Night fell over the compound like a curtain of ink. Cold air seeped through the old wooden windows, carrying the faint metallic scent of guns and rain. The halls were quieter now — too quiet — as if something heavy hovered over the building.
Pearl had dropped me off at the small room they had prepared for me.A plain bed, a thin blanket, a small lamp.
Nothing special.
But still nicer than anything I ever had at home.
I tried to sleep.
I failed.
My heart refused to calm.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his hand around my wrist, his eyes burning into mine, his voice saying:
"People don't stay near me. They run."
Why would he say that?
Why would he look at me like that?
I tossed under the blanket, restless. The silence was thick and uncomfortable, like a warning.
Then—Footsteps.
Quiet.Measured. Not Pearl's.
Military footsteps.
I sat up, pulse speeding.
Two shadows passed outside my door, their voices low and tense.
"He lost his temper again," one whispered sharply. "He almost broke the guy's jaw."
"It wasn't his fault," the other replied. "Someone messed up the mission today."
My body froze.
Akira.
They kept walking, unaware I was listening.
"It's that girl," the first voice said."He's been distracted since she arrived."
A breath caught painfully in my throat.
Girl.
Me.
Distracting him?
"No wonder the general is on edge," the second muttered. "He never brings civilians into his close circle. Ever."
Their voices faded into the distance, but their words stayed stabbing inside my chest.
I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering despite the warm air.
Why would I affect him?
Why would he affect me?
I tried to lie back down but the walls felt like they were breathing, pressing closer. Something urged me to get up. To walk. To find answers.
So I opened the door, moving silently down the dim hallway.
Soldiers had finished their rounds; only candles flickered in the corners, casting long shadows on the walls.
Then I heard it.
A voice.
His voice.
Low.Controlled. But brittle around the edges.
It was coming from the staircase room at the far end.
I moved closer, careful not to make a sound, stopping just before the open doorway.
Akira stood alone inside, half in the shadows.
His jacket was gone, sleeves rolled up, revealing the scars on his forearm — sharp, pale marks crossing his skin like old battles he never talked about.
His head was bowed over a metal sink, water running as he splashed his face.
His breath trembled.
Akira never trembled.
He gripped the sink edges—the metal bending faintly under his strength—and whispered something so quietly I almost didn't hear it.
"Not again… not again…" His voice cracked. "I can't lose control again."
Lose control?Because of what?Because of… me?
Suddenly he punched the metal sink, a deep, angry blow that echoed like thunder. The entire room vibrated.
I gasped.
His head snapped up.
He had heard me.
Before I could move, Akira turned toward the door — toward me — eyes dark, burning, as if he had just walked out of a nightmare he didn't want me seeing.
He stepped toward me slowly, footsteps soft, dangerous.
"Amane?"
My name sounded like a warning and a plea in one breath.
I froze in place, unable to run even if I wanted to.
He stopped right in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat of his body, the storm in his chest.
His voice was low, softer than the night air.
"You shouldn't wander alone at this hour."
He was trying to sound strict.But the tremor at the edge of his words betrayed him.
"Are…" I swallowed, searching his eyes, "Are you okay?"
His breath hitched—just slightly—but enough for me to know I had touched something deep.
He angled his face away. "You shouldn't have seen that."
I took a tiny step closer, heart pounding.
"You were angry."
A humorless smirk tugged at his lips.
"I am always angry."
"No," I whispered, surprising myself with the boldness. "You were… hurting."
His eyes flicked back to mine. Bright. Sharp. Wounded.
He leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes for a second.
"You don't understand what I am," he murmured."And you shouldn't."
A tense silence filled the space between us.
Then, quietly, he added:
"You're making it worse."
My breath stopped. "Worse… how?"
His eyes opened slowly.Dark. Intense. Like he was fighting something he didn't want to feel.
He stepped forward.
Just an inch. But it felt like the air around us shifted.
His voice dropped to a whisper, the kind that sinks into your skin.
"Because I look at you…and I forget everything that's supposed to matter."
My heart shattered into a million trembling pieces.
He wasn't supposed to say things like that. He wasn't supposed to feel things like that.
Neither was I.
Akira exhaled sharply, turning his face away again, jaw clenched.
"I shouldn't be near you right now."
"Why?"The question slipped out of me like a breath I couldn't hold.
He looked back at me with eyes that held both desire and danger.
"Because," he said softly,"I don't trust myself when I'm this close to you."
Silence.
Heavy. Electrified.Breathless.
A storm waiting to break.
And in that moment, I realized—
I wasn't afraid of his darkness.
I was afraid of how desperately I wanted to step into it.