So Noir told him.
He spoke about the nightmare that had woken him—that same nightmare that still plagued his sleep. He described the masked figure. The white porcelain face with no features. The scythe.
He told Shin Jin about his mother's last moments. Her fear. Her desperate attempts to shield him with her own body. Her final words: "Even if you become darkness itself—you have to be the one who reflects light."
His voice cracked as he spoke about the blood. About watching her die. About the sound the scythe made as it fell.
About being a helpless child, unable to move, unable to scream, unable to do anything but watch his world shatter.
When Noir finished, he was trembling.
Shin Jin was silent for a long moment.
Then he moved to one of his bookshelves, running his fingers along the spines until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a thin volume, its cover unmarked, and opened it.
Inside were sketches. Different seers' faces, each labeled with a name and description.
Shin Jin stopped on one page.
"These," he said, "are called the Tainted. Seers excised from the Order's records. Erased from history. Their crimes were so severe that even speaking their names became forbidden."
He turned the book toward Noir.
There were five faces on the page.
And the first one... it showed a man with blonde hair and sharp features, looking directly at the artist with crimson cold, intelligent eyes. Beneath the sketch, a single word:
REDACTED
"Why is it redacted?" Noir asked, his voice hoarse.
"Because," Shin Jin said quietly, "some names have so much power that speaking them aloud is dangerous. Speaking them marks you as someone who knows too much. Someone who might need to be silenced."
He turned the page back toward him, studying the redacted face.
"Yuusha would never confirm this, but I believe one of the Tainted wore a white mask. Committed acts so horrific that even his appearance was removed from the record."
Noir's hands were shaking. "You think he killed my mother."
"I think it's possible. Yes."
"And you're just telling me this now? Why didn't Yuusha—"
"Because," Shin Jin interrupted, "if Yuusha suspected the Tainted were involved with you, he would have eliminated you immediately. No hesitation. No second thoughts."
The words struck Noir like a physical blow.
"What? Why would he—"
"Because the Tainted aren't normal seers," Shin Jin said bluntly. "They're corrupted beyond redemption. Marked by darkness so profound that merely being near them can taint a person's spiritual being."
He leaned forward.
"The reason your spiritual being is blurred, Noir, is because you carry a mark. A spiritual stain. It's faint—incredibly faint—but it's there. And the only way you could have gotten it is through prolonged exposure to someone corrupted by the Tainted's darkness."
Noir felt the room spin around him.
"My mother..."
"Your mother was touched by the darkness," Shin Jin said gently. "When your mother died, when she bled... that darkness transferred to you. It's been inside you your whole life. Growing slowly. Quietly."
"But I haven't—I haven't done anything wrong. I haven't corrupted—"
"You haven't," Shin Jin said firmly.
"Because your mother's final words weren't random. They were a curse. A blessing. A mother's desperate attempt to inoculate her child against the darkness she knew would touch him."
He stood and walked to the window again.
"She knew," he said quietly. "Somehow, she knew what was about to happen. And in her final moment, she spoke a truth directly into your soul. A guiding principle. A light."
He turned back to Noir.
"'Even if you become darkness itself—you have to be the one who reflects light.'"
Shin Jin repeated the words slowly, deliberately.
"That isn't a curse, Noir. That's a prophecy. Your mother was telling you that the darkness would come, but you had the choice to resist it. To use it. To become something neither fully darkness nor fully light, but something in between."
Noir felt something break inside him. Not from pain, but from relief. His mother had known. Somehow, impossibly, she had known what would happen and had given him the only defense she could.
"How is that supposed to help me?" Noir asked, his voice steadier now. "If I have this darkness inside me, if I'm marked—"
"It means," Shin Jin said, "that you have potential no normal seer possesses. The Crimson Seer position was cursed because every seer who took it was eventually consumed by their darkness. They couldn't balance it."
He sat back down, his voice dropping.
"But you might be different. You might be able to walk that line. To use the darkness without being consumed by it. To become something unprecedented."
Noir wanted to believe him. He wanted to believe that his mother's final words were more than the desperate gasps of a dying woman.
Shin Jin moved to a locked cabinet and withdrew a cloth bag sealed with a cord. He set it on the desk between them.
"Inside this bag is something that belongs to you," he said. "I've been keeping it safe. Yuusha entrusted it to me the night you joined the Order."
Noir's breath caught.
"He gave it to you?"
"The moment you chose the Crimson Seer position, Yuusha knew where your path was leading. He knew I would eventually have to tell you the truth." Shin Jin's fingers rested on the sealed bag. "So he asked me to hold onto this. To give it to you when you were ready."
Shin Jin carefully loosened the cord and opened the bag.
Inside was the crimson fabric.
Noir's heart stopped.
The emblem had shifted slightly from how he remembered it. The faded color now carried faint threads of silver that seemed to pulse gently in the lamplight, as if the fabric itself had a heartbeat.
"How did he—" Noir started.
"On the night you gave it to him, he didn't burn it. Not because of your request," Shin Jin said softly. "But because that was never his intention. He's been protecting it. Studying it. Learning what it truly is."
He lifted the fabric carefully, letting it unfold.
"This isn't just a keepsake, Noir. It's a conduit. A physical anchor to your mother's final blessing."
Shin Jin set the fabric gently on the desk between them.
"When you hold it," he said, "the darkness inside you quiets. Becomes manageable. It's a tool. Perhaps the most important tool you'll ever possess."
Noir reached for it, then hesitated.
"If I take it back..."
"Then Yuusha will know you've accepted your destiny onwards," Shin Jin finished.
Noir's hand trembled as he reached for the fabric.
The moment his fingers touched it, warmth spread through his palm.
The dark shapes that had haunted him since that moment in the cathedral—they retreated. Quieted. Like predators recognizing a stronger force and backing away.
For the first time since arriving at the Ise Order, Noir felt centered. Whole.
"I understand," he said quietly.
Shin Jin nodded.
He moved toward the door, then paused.
"One more thing," he said. "Don't tell Yuusha I told you any of this. Let him believe you discovered it on your own. It's... important for certain plans."
Then Shin Jin was gone, leaving Noir alone with the crimson fabric clutched in his hands.
Outside, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the city.
Noir held the fabric up to the light, watching those faint silver threads pulse and shimmer.
His mother's blessing.
His curse.
His purpose.
All of it, woven into a single piece of cloth.
He pressed it against his chest, feeling the warmth sink into his skin, reaching that deep place inside him where the darkness lived.
The silver threads flared suddenly, burning bright for just a moment.
As if his mother's blessing had heard him.
As if it approved.