I keep walking.
Away from her.
The night air hits my face—cold, sharp, alive. Each breath leaves a tiny cloud of white that disappears almost instantly. The kind of cold that makes you feel awake. Makes you feel real.
I smiled.
Just a little.
Just enough to notice.
Why am I smiling?
I don't know.
But here I am.
The field stretches around me, endless in the darkness.
The grass whispers with each step, crushing softly beneath my feet. Above, the sky is littered with lights—thousands of them, millions, scattered across the black like someone threw diamonds at velvet.
And the moons.
So many of them.
Dozens. Maybe more. Scattered across the sky like someone hung lanterns and forgot to take them down. Some bright white. Some pale yellow. Some with that soft orange tint, like they're warming themselves.
How many are there?
I tried to count.
Get to twenty-three before I lost track.
Too many.
Beautiful, but too many.
The grass is soft. Softer than anything in Aventic. I want to lay down on it. Just sprawl out and stare at the sky and forget everything for a while. Let the cold seep into my bones and the stars burn into my memory.
But I kept walking.
Toward home.
They're waiting.
The field gradually gives way to the path. Then the path becomes the road. The familiar road. The one I've walked a dozen times now.
I reach the edge where the field ends and the village begins.
I stopped.
Turned around.
Looked back.
She's still there.
A tiny figure in white, barely visible in the darkness. Standing in the same spot. Watching. Or maybe not watching. Maybe just... existing. Like she does.
She's a headache sometimes.
I chuckled.
Quiet. To myself.
But probably she's not a bad person.
Probably.
I turned back around.
Kept walking.
•••
The village is quiet.
Not the tense quiet of Aventic—not the silence before an attack, before death. Just... peaceful quiet. The kind that comes from everyone being asleep. From no one being afraid.
Lights flickered in a few windows. Late-night readers. Insomniacs. People like me who couldn't seem to find rest.
I passed the first houses. Small. Simple. Nothing like the modern six-room mansion I'm walking toward.
Six rooms.
For three people.
Idiot father.
The path winds past the vegetable plots. Past the spot where I first saw the old woman shelling peas. Past the corner where kids play during the day with their rag ball.
At night, it's empty.
Just me and the moons.
The river appears ahead.
Not the one at the village edge—the smaller one. The one that cuts through the middle, dividing the village in two. A stone bridge spans it, old but sturdy, the kind they built centuries ago that'll probably last centuries more.
I stepped onto the bridge.
Stopped halfway.
Looked down.
The water is dark. Impossible to see through. But the moons—all of them—reflect off the surface. Dozens of tiny ripples of light dancing on the current. Multiplying. Blurring together.
Beautiful.
In a way that hurts.
I listened.
The water burbled. Soft. Constant. The same sound it's been making for centuries, probably. The same sound it'd keep making long after I'm gone.
This place.
It makes you think about things.
Makes you slow down.
Makes you notice.
I leaned on the stone railing. Cold against my arms. Solid. Real.
I should go.
They're waiting.
But—
Just one more minute.
One minute becomes five.
Five becomes ten.
I don't know how long I stand there, watching the water, watching the moon reflections, watching my own breath turn to fog and disappear.
Thinking about her.
About the way she looked at the sky.
About the way she said "I've never seen stars before."
About the way she made me forget to be scared.
Then—
Young Master.
Not a voice. A feeling. A pull.
Shenhe's glare.
Angy's worried eyes.
They're counting minutes.
They're always counting minutes.
I pushed off the railing.
Walked faster.
The house appeared ahead.
Lights on. Every window glowing. Like they were trying to signal a lost ship.
Definitely counting minutes.
I reached the gate.
Stopped.
Listened.
Clang.
Metal on metal.
Clang. CLANG. CLANG.
Fast. Rhythmic. Relentless. Coming from the back.
The training area.
I know that sound. I've made that sound a thousand times. Blades meeting blades. Steel singing in the night.
But this is different.
Faster.
Much faster.
I walk around the side instead of going in. Past the garden. Past the spot where Mochi likes to sit and judge passersby. To the small clearing behind the house where I sometimes practice with my blades.
And stop.
They're sparring.
Shenhe and Angy.
In their maid outfits.
Blades flashing in the moonlight—real blades, Azinthenium, the kind that can cut through Duman hide like butter. Moving so fast I can barely track them.
No—moving so fast I can't track them.
Teleporting.
That's what it looks like.
One moment Shenhe is here. The next, she's there. Not running. Not jumping. Just... there. Angy meets her strike before it fully forms, spins, counters. Their blades sing through the air—high, sharp, beautiful. Deadly.
They can fight.
I knew they could fight.
But not like this.
Not THIS.
I've trained with them. Sparred with them. Thought I knew their capabilities.
I knew nothing.
Shenhe moves like water.
No—like something faster than water. Like something that doesn't follow rules.
Every strike precise. Controlled. Deadly. She doesn't waste movement. Doesn't telegraph. Her blade appears where it needs to be exactly when it needs to be there.
And she's silent.
No grunt of effort. No heavy breathing. Just... nothing.
Silent but deadly.
That's her.
That's always been her.
Angy moves like fire.
Chaotic. Overwhelming. Unpredictable. She's everywhere at once, strikes coming from impossible angles, power behind every swing that shouldn't be possible from someone her size.
But it's not just power.
It's speed.
Impossible speed.
I've fought Demon class Dumans. Moved faster than eyes could follow. Thought I was fast.
Watching them, I realize—
I'm not fast at all.
Shenhe feints left. Angy reads it—or seems to. But Shenhe is already somewhere else, blade arcing toward Angy's exposed side.
Angy twists. Barely avoids. Counters with a strike that should connect—
Shenhe isn't there.
Where—
Behind Angy.
Blade tapping her shoulder.
"Dead," Shenhe says calmly.
No panting. No sweat. Like she just finished a warm-up.
Angy spins, grinning. "That's the third time! You're not even trying!"
"I'm always trying." Shenhe's voice is flat. "You're just predictable."
"I am not predictable!"
"Your left side. You always drop your guard by half a second when you're about to counter."
Angy's mouth opend. Closed. Opend 0eagain.
"...I do?"
"Yes."
"That's—that's not fair! You've known me for seventeen years! Of course you know my habits!"
"Adapt."
"ADAPT?! You're impossible!"
Shenhe's eyebrow twitches. The closest she comes to a smile.
Angy spots me first.
Her eyes flick toward me mid-argument. She freezes—actually freezes—then grins.
"Well, well, well. Look who finally decided to come home."
Shenhe turns.
Looks at me.
Expressionless.
Uh oh.
"Young Master." Her voice is calm. Too calm. "You're back."
"I—"
"Do you know what time it is?"
I glance at the sky. The moons. The position of everything.
"Am I...Late?"
"Four hours." Angy stalks toward me, blade still in hand. "You said ONE hour. It's been FOUR. Do you know what FOUR HOURS means?"
"I can explain—"
"It means Shenhe made dinner. It means dinner got cold. It means I reheated dinner. It means dinner got cold AGAIN. It means Mochi ate part of it because we weren't paying attention. It means—"
"Angy." Shenhe's voice cuts through. Calm. Deadly. "Let me handle this."
She walks toward me.
Blade in hand.
Expressionless.
Oh no.
"Young Master." She stops a few feet away. "You worried us."
"I'm sorry—"
"Four hours."
"I lost track of time—"
"Four. Hours."
"I was talking to someone—"
Shenhe's eyebrow twitches. The only warning.
"Draw your blade."
I blinked.
"What?"
"You heard me." She raises her sword. "You worried us. You broke your promise. You made Angy cry."
"I DID NOT CRY!" Angy shouts from behind. "I had something in my eye! Multiple times! For four hours!"
"You made Angy almost cry." Shenhe doesn't look away from me. "Draw your blade."
She's serious.
She's actually serious.
"You want to fight me?"
"I want to remind you that actions have consequences." A pause. "Also, I want to see if you've improved."
Improved.
Against HER.
I've sparred with Shenhe before. Hundreds of times. Since I was old enough to hold a blade.
I've never won.
Not once.
Not even close.
"Fine."
I flicked my wrist. The nanotech blade flows from my bracelet, solidifying into my palm. Familiar weight. Comfortable grip.
Shenhe nods. Just once.
Then she moves.
I couldn't see it.
I couldn't even sense it.
One moment she's five feet away. The next, her blade is inches from my throat.
I barely block in time.
WHAT THE—
She's already gone.
Behind me.
I spin. Block. She's somewhere else.
Left. Right. Above. Everywhere. Nowhere.
I can't keep up.
I can't even see her.
She's not trying.
I know she's not trying.
Our blades meet—once, twice, three times. Each block is pure instinct. I'm not thinking. Can't think. Just reacting.
Her strikes come from angles that shouldn't exist. Speeds that shouldn't be possible. She's not even breathing hard.
She's been holding back.
Every spar. Every training session. Every time.
She's been holding back.
Her blade taps my shoulder.
"Dead," she says quietly.
I stare at her.
She's not even breathing hard.
What.
What is she.
What have I been living with for seventeen years?
"Young Master." She lowers her blade. "You're faster than last month. Good. But you rely on speed too much. When you meet someone faster, you have nothing."
I couldn't speak.
Angy appeared beside me, grinning.
"Told you Shenhe's scary. She's been terrifying since before you were born."
"You could have warned me."
"And miss that look on your face?" Angy laughs. "Priceless."
Shenhe sheathes her blade. "Your form is improving. Your footwork needs work. Your situational awareness is still poor." A pause.
"But you lasted three exchanges longer than last time."
Three exchanges longer.
That's her version of a compliment.
From Shenhe, that's practically a standing ovation.
"What ARE you?" The words come out before I can stop them.
They exchange a glance.
"Your wives," Angy says simply.
"My Wha—"
"Later." Shenhe's voice is final. "It's late. You need to eat. We'll talk when you're ready."
When I'm ready.
Like there's something to be ready for.
Like there's something they've been waiting to tell me.
For seventeen years.
I didn't ask.
Not yet.
Too tired. Too confused. Too full of questions I'm not ready to hear answers to.
We went inside.
The house is warm. Bright. Smelling of food that's been reheated twice. Maybe three times.
"Young Master." Shenhe gestured to the table. "Eat."
I sit.
They sit across from me.
Watching.
Always watching.
Four hours.
They worried for four hours.
And they're not even mad anymore.
Just... relieved.
That I'm back.
That I'm safe.
That I'm here.
They could kill me in a second.
Both of them.
Easily.
And instead, they made dinner.
Worried about me.
Waited.
I eat.
The food is good. Simple. Warm.
Mochi appears from nowhere. Jumps onto the table. Sits directly in front of me.
Stares.
Those yellow eyes. Judging. Always judging.
"He's deciding your punishment," Angy says helpfully.
"My punishment?"
"Mhm. For making us worry." She nods at the cat. "Mochi is the judge. We are the jury. You are the defendant."
"This is ridiculous."
"Mochi agrees. Look at his face. That's his 'guilty' face."
I looked at Mochi.
Mochi stared back.
I'm being judged by a cat.
After being nearly killed by my maid in a spar.
In another dimension.
Where maids can teleport and cats are judges.
And somehow—
I don't hate it.
Mochi yawns.
Stands.
Walks in a circle on the table.
Sits back down.
"Not guilty!" Angy announces. "Mochi has spoken!"
"Mochi hasn't spoken," Shenhe says flatly.
"He sat down! That's his 'not guilty' sit!"
"That's his 'I'm tired of looking at you' sit."
"Same thing!"
I hide a smile behind my food.
Same thing.
Sure, Angy.
Sure.
After dinner, I showered.
Hot water. Unlimited. The same as always.
I stand under it longer than necessary. Let it wash away the cold, the confusion, the memory of red eyes and impossible speed and maids who could kill me in a heartbeat.
When I came out, my room is dark.
Quiet.
I lay on the bed.
Stared at the ceiling.
The fan spins above me. Same as always.
Twenty-three. Twenty-four. Twenty-five.
I thought about her.
About the field.
About the way she looked at the sky.
About the way she said "I've never seen stars before."
Like she meant it.
Like she'd actually never seen them.
Like she's from somewhere else entirely.
Like me.
The door creaked.
Mochi jumped onto my bed. Walked in a circle. Settled on my chest.
Purred.
I stared at him.
He stared back.
Even the cat knows.
Knows what?
I don't know.
But he knows.
I closed my eyes.
Listen to the purring.
Feel the warmth.
And for the first time in a long time—
I fell asleep easily.
---