That day, Ye Yi stepped into the hall from the edge of the Soul Well.
Ling Dang was crouched by a brazier, trying to toast a piece of soul-mist flatbread until it smoked. Cheeks puffed, she forced herself to bite down.
The next second—
Her face went white.
"C-cough—cough, cough…!"
The bitterness hit her throat like dust and thorns. She grabbed a cup of black greystone juice and gulped it down.
It was bitter on top of bitter.
Her whole face scrunched into a tiny knot.
Ye Yi's eye twitched.
"Do you insist on staging this little self-torture every day?" His voice was flat, as if watching a fool.
Ling Dang's eyes watered from the sour sting. She protested in a small voice, "I… I don't want to… I'm just really hungry…"
Ye Yi snorted.
He knew perfectly well—
eating this stuff would never truly fill her.
But he had never intended to take care of her.
Because—
She was his bargaining chip.
Not one extra word. Not one unnecessary look.
He turned away without expression and walked toward the doors.
Ling Dang hugged her knees, gnawing the corner of the flatbread like someone swallowing the world's unfairness.
She didn't know that scene—more than any weapon—was what truly annoyed Ye Yi.
Evening
Ling Dang forced herself to the Soul Well.
She wanted to pick up withered bone-root—anything she could boil.
She had just crouched—
When her vision blackened.
"…Ah…"
She braced a hand against the stone wall. Her legs went soft as water.
In the next heartbeat—
She pitched forward.
Ye Yi had been at the array's center, adjusting nightmare sigils, when he caught a faint, dull thud.
His brow furrowed.
Ling Dang lay on the ground, face drained of color, fingertips cold as shattered frost.
Ye Yi should have watched coldly—
life ran thin in this place; fainting wasn't strange.
But the way she fell…
the way her hands clung to that coat…
Something in his chest tightened—without reason.
In the next instant, he was beside her.
Ye Yi crouched and pressed his fingers to her forehead.
He muttered under his breath, "...Troublesome."
Then he lifted her into his arms—steady, secure—like he was holding something he would never admit was fragile.
Her head rested against his chest. He felt the tiny, trembling breaths of someone faint with hunger.
Ye Yi's throat bobbed once.
—He understood hunger.
—He'd seen people faint from it before.
—but this was the first time it felt… intolerable to look at.
He raised his hand. His fingertips moved.
Demonic energy tore open a thin, black fissure.
From the slit of darkness fell several packets of Nether rations once banned and sealed by You Nian—military provisions. Bitter for ordinary people, but enough to keep someone alive.
Ye Yi lowered his eyes to her.
"If you faint from hunger again, I'll throw you back into the Soul Well."
His voice was frost.
But his hands… were absurdly gentle, as though afraid she would wake and start shaking again.
Ye Yi frowned and checked her pulse. Her soul-energy was thin and fading—like this dead city was drinking it away, drop by drop.
With a flick of his sleeve, he forced out a strand of his own demonic power and sealed the most dangerous break in her meridians.
Not to save her.
Only—
…Only because he disliked the idea of this body dying in his hands.
He started to rise—
And then a weak tremor moved in his arms.
Ling Dang's brows drew together. Her lashes fluttered, as if struggling inside a nightmare.
Then she murmured—
"Luo… big brother… Dang'er misses you…"
Ye Yi went rigid.
The wind of the Demon Capital seemed to stop.
He looked down at the little girl in his arms—faint with hunger, and still calling for someone else in her dreams.
Luo—?
Of course he knew who that was.
The Fire Yao brat—hot-blooded, stubborn, always wearing that infuriating sincerity.
Ye Yi's fingers tightened slightly.
Ling Dang buried her face into Ling Shuo's sleeve as if afraid of losing it, curled into herself, whispering over and over—
"Luo… I want to go back… Luo big brother…"
Soft and foolish.
Clumsy and real.
Like a thin little blade, pricking at a place inside him that had never been touched.
Ye Yi let out a low laugh—too quiet, almost like he was mocking himself.
"Starving like this, and you're still thinking about someone else?"
He lifted a hand and patted her cheek. His tone could have frozen bone—yet his fingers, without him noticing, had already eased their force.
"Talk after you wake up. And then…"
His eyes narrowed for a brief moment.
"…We'll see if you still call his name."
But in the half-lidded shadow of his gaze, something slipped through—an emotion even he didn't recognize.
Somewhere in his chest, that near-vanishing "I miss you" stabbed at him in a way that wasn't pleasant.
Like…
he'd been offended.
And also—
Like something had been taken from him.
The sky above the Demon Capital ruins was always gray.
No sunlight. No direction. Only nether miasma rolling like tide—so that with every breath, it felt as if your soul was being ground thinner.
Ye Yi sat at the edge of the Soul Well, fingertips idly tracing the broken array lines.
Everything in Abyssfall was his territory—his nest, built for soul-theft, for demonhood.
—And the only place he could safely lock her away.
He turned his head.
Ling Dang's small figure was tucked into the corner beside a cracked stone couch, arms wrapped around Ling Shuo's coat, trying to make herself as small as possible—as if shrinking enough meant she wouldn't be noticed.
But she still stole glances at him.
Every so often—she would lift her eyes, look for a second, then drop her gaze at once.
Like a startled little animal.
Ye Yi felt irritation rise.
He didn't need that kind of stare.
And yet whenever she looked at him like that, he found himself—absurdly—aware.
She shouldn't look at him that way.
She shouldn't come close.
She shouldn't make him… less like himself.
Ye Yi said coldly, "Come here. Wash your face."
Ling Dang shuddered and hugged the coat tighter, as though protecting the last thing she had.
Still, she stood and walked over.
Her steps were so light they seemed to press into mist.
She stopped in front of him and whispered, "I… I already washed once earlier…"
"Wash again," Ye Yi said flatly.
Ling Dang lowered her head and scooped cold water from a stone basin.
It was as icy as something hauled from the Nether River. She washed until her cheeks turned red, until her eyes stung.
Ye Yi watched, impatience stirring.
He didn't understand why she was so obedient.
He threatened her—she cried.
He was cold—she trembled.
But when he commanded, she never resisted.
As if she was born to rely on this body.
When she finished, she pressed her face into the coat sleeve to dry it.
Her voice was small. "…Is this… okay now?"
Ye Yi stood. Looked down at her.
"Eat."
Ling Dang blinked. "Ah… I'm not hungry…"
Ye Yi's brows tightened.
She immediately raised both hands. "B-but I can eat!"
Ye Yi: "…"
He didn't know why he was feeding her.
And he didn't know why her refusing made him even more annoyed.
He only knew—
Ling Shuo's body could not be starved, or the soul would weaken.
But at some point, the food he prepared stopped being about the body.
He watched her take small bites of coarse grain. Slowly. Like she might cry at any second—but trying so hard to do it right.
Ye Yi frowned. "Why do you eat like you're being tortured?"
Ling Dang answered timidly, "B-because everything here tastes… bitter…"
Ye Yi sneered. "You can't escape and you're still picky?"
Ling Dang shrank, crammed the rest in her mouth—and almost choked.
Ye Yi stared.
Her eyes went red. She coughed from the bite, yet still forced it down.
Like a child afraid of being abandoned.
Something in Ye Yi's chest stirred—restless.
"You idiot…" he muttered.
Ling Dang looked up. "S-sorry…"
Ye Yi's throat caught.
He hadn't been scolding her.
He had been… scolding himself.
He shouldn't look at her.
Shouldn't notice her.
Shouldn't want to change the food because she was eating too painfully.
Shouldn't… want to wipe her tears when she cried.
He turned away, voice cold. "After you finish, go outside the hall. Don't wander."
Ling Dang nodded obediently. "…Okay."
She didn't dare wander anyway—black fog was everywhere, and sometimes terrible sounds rose from nowhere. She didn't know what made them, and she didn't dare find out.
Ye Yi took a few steps, then stopped.
He shouldn't ask.
"Ling Dang."
"…Y-yes."
"What are you doing in the corner every day?"
Ling Dang froze, then whispered, "…I'm afraid of the dark."
Black fog surrounded the Demon Capital.
Ye Yi paused—barely.
Ling Dang clutched the coat, her voice trembling. "…I'm scared of the dark. But if you… if you're there, then I… I won't be so scared."
Ye Yi stopped completely.
Something clenched hard inside his chest.
Ling Dang added clumsily, "Not because of you… it's because that's my brother's shadow…"
Ye Yi's breath sank, heavy in his ribs.
Absurd.
Ridiculous.
And yet… impossible to refute.
—She relied on not him, but this body.
So why did he—
feel a dull, thorny ache because of it?
Ye Yi lifted his hand and tugged the coat up around her shoulders.
As if tucking her in.
As if—without thinking—he'd made the same motion her brother once would have.
Ling Dang froze.
Ye Yi said coldly, "The wind outside is cold."
Then he turned and walked away.
But at the threshold of the hall, Ye Yi admitted something at last—
He hated that she feared the dark.
Hated that she didn't eat.
Hated that she cried against this body.
Hated that she worried about him in that stupid way.
But more than any of it—
He hated his own reactions.
Hated that her tears softened him.
That her fear irritated him.
That her dependence… could shake him.
—He was beginning to hate seeing her hurt.
The wind of Abyssfall cut like knives.
Standing before the Soul Well, Ye Yi realized—
this hatred…
felt like a poison called caring.
And he had already been infected.