The village fell quiet for a moment… then the silence was shattered by the sharp, staccato volley of gunshots. Villagers screamed, scattering as laughter and chatter vanished like smoke in the wind.
Orimo's body tensed, his fists curling instinctively.
Ryuki's hand went to her sword, eyes scanning the shadows as the intruders' silhouettes moved with precision.
A group of soldiers stepped forward, rifles raised.
Soldier: "Everyone inside. Any person outside after 8 AM tomorrow will be shot. Goodnight."
The villagers hurried into their homes, doors slamming behind them. The warm glow of lanterns now seemed fragile against the oppressive darkness.
One man reached for Orimo's shoulder, guiding him toward his house.
Man: "You can stay here. It's safe inside."
Inside, the house was dim, empty, silent. Dust floated in the slivers of moonlight through the window.
Ryuki: "Do you live alone?"
Man: (nodding, voice heavy) "Yes… my daughter… she died from a disease."
Orimo's eyes widened.
Orimo: "Why… why didn't you get her cured?"
Tears streaked the man's face as he looked away.
Man: "They refused to treat her. They… they do whatever they want. It's not a normal country."
Ryuki: "I'm so sorry… you've been through so much."
Man: (wiping his tears) "It's okay. If anyone hears this, I'd be killed… or worse. You'll need to keep quiet too."
Orimo and Ryuki nodded solemnly.
The rain outside tapped against the roof, soft but relentless. Shadows flickered across the walls as the candlelight danced.
Man: "Let's sleep now."
Orimo: "Yeah… sure."
Ryuki: "Goodnight."
Silence returned, but it was fragile—heavy with loss and unspoken grief—as they all drifted into uneasy slumber.