We stood at the edge of the river, lanterns swaying gently above us. He didn't move closer, didn't step away. Just watched. I watched back, smoking my last cigarette of the night.
"You've got a sharp tongue," he said finally. "I like it."
"Not like it matters," I replied. "I usually scare people off before they notice anything else."
He chuckled, the kind of laugh that sounded like he was enjoying the unpredictability of me. "You're a lot more interesting than I expected."
"Flattery's wasted here," I said, flicking the last of the cigarette into the water. It hissed and disappeared.
"You're not going back to the Pavilion tonight, are you?" he asked. His voice softened. Not command, not threat. Just concern.
"Not if I can help it," I said.
He looked at me, long and steady. "Good. Then… there's a guest chamber upstairs. Quiet. Safe. You can rest there for the night."
I raised an eyebrow. "You're offering me a bed?"
"Yes," he said, shrugging like it was the most natural thing in the world. "For tonight. No traps. No questions. Just sleep."
I hesitated. That was unusual. But sleep sounded… nice. Warm, even. Human. I'd been moving through shadows so long, I'd almost forgotten that existed.
"Alright," I said finally. "But I don't snore."
He laughed, a little warmer this time. "I'll take my chances."
We walked together toward the temple guest quarters. He didn't follow too close, didn't hover. Just stayed close enough to make me feel that maybe, for a few hours, I wasn't completely alone. And somehow, that made the night feel less sharp, less like stone and smoke.
---
The next morning, I woke to the smell of incense and cooking fires drifting through the open windows. Sunlight fell on the worn wood of the floorboards, golden and soft. I stretched, pushing my hair from my face, and realized—sleep hadn't been terrible. Warmth lingered in my chest. A strange thing for a killer to feel.
I dressed quickly and stepped outside. The temple courtyard was alive in quiet motion. Monks moved through the gardens, tending bonsai and sweeping stone paths. Birds called from the eaves. The river shimmered. It was peaceful. Almost deceptively so.
And then I heard it: the low growl.
I froze.
A figure stepped from the shadows of the main hall. Young—maybe my age—but with the kind of presence that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. He looked human enough at first glance, but there was something… not. The amber of his eyes glowed faintly in the morning light. His movements were fluid, coiled like a predator ready to strike.
"You shouldn't be here," he said calmly, voice smooth and even.
"I could say the same to you," I replied, hands on my hips, cigarette dangling loosely between my fingers.
He crouched slightly, just enough to make his stance predatory. "I don't take kindly to intruders."
"Neither do I," I said. "But I like meeting interesting people."
His eyes narrowed, amber catching the sunlight. "Then you'll have to survive me first."
---
The fight was sharp, brutal, and silent.
He moved fast—faster than any human I'd faced, a blur of motion that tested every reflex I had. I ducked, spun, and dodged, letting my shadowed instincts take over. We traded blows, circling each other around the temple courtyard, the monks long gone behind closed doors, incense smoke curling around our movements like spectators.
He threw a feint; I countered. He lunged; I rolled. At one point, I caught him with a kick to the chest, and he grunted—but didn't fall. He only laughed, low and breathless, a sound both teasing and amused.
"You're good," he said, lunging again. "Better than I expected."
"I could say the same," I replied, catching his wrist and twisting it into the air, letting him stumble forward. "But keep talking. I like hearing myself win."
Finally, after what felt like minutes but could have been hours, I pinned him with a flick of my dagger—not lethal, just enough to immobilize him.
He lay there, chest heaving, and for the first time, he smiled openly.
"Impressive," he said. "Not many can hold me like that."
"I know," I said, letting him go and stepping back. "But don't let it happen again."
He sat up, brushing dust from his robes. "Why didn't you finish me?"
I shrugged, tossing my cigarette aside. "Because you're interesting. And because I don't kill everyone I meet. That would get boring fast."
He laughed, shaking his head. "Then I guess we'll see each other again."
"I'm counting on it," I said, smiling faintly.
And in that moment, I realized something I hadn't felt in a long time:
a spark of camaraderie. A challenge. A possibility.
Not human, not fully—him or me—but maybe… an ally.