THE ROOM WAS STILL. THE CRACKLE OF THE FIRE HAD FADED TO A SOFT GLOW, AND THE SHADOWS THAT HAD DANCED ON THE WALLS NOW RESTED QUIETLY, LIKE WITNESSES WHO HAD FINISHED THEIR TESTIMONY. SIYUN STOOD THERE, BREATHING DEEPLY, HIS HEART STILL HEAVY FROM WHAT HAD JUST UNFOLDED. HIS GRANDFATHER—THE MAN HE THOUGHT DEAD, THE MAN WHO HAD HAUNTED HIS DREAMS AND MEMORIES—WAS ALIVE. ALIVE, YET SHROUDED IN SECRETS THAT WEIGHED MORE THAN THE STONE WALLS AROUND THEM.
HIS GRANDFATHER'S VOICE CUT THROUGH THE SILENCE, DEEP AND STEADY, LIKE AN OLD TREE ROOTED DEEP INTO THE EARTH.
"SIYUN," HE SAID, HIS EYES COLD BUT NOT WITHOUT A STRANGE TENDERNESS, "TODAY HAS BEEN A HEAVY DAY FOR YOU. ENOUGH FOR ANY YOUNG HEART TO BREAK. YOU MUST REST NOW. FROM TOMORROW, YOUR PATH WILL BEGIN IN EARNEST. YOU WILL HAVE MANY TASKS TO SHOULDER."
THE WORDS DIDN'T FEEL LIKE ADVICE. THEY FELT LIKE ORDERS. UNAVOIDABLE. IRONCLAD.
SIYUN NODDED, HIS LIPS DRY, HIS EYES STILL FLICKERING WITH IMAGES OF THE PAST AND THE FACE HE HAD JUST SEEN. BUT BEFORE HE COULD REPLY, ANOTHER VOICE ENTERED THE ROOM—SOFTER, LIGHTER, LIKE A BREEZE FLOWING THROUGH THE STALE AIR.
"COME," SHE SAID.
SIYUN TURNED SLIGHTLY. BEHIND HIM, SHE STOOD QUIETLY, HER FIGURE FRAMED BY THE DIM TORCHLIGHT. HE HAD NOT NOTICED HER PRESENCE EARLIER—OR PERHAPS SHE HAD BEEN THERE THE WHOLE TIME, LIKE A SHADOW WAITING FOR HER MOMENT.
HER NAME WAS AYAME.
IT SUITED HER—CALM, DELICATE, BUT WITH A DEPTH THAT FELT UNFATHOMABLE. HER EYES HELD A CERTAIN STILLNESS, YET THEY ALSO WATCHED EVERYTHING.
SHE WALKED FORWARD WITH GRACE, GESTURING FOR SIYUN TO FOLLOW.
"COME WITH ME, SIYUN. YOUR ROOM IS READY. LET'S GET YOU SOME REST. YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH ENOUGH FOR ONE DAY."
SIYUN LOOKED BACK AT HIS GRANDFATHER, WHO ONLY GAVE A SMALL NOD. THAT WAS ENOUGH. WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD, HE FOLLOWED AYAME OUT INTO THE COLD HALLWAY.
THE CORRIDOR WAS QUIET, SAVE FOR THE ECHO OF THEIR FOOTSTEPS (TAP… TAP… TAP…). THE AIR WAS COOL, AND THE TORCHES MOUNTED ON THE STONE WALLS CAST WAVERING SHADOWS THAT SEEMED TO FOLLOW THEM LIKE SPIRITS.
AYAME WALKED JUST AHEAD OF HIM, HER HANDS CLASPED BEHIND HER BACK, HER POSTURE STRAIGHT AND CONFIDENT. SHE GLANCED OVER HER SHOULDER, A SMALL SMILE ON HER FACE.
"YOU SEEM… TROUBLED," SHE SAID CASUALLY, AS IF TO LIGHTEN THE WEIGHT THAT SAT ON HIS CHEST.
SIYUN STAYED SILENT AT FIRST. HIS MIND WAS A TANGLE OF THOUGHTS—THE PAST, HIS GRANDPA, HIS PARENTS, THE MYSTERIES HE COULDN'T YET GRASP.
"OF COURSE," SHE CONTINUED, "ANYONE WOULD BE TROUBLED. TO CARRY SO MUCH ALONE AND THEN LEARN EVERYTHING IS DIFFERENT THAN WHAT YOU BELIEVED…"
HER VOICE WAS NEITHER MOCKING NOR SYMPATHETIC. IT WAS SIMPLE, HONEST, AND THAT SOMEHOW MADE SIYUN FEEL LESS DEFENSIVE.
"IT DOESN'T MATTER," HE FINALLY SAID, HIS VOICE LOW, ALMOST A WHISPER. "WHAT'S DONE IS DONE. THE ONLY THING LEFT IS WHAT I MUST DO."
AYAME LOOKED AT HIM CURIOUSLY. "AND WHAT IS THAT?"
HE STOPPED WALKING FOR A MOMENT. HIS EYES FELL TO THE STONE FLOOR, HIS HANDS TIGHTENING INTO FISTS.
"…REVENGE."
THE WORD LEFT HIS LIPS LIKE A BLADE DRAWN FROM ITS SHEATH. COLD. FINAL.
AYAME'S SMILE DID NOT FALTER, BUT HER EYES NARROWED EVER SO SLIGHTLY, STUDYING HIM. "STRONG WORDS FOR SOMEONE WHO HASN'T EVEN RESTED YET."
SIYUN LOOKED AWAY, SLIGHTLY EMBARRASSED BY HIS OWN OUTBURST. "I… I JUST… I CAN'T LET IT GO."
"NO ONE ASKED YOU TO," SHE SAID GENTLY. "BUT FOR NOW… REST. TOMORROW, YOUR TEACHERS WILL BEGIN YOUR LESSONS. YOU MUST BE PREPARED. STUDY COMES FIRST."
THE WAY SHE SAID IT WASN'T JUST A REMINDER. IT FELT LIKE AN ORDER THAT HAD BEEN GIVEN TO HER BY HIS GRANDFATHER.
"STUDY…" HE MUTTERED.
AYAME NODDED. "ENGLISH, COMMERCE, BASIC KNOWLEDGE. IN THE MORNING. AND AFTER THAT, FITNESS, MARTIAL TRAINING. AND AT NIGHT… WELL, THE LESSONS OF THE MIND. CONTROL. DISCIPLINE. POKER FACE, AS THEY SAY. ALL OF IT WILL SHAPE YOU."
"POKER FACE…?" SIYUN RAISED AN EYEBROW.
AYAME LET OUT A QUIET LAUGH. "TO SURVIVE IN THIS WORLD, SOMETIMES THE FACE YOU WEAR IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN THE TRUTH YOU HOLD INSIDE. YOU'LL UNDERSTAND SOON."
FINALLY, THEY ARRIVED AT HIS ROOM. AYAME PUSHED OPEN THE HEAVY WOODEN DOOR, AND THE SCENT OF CLEAN SHEETS AND BURNING INCENSE DRIFTED OUT.
THE ROOM WAS SIMPLE BUT WARM. A LARGE BED COVERED WITH DARK FABRIC, A SMALL WOODEN TABLE WITH A LAMP, AND A WINDOW THAT LOOKED OUT INTO THE NIGHT SKY.
AYAME TURNED TO HIM, HER VOICE SOFTER NOW.
"THIS WILL BE YOUR ROOM. GET SOME REST. TOMORROW IS THE START OF MANY LONG DAYS. DINNER WILL BE BROUGHT SHORTLY. EAT, EVEN IF IT'S NOT MUCH."
SIYUN NODDED, ALTHOUGH HIS STOMACH STILL FELT HEAVY WITH EMOTIONS.
AYAME PAUSED FOR A MOMENT, HER EYES STUDYING HIM AGAIN. THEN SHE GAVE A SMALL BOW AND STEPPED OUT, LEAVING HIM ALONE.
DINNER CAME SHORTLY AFTER—STEAMING RICE, VEGETABLES, AND A SMALL PIECE OF MEAT. HE ATE WITHOUT MUCH APPETITE, JUST ENOUGH TO FILL THE VOID IN HIS STOMACH. THE FOOD WAS GOOD, BETTER THAN ANYTHING HE HAD EATEN IN YEARS, BUT HIS MIND WAS ELSEWHERE.
WHEN HE FINISHED, HE LAY DOWN ON THE BED, STARING UP AT THE CEILING. THE ROOM WAS QUIET EXCEPT FOR THE DISTANT SOUND OF THE WIND (WHOOSH… WHOOSH…) AND THE SOFT CREAK OF WOOD.
CLOSING HIS EYES, THE MEMORIES RETURNED—BROKEN, FAINT, LIKE SHARDS OF GLASS SCATTERED ACROSS HIS MIND. HE WAS TOO YOUNG BACK THEN, TOO SMALL TO REMEMBER CLEARLY, YET THE FEELINGS WERE STILL THERE.
THE SHADOWS OF HIS PARENTS' FACES. THE WARMTH OF THEIR HANDS. THE SOUND OF LAUGHTER, THEN THE SOUND OF CRIES.
NOTHING COMPLETE. NOTHING WHOLE. JUST PIECES. SCARS.
HIS TEETH CLENCHED. HIS HANDS GRIPPED THE SHEETS.
"ONE DAY…" HE MURMURED TO HIMSELF. "ONE DAY, I'LL UNCOVER IT ALL. THE TRUTH. THE LIES. THE BLOOD. AND WHEN I DO… THEY'LL PAY."
HIS VOICE WAS BARELY AUDIBLE, BUT THE WEIGHT OF HIS WORDS FILLED THE ROOM LIKE A CURSE.
HIS EYES GREW HEAVY, THE DARKNESS OF SLEEP PULLING HIM IN.
AND AS HE DRIFTED OFF, THE SAME QUESTION RETURNED TO HAUNT HIM:
WOULD HIS REVENGE LEAD HIM INTO THE LIGHT—OR WOULD HE, LIKE FRAGILE GLASS, SHATTER AND FALL INTO THE DARK ABYSS?