They say it can only take a single instance to turn everything upside down. One swift and sudden moment to ruin it all, and everything you've ever known or seen comes crashing down before your eyes.
For Val, it took one night.
One long one.
"What...?"
Val's eyes widened as he took in the girl kneeling before him. She moved with hesitant grace, genuflecting as if in servitude, her hands barely brushing the ground. Confusion swirled in her wide, violet eyes, and for the first time, Val's expression—a cold, motionless mask—rippled. His chest tightened, a strange pull in his gut, as if some unseen dam had burst, letting his thoughts surge uncontrollably.
The night pressed down on him like a living weight. Cold seeped into his bones, clawing at his muscles, while the shadows twisted around the edges of the courtyard like watchful predators. The air was thick, almost tangible, carrying with it a metallic tang—blood, or fear, or both—and his breath came in shallow bursts.
Above, the full moon hung indifferently, its pale light casting hard silver lines across broken stone and glistening puddles. It seemed untouched by the chaos below, aloof, almost mocking in its serenity, a distant observer to the world crumbling beneath it.
Val's hands itched, restless, trembling slightly—not from exhaustion, though he was bleeding and bruised—but from the tension coiling tight in his chest. Every instinct screamed movement, vigilance, calculation. Every nerve screamed danger.
The mysterious girl, who had appeared out of nowhere, shifted suddenly. Her snow-white hair fluttered like a small cascade of pale ivory, stunning under the moonlight, while her bright violet eyes glinted with a piercing intensity.
"The night is dark and full of delight."
The edges of her slender red lips curved into a faint smile, giving her previously motionless and cold face a fleeting radiance of charm and beauty, despite the faint traces of tears and the soft flush on her cheeks.
Val felt his breath catch, though for a reason entirely different than expected. The sudden changes in her expression—while she had remained in the same spot—stirred something strange in his chest, each flicker feeling like an exploding star.
Short and white-haired as she was, she didn't seem to notice. She lifted her head and snapped it around, and in an instant, her entire demeanor shifted once more, returning to the aloof, cold, and somber presence she had shown at the beginning.
This time, however, a flash of alertness tinted her otherworldly violet eyes, deepening the amethyst with a faint trace of barely concealed bloodlust.
"They're coming. We need to move."
Her words snapped Val ruthlessly out of his reverie. His bloodied expression deepened, and his deep blue eyes settled on her figure as his somber mask returned.
"Who is?"
Val's voice was calm, deep, and placid, each word steady despite the storm of confusion and shock still twisting inside him. His bearing had returned to its usual controlled state, as if nothing could pierce the icy surface of his will.
He asked the question even though he already knew the answer. Whether the girl—who called herself Raven—was aware of it or not, he would hear it all the same.
"The Executioners."
Even Val's composed demeanor couldn't prevent his brows from creasing at the ominous name.
Raven met his gaze as she rose to her feet. The dark cloak she wore fluttered with her movements, partially revealing a black-and-white outfit underneath, reminiscent of a maid's uniform.
Seeing his faint reaction, she pressed further, her voice weighted with urgency.
"The ones trying to kill you."
"I got that," Val said calmly, his words and outward composure starkly at odds with the storm raging inside him.
In truth, he didn't get anything. His mind was still racing, reeling from Raven's announcement—and from everything else that had happened tonight.
He had already made peace with… whatever this was. He had surrendered to the inevitability of his fate. There was nothing he could do; those hunting him were clearly not human. And even without knowing what they truly were, one thing was certain—they were determined to kill him.
Call him a coward, as many might, for yielding so easily. But Val was realistic. He was broken, wounded, lightheaded, and shivering from blood loss. What chance did he have against beings far stronger, faster, and more enigmatic than himself?
The fact that he knew nothing about these 'Executioners'—what they truly were, and why they suddenly sought his death while seemingly knowing him well enough to want him gone—was already a defeat in his mind.
Not to mention, he couldn't even escape from 'here,' even if he had wanted to. Raven had already admitted as much.
And yet, suddenly, there was this mysterious girl. Her presence made fragments of understanding click into place, even as countless other pieces remained maddeningly incomprehensible.
Despite his outward calm and apathetic mask of resignation, Val's mind spun furiously, gears turning in a reality that seemed barely real.
Raven's last words reverberated in his thoughts, setting his mind racing.
Could it be…?
Moments earlier, he had already resigned himself to the inconceivable, the unbelievable. Standing on the brink of what he assumed were his final moments, shouldn't he at least allow himself the luxury of belief in whatever he wanted—however improbable it might be?
Val was realistic, but not a strict realist. He was no fatalist either. It was a matter of perspective: of being honest and truthful about the circumstances surrounding him, under whatever conditions, even if they were difficult to describe or fully comprehend—or at least trying to make the most practical sense of them.
But as a man teetering on the edge of death, Val allowed himself the luxuries of the unrealistic, of extreme possibilities.
"What are you still doing? We should get moving before they find us again."
Raven's voice cut through his thoughts like a whip. Slowly, he lifted his head, taking in her tense and earnest expression. Her arm was outstretched toward him, a silent offer of guidance. His deep blue eyes lingered on her, inexplicable and searching, as if trying to read what words could not convey.
Val had countless questions, yet amid the chaos of the night, one certainty anchored him: the look in Raven's eyes.
He didn't know who she truly was, but he knew one thing with absolute clarity—she did not want him dead.
On the contrary, it seemed almost painfully obvious: Raven wanted him to live.
Her sincerity burned like a flaming boisterous hearth.
And she would do anything to make sure he survived—
Even laying down her whole life if she had to.
.
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A/N: Chapter 3-4 are now available on Patreon.