. Servants scurried about, heads bowed, shoulders hunched. The castle was a place of power, but to many, it was a cage wrapped in silk.
Takeda's mind was a storm, his father's words cutting deeper than any blade. His steps echoed through the hall, his hands clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"My lord," a voice interrupted.
Takeda turned to find one of the castle's stewards, a thin, balding man who looked perpetually terrified of offending the wrong person. The servant bowed low.
"There is a new applicant seeking the position of your son's guard. He waits by the courtyard."
Takeda's lips pressed into a thin line. "Another one? You should have turned him away."
"Yes, my lord, but... he was rather insistent. And unlike the others, he... well, he seems different."
Takeda's brow furrowed. "Different?"
The servant gulped. "Yes. He did not flinch when I mentioned what happened to the previous guards."
Takeda sighed. "Very well. I'll see him. But only because I'm curious what kind of fool would willingly march to his death."
They walked through the corridors until they reached the open courtyard. The sky was a cloudless blue, sunlight filtering down through cherry blossoms that swayed gently in the wind.
Takeda's eyes widened as he spotted the applicant. The man stood calm and collected, his posture relaxed but purposeful. He wore black and navy robes, the kind fit more for a warrior than a mere guard. His long, straight sword hung at his waist, the weapon's hilt bound in simple leather but somehow exuding a quiet menace.
"You..." Takeda's voice was one of mild surprise. "You're the man I bumped into at the market yesterday."
"That's right." Taro's tone was even, his expression unreadable. "And you're Takeda, the eldest son of the lord."
Takeda couldn't hide his curiosity. "You came here to apply for the position?"
"I did. You need someone to protect your son. I believe I can do that."
They walked across the courtyard, the petals dancing around their feet. Takeda kept his voice low. "Every other applicant has died. Torn apart, some of them. I've already decided to handle the task myself. I can't keep throwing people to their deaths."
"Then consider me a corpse that can stand and walk," Taro replied calmly.
"People always say something like that. Then they die. And I'm left to carry the guilt." Takeda's fists tightened. "There's something different about you. I can see that. But you're still just a man."
"Perhaps. But I'm not like the others. Give me a week. If I don't prove my worth, I'll leave."
Takeda looked into Taro's eyes, searching for something. Fear. Greed. Doubt. He found none. Only calm, steady confidence.
"Very well. But understand this: I will not ask you to die for my child."
"Don't worry." Taro's eyes gleamed. "I'm not planning on dying."
Takeda handed him a small pouch of coins. "Your advance payment. Your room is in the east wing. You begin tomorrow."
Taro nodded. "Understood."
Takeda turned away, but his mind was restless. Something about that man unsettled him.
And he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a very, very bad thing.
Taro's room was small but clean, a simple futon laid out on the polished wooden floor. The room's paper sliding doors were pushed open, letting in the cool night air and the pale glow of the moon. Taro lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling with an unreadable expression. His fingers twirled a pair of wooden chopsticks, flipping them over and over with a dexterity born from habit. The castle was quiet, only the faint murmur of distant guards and the rustle of leaves breaking the silence.
The moonlight spilled in, framing him like a phantom caught between worlds. And then, a familiar voice slithered into his ears, rich with its usual sarcasm.
"So, you really are trying to play the noble guard, huh?"
Taro's gaze remained fixed on the ceiling. "Why are you here, Sayaka?"
The silver-haired spirit stepped through the open door, her ethereal body gliding over the wooden floor as though she weighed nothing. Her hair shimmered in the moonlight, its strands dancing like liquid mercury. She settled beside him, her head resting against his chest, fingers tracing idle circles over his robes.
"I'm here because I'm bored," she said with a pout, her voice all honeyed mischief. "And because I have information. But mostly because I'm bored."
"If you have something to say, then say it," Taro replied, his voice devoid of annoyance.
Her fingers continued their lazy dance over his chest. "You could at least pretend to be happy to see me, you know. After all, you're the only one who can."
Taro's fingers stopped twirling the chopsticks for a moment, then continued. "What did you find?"
Sayaka's playful expression faded, replaced by something colder. "The boy. He's been cursed."
The air grew heavy. Taro's eyes narrowed, his gaze finally drifting from the ceiling to meet hers. "Cursed?"
"A vengeful spirit," Sayaka confirmed, her voice dropping to a low whisper. "It's clinging to the poor child like a parasite. Its hatred seeps into him, poisoning his body and draining his life away."
Taro sat up, dislodging her from her comfortable position. "And you only tell me this now?"
Sayaka folded her arms, pouting. "I only just confirmed it. Besides, you're the one who dragged us to this castle. I was just planning to eat and enjoy the luxury for a while."
"I need to see him," Taro said, his voice low and cold.
"What, right now?" Sayaka raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd at least let me finish speaking before you go charging off like an idiot."
"Sayaka." His voice held the weight of an order.
She sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. But don't blame me if things get messy."
Taro rose to his feet, his shadow stretching long and sharp under the moonlight. Sayaka followed, her expression now serious, the playful mask slipping away.
Moving through the castle was like threading a needle through fabric without tearing it. Taro's steps were soundless, his breathing steady, his senses sharp. Sayaka drifted beside him, her form more shadow than substance. They glided through secret corridors and unused passageways, places long forgotten by the castle's inhabitants.
"Did you know about these paths?" Sayaka asked, her voice light despite the tension in the air.
"No."
"But you found them anyway. Impressive."
"Stop talking."
Sayaka's lips curled into a smirk, but she complied.
It wasn't long before they reached the child's quarters. Taro slid the door open just enough to slip inside. The room was cold, the air thick and stale. Everything was meticulously clean, but there was something off about the place.
His gaze found the child lying on a futon. The boy's black hair was a tangled mess, his body thin to the point of fragility. His skin was almost translucent. His ribs could be seen.
While,as a noble,his nutrition was high quality. But,he would always vomit the food.
He had been....at deaths door his entire life.
Taro's eyes shifted to the corner of the room, where darkness pooled unnaturally. A creeping shadow, writhing and twisting like a mass of living ink.
"There it is," Sayaka whispered, her usual arrogance replaced by genuine unease. "That thing's been feeding off him for a long time. It's almost... comfortable here."
The shadow's presence was oppressive, like a sickness permeating the air. It twitched and quivered, as if aware of Taro's gaze. And then, all at once, it lunged.
A scream tore through the air, but it wasn't a sound that could be heard by anyone else. It was a mental howl, a blast of raw, unfiltered hatred that lashed out at both Taro and Sayaka.
Taro's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, but he didn't draw it. Not yet. The spirit's fury was like a tidal wave crashing against him, but he stood firm. His eyes locked onto the shadow, unyielding.
"Enough." His voice cut through the air like steel.
The shadow recoiled, its form shuddering before it melted back into the darkness.
Taro's chest heaved, his muscles tensed from the strain of holding his ground against the malevolent presence. Beside him, Sayaka looked genuinely rattled.
"Well, that was unpleasant," she muttered, her hands trembling slightly. "If it hadn't kept its scream directed only at us, the entire castle would've woken up."
"We're leaving," Taro said curtly, turning away from the child's bed.
They slipped out of the room as silently. They continued until they reached a hilltop, where an ancient tree stood, its branches reaching out like twisted fingers. From there, they had a clear view of the castle, the moonlight casting its imposing silhouette against the darkened sky.
Sayaka stretched, her expression relaxing now that they were far from the cursed child's quarters. "So, now you know. That thing's going to keep feeding on the kid until there's nothing left of him."
"I know." Taro's gaze remained locked on the castle. "And I'll get rid of it."
Sayaka snorted. "Bold claim. But I wouldn't be here if I didn't believe you'd try something ridiculous. Just try not to die, alright? I'm fond of you, even if you are a stubborn idiot."
Taro said nothing. His fingers twitched, still feeling the cold chill of that twisted presence.