Noir stood there, trembling.
Around him, the courtyard slowly returned to order. White-robed priests covered the dead with cloth. Seers extinguished the last of the fires and tended to wounded comrades. Civilians were ushered inside to safety by those whose calling was comfort, not combat.
The child he'd saved—the little girl who'd been frozen on the steps—was being carried away by her mother. The woman looked back at Noir once, her eyes red with tears, and mouthed two words:
Thank you.
Then they were gone.
Noir looked down at his hands.
Still covered in blood. Still shaking.
These people died because of me.
But that child lived because of me.
Which one matters more?
He thought of his mother. Her smile. Her warmth. The way she used to brush his hair back from his forehead and call him her "little shadow."
The memory was vague, fractured by trauma, but it was there.
What would she want me to do?
The answer came immediately, painfully clear:
She'd want me to live.
She'd want me to be strong enough to protect people.
She'd want me to be more than this... this rage.
Noir closed his eyes.
Took a breath.
Made his choice.
He found Yuusha inside the cathedral, kneeling before the altar, hands folded in prayer.
Soo Ah stood nearby, watching silently.
Noir's footsteps echoed across the marble floor.
Yuusha didn't turn around.
"Have you decided?" he asked quietly.
Noir's voice was hoarse. Raw. But steady.
"I'll join."
"Good." Yuusha rose to his feet and turned. "But first, you must prove your commitment."
Noir's eyes narrowed. "What?"
Yuusha gestured toward the crimson fabric still clutched in Noir's hand.
"That," he said simply.
Noir's grip tightened instinctively. "What about it?"
"The past binds you." Yuusha's voice was gentle, almost sympathetic. "That fabric represents a quest for vengeance. An obsession that has brought you nothing but suffering. If you truly wish to join the Ise Order, you must let it go."
"No." The word came out sharp, immediate. "This is all I have left of—"
"Of what?" Yuusha interrupted. "A mystery? A dead end? You've carried that for years, Noir, and where has it led you? To murder. To desperation. To standing in a courtyard surrounded by bodies that died because of you."
Each word was a knife, precise and cutting.
"I need it," Noir said, his voice breaking slightly. "It's the only clue I have. The only way to find—"
"I already told you." Yuusha's eyes were steady. "I will tell you about the man you seek. When you're ready. But you cannot move forward while clinging to the past."
He extended his hand, palm up.
"Burn it. Here. Now. Prove that you're committed to becoming more than what you were."
Noir stared at the outstretched hand.
Then at the fabric in his own.
The crimson cloth was faded, worn soft by years of constant handling. The emblem was barely visible anymore. But it was hers. The only thing his mother had left him. The only connection to a past he barely remembered.
If I burn this, I lose her completely.
His hands trembled.
"I..." His voice cracked. "I can't."
"Then you're not ready to join." Yuusha lowered his hand. "And without the Order's protection, you'll be dead within a week. Hunted by rippers. Arrested for murder. Or both."
The silence stretched between them like a chasm.
Noir looked down at the fabric.
Mother...
He remembered her smile. Vague. Distant. Slipping away with every passing year.
What the hell am I supposed to do in this circumstance ?
Noir's breath shuddered.
Slowly, painfully, he extended his hand.
And placed the crimson fabric in Yuusha's palm.
"Don't burn it," Noir said, his voice barely a whisper. "Please. Just... keep it. I'll earn it back when I'm strong enough."
Yuusha studied him for a long moment.
Then his fingers closed around the fabric.
"Very well," he said softly. "I will keep it safe. And when you've proven yourself..." He tucked the cloth into his robes. "You'll have it returned."
Noir felt something break inside him.
The fabric disappeared into Yuusha's white robes, swallowed by pristine cloth, and with it went the last physical piece of his mother.
I'm sorry, he thought. I'm so sorry.
Yuusha descended from the altar and stopped directly in front of Noir.
"Welcome to the Ise Order, Noir Adélard."
He extended his hand.
Noir stared at it. This hand had humiliated him. Defeated him. Controlled him. This hand had just taken the most precious thing he owned.
But it was also offering him something:
A chance.
He reached out.
And shook.
Yuusha's grip was firm but not crushing.
"Your training begins at dawn," he said. "Get some rest. You'll need it."
He released Noir's hand.
"You made the right choice," Yuusha added, his voice carrying something that might have been approval. "The past cannot be changed. But the future can be shaped."
Then he turned and walked toward his chambers, white robes trailing behind him.
Noir stood there, feeling hollow.
Empty.
Like something vital had been carved out of his chest.
Soo Ah approached slowly, her expression unreadable.
"That took courage," she said quietly.
"Did it?" Noir's voice was dead. "Or did I just give up the only thing that mattered?"
"Both, maybe." She nodded toward the residential wing. "Come on. I'll show you where you'll be staying."
As they walked, Noir looked back once at the space where Yuusha had stood.
I'll get it back, he thought. I swear I'll get it back.
And when I do...
I'm coming for all the answers you're hiding.
* * *
Yuusha stood alone in his chambers, candlelight flickering across his serene features.
He pulled the crimson fabric from his robes, studying the faded emblem with careful attention.
A banned seer's mark. Someone erased from the records.
"Fascinating," he murmured.
He traced the emblem with one finger, his expression thoughtful.
"You gave this up so easily, Noir Adélard. Your only connection to the past. Your only clue."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Which means you don't understand what you're truly looking for. You don't even know the questions to ask."
He held the fabric up to the light.
"But I will teach you. I will shape you. And when you finally understand what you are..."
A soft smile crossed his lips—calculating, almost predatory.
"You'll be exactly what I need."
He folded the fabric with care and placed it in a small wooden box on his desk.
Then he locked it.