The red lantern did not sway in the rain.
It hung perfectly still above the narrow courtyard, its light turning the falling water into strands of dim ruby. The droplets curved as they passed through the lantern's glow, bending away as if the air itself had been trained to obey.
Sung Jin Ezio stood beneath the archway, soaked through, throat tight. The woman in dark silk watched him with the calm patience of someone who had already decided what he was.
Not a person.
A possibility.
"Do you want to stop feeling small?" she asked again, voice soft enough that it sounded like kindness.
Ezio opened his mouth. No sound came out. His pride fought one last time—weak, embarrassed, and late.
Lucifer's whisper slid behind his ear.
Say yes, kiddo. Not because you trust her. Because you're starving.
Ezio forced himself to breathe.
"I don't know what you want from me," he said.
The woman's smile deepened by a fraction. "Honesty. Good. Most people offer me lies like flowers."
She stepped closer. Up close, Ezio could smell her—something sweet and faintly metallic, like crushed petals mixed with a single drop of blood. Her eyes were the kind that didn't blink often. Not out of arrogance.
Out of focus.
They stayed on his face as if she were reading a script written beneath his skin.
"My name is Madam Vesper," she said. "Not my first. Not my last. The one that survives."
Ezio's fingers curled at his sides. "You're… Casanova?"
Vesper's lips tilted. "Casanova is a banner. A mouth. A story people tell themselves when they want to pretend desire is harmless."
She lifted her hand and the rain around her drew back again, making a clear circle in the storm.
"We are the Crimson Pavilion," she continued. "And we offer arts that do not require you to be born with a blade in your soul."
Ezio swallowed. "And the price?"
Lucifer chuckled. Good boy. Ask about the knife before you put it in your mouth.
Vesper's gaze did not flicker. "The price is always the same," she said. "You will be seen."
Ezio felt his stomach drop.
"I've been seen before," he muttered. "It didn't help."
Vesper stepped past him, moving toward the shadowed corridor beyond the courtyard. She didn't look back when she spoke.
"You have been noticed," she corrected. "There is a difference."
Ezio hesitated only a heartbeat.
Then he followed.
The eastern wing of the university was older than most students knew. It had been built when the campus was smaller, when sect politics were less polite and blood ran more openly through the courtyards. The stones here held old stains. The lanterns glowed dimmer. The air carried a faint spiritual pressure like a memory pressing down.
Vesper led him through a narrow archway and along a passage lined with carved panels. The carvings showed scenes of lovers embracing, but the details were wrong—fingers curling too tightly, smiles too sharp, eyes half-lidded in ways that didn't belong to affection.
Ezio's skin prickled.
Lucifer murmured, This isn't romance. This is training wheels for predation.
At the end of the passage was a door without a sign.
Vesper pressed her palm to it. The wood did not creak open like normal doors. It parted silently, as if the air itself was making room.
Warmth spilled out.
Ezio stepped inside and stopped.
The Crimson Pavilion was not a dojo.
It was a world designed to make you forget you were being hunted.
Red silk curtains hung from the ceiling like flowing blood. Lanterns glowed behind carved screens, their light softened into a constant twilight. The floor was polished black stone with thin lines of silver inlaid—arrays, delicate as hair strands. The air smelled of incense and crushed flowers and something that reminded Ezio of candle smoke after a funeral.
Mirrors were everywhere.
Not small ones. Full-length mirrors set into pillars, mirrors framed by carved wood, mirrors hanging like paintings. Some reflected the room normally. Others showed slightly different angles. A few… did not show Ezio at all.
He looked away quickly.
Vesper watched him without expression. "Do you know why mirrors are used here?"
Ezio's mouth felt dry. "For vanity?"
Lucifer sighed. Kiddo, you're making me regret helping you.
Vesper's voice remained calm. "For truth. A blade shows you the body. A mirror shows you the lie your mind tells itself."
She walked toward the center of the hall. Ezio followed as if pulled by gravity.
There were other people inside.
Not many.
A kitsune girl reclined on a low couch, foxlike eyes half closed, nine faint tails barely visible as shadows behind her. A pale man with dark lips leaned near a lantern—vampire, Ezio realized, though the man's smile was too polite to be human. Two others stood near an inner curtain, their faces beautiful in a way that felt manufactured.
None of them wore obvious sect robes.
They didn't need to.
The Pavilion didn't announce itself like a martial hall. It seeped into you. It wrapped itself around your attention until you couldn't tell where you ended and it began.
Vesper stopped before a mirror framed in silver filigree. The glass was slightly dark, like smoked crystal.
"Stand here," she said.
Ezio's feet felt heavy. Still, he stepped forward.
The mirror showed him—wet hair, tired eyes, cheap jacket—but the reflection looked… flatter than reality. Like a sketch of him, unfinished.
Vesper stood beside him, and her reflection appeared too. The mirror made her eyes seem deeper. Older.
"Breathe," she said.
Ezio did.
"In," Vesper guided. "Hold. Out."
He followed, and felt foolish doing it.
Then Vesper's voice lowered.
"Now listen."
Ezio frowned. "To what?"
"To the space between what people show and what they feel," she said. "Illusion is not images. Illusion is permission. You do not force someone to see what you want. You make them want to see it."
Lucifer's whisper was amused. She's not wrong. That's why this place kills nations.
Vesper lifted two fingers and touched Ezio's forehead lightly—just above the bridge of his nose. The touch was gentle, almost parental, and it made Ezio's muscles tense.
A pulse of cool qi slipped into him.
Not violent. Not invasive.
Just… present.
Ezio gasped softly.
The world shifted.
Not visually. The colors didn't change.
But suddenly the room had layers.
Behind the kitsune's smile, Ezio could feel a thin, sharp hunger—attention hunger, the need to be watched. Behind the vampire's stillness, he sensed a faint heat like restrained thirst. Behind one of the beautiful disciples, Ezio felt a tremor—fear, hidden under practiced calm.
Ezio's eyes widened.
Vesper watched him closely. "What do you feel?"
Ezio swallowed. "They're… noisy."
The kitsune laughed without opening her eyes. "He can feel it already."
Vesper did not smile. "Not enough to be useful. Yet."
She stepped away from him and walked to the kitsune. "Speak."
The kitsune opened her eyes and looked at Ezio.
Her gaze was warm. Familiar. For a split second Ezio's chest tightened as if he had known her for years.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
Ezio blinked.
The words hit him like a memory—his ex-girlfriend's voice, the same softness, the same practiced sadness.
He took a step forward without meaning to.
Lucifer's voice snapped like a whip. Stop. She's mirroring you, kiddo.
Ezio froze, and the warmth broke. Underneath it he felt the kitsune's real emotion—amusement, curiosity, and a thin blade of contempt.
His face flushed.
Vesper's voice cut through. "Now tell me. Was she honest?"
Ezio's throat worked. "No."
"How do you know?" Vesper asked.
Ezio forced himself to focus on what he had felt: the warmth that wasn't real, the faint contempt under it.
"The emotion didn't match," he said slowly. "She said one thing, but felt another."
Vesper nodded once. "Good. That is your first lesson."
She turned back to Ezio and tapped the mirror lightly.
"Lies distort qi," she said. "Not always in large ways. Often in small, almost invisible tremors. Fear spikes. Desire pulls. Guilt constricts. Pride inflates."
Her eyes narrowed slightly. "If you learn to sense these things, you can predict what people will do before they do it."
Ezio stared at the mirror.
For the first time since the message, he felt something sharper than grief.
Not confidence.
But a knife's edge of control.
Lucifer's whisper was delighted. Welcome to the real cultivation, kiddo. The kind they don't teach in righteous halls.
Vesper led him deeper into the Pavilion, through an inner curtain that smelled of spice and smoke. The room beyond was smaller and darker. Here the mirrors were fewer, but the walls were lined with thin spools of silk—some pale, some crimson, some black as ink.
Weapons.
But not the kind Ezio had expected.
On a low table lay a pair of bracelets, elegant as jewelry. Nearby, a hairpin shaped like a flower. A fan painted with falling petals. A small lacquered box the size of a palm.
Vesper picked up the bracelets and held them out.
"Do you know what these are?" she asked.
Ezio shook his head.
"Silk Thread Blades," Vesper said. "The Crimson Pavilion does not favor heavy weapons. We favor what can be hidden. What can be denied."
Ezio took the bracelets carefully. They were cool to the touch. Too light. Too harmless.
Lucifer murmured, Everything lethal looks harmless before it kills you. Remember that.
Vesper gestured toward a pillar where a strip of cloth hung like a training target. "Wear them."
Ezio slid them onto his wrists.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then he felt it—faint tension, like invisible strings attached to his bones.
"Focus on your breath," Vesper instructed. "And extend your qi to your fingertips."
Ezio tried.
Nothing.
He tried again, harder, pushing his qi outward. A small flare of pressure formed at his fingertips and immediately collapsed.
His head throbbed.
Vesper's gaze was calm, but not gentle. "Again."
Ezio gritted his teeth and tried a third time.
A whisper-thin thread slid out from the bracelet, nearly invisible in the dim light. It stretched toward the training cloth and quivered like a living hair.
Ezio's eyes widened.
Then the thread snapped back, stinging his wrist sharply. Pain shot up his arm.
Ezio hissed.
Lucifer laughed quietly. Oh, that's funny. You thought power would feel good.
Vesper did not react. "Your qi is weak. Your control is weaker. That is fine."
Ezio rubbed his wrist, anger rising. "Fine? It hurt."
"It's supposed to," Vesper said. "If you can't tolerate pain, you have no business touching other people's hearts."
She lifted the lacquered box and opened it.
Inside were needles.
So small they looked like slivers of moonlight.
"Whisper Needles," Vesper said. "We use them rarely. They are not for killing. They are for… persuasion."
Ezio's gaze fixed on them. He could feel a faint aura coming from the needles—thin, cold, sticky.
"What do they do?" he asked.
Vesper's smile was almost invisible. "That depends on what you brew into them. Fear. Obsession. Trust. Shame."
Ezio swallowed.
A part of him wanted to turn away.
A part of him leaned closer.
Lucifer purred. Greed. There it is.
Vesper closed the box. "You will not touch these yet."
Ezio's cheeks heated. He hadn't realized his hunger was visible.
Vesper turned back to the silk threads. "The first weapon you will learn is not the needle. It is the web."
She stepped behind Ezio and placed her fingers lightly on his wrists, guiding his posture.
"Relax," she said. "You're already tense enough to snap."
Ezio forced his shoulders to loosen.
Vesper's voice softened, almost instructive. "Your silk is an extension of your nerves. Not a rope you throw. Not a blade you swing. A sense."
She guided his wrists outward. "Extend."
Ezio inhaled.
He pushed qi toward the bracelets again—slower this time. Not force. Not desperation. A careful thread of intent.
A thin strand emerged. Then another. Then a third.
They hung in the air, faint as spider silk.
Ezio held his breath.
The threads quivered.
He felt them.
Not with his eyes.
With something inside his skin.
He could feel the air moving around them, could feel the tiny changes when his trembling hand shifted.
His eyes widened again, but this time with something like awe.
Vesper murmured, "Good."
Lucifer's whisper was quieter now. Careful, kiddo. Awe is how they get you addicted.
Vesper pointed toward the table. "See that ring?"
A plain copper ring sat near the edge.
"Take it," she said, "without moving your hands."
Ezio frowned. "Without moving—?"
"Without moving," Vesper repeated. "If you can't steal without reaching, you'll be caught before you begin."
Ezio focused on the ring. He extended his threads.
They drifted toward it, trembling, slow. It felt like trying to thread a needle with shaking hands while blindfolded.
One thread brushed the table and snapped back painfully.
Ezio hissed again.
Lucifer laughed. Your web is a drunk spider. Pathetic.
Ezio's jaw tightened. He tried again, adjusting his breath.
In.
Hold.
Out.
The thread touched the ring.
Ezio felt the contact like a whisper against his fingertip.
He tried to pull.
The thread trembled and slid off.
He tried again.
This time the ring shifted slightly.
His heart pounded.
Again.
The ring slid an inch.
Sweat mixed with rain on his skin, though he hadn't been outside for minutes.
Again.
The ring finally lifted, hovering shakily above the table.
Ezio's eyes widened.
Then his vision blurred, nausea rising suddenly as if his body rejected the strain. The ring dropped with a small clink.
Ezio stumbled, catching himself on the pillar. His stomach churned.
Vesper watched without pity. "Your qi is weak," she said again. "This art will punish weakness. It's honest."
Ezio wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "So I can't do it."
"You did it," Vesper corrected. "For a breath. That is enough for today."
Lucifer whispered, She's right. You're still nobody. But now you're a nobody holding a knife.
Later, Vesper brought him to a small meditation chamber behind a mirror wall. The chamber was colder than the rest of the Pavilion, the air clean and sharp. A shallow bowl of water sat at the center, and above it hung a single mirror.
"You will meditate here," Vesper said.
Ezio sat on the cushion, legs stiff.
Lucifer's voice was softer. This is where they hollow you out and fill you with their poison.
Vesper knelt opposite him. In her hands she held a thin scroll.
"This is a basic illusion breathing method," she said. "Not a true manual. A primer."
Ezio's gaze flicked to the scroll.
A manual.
Knowledge.
His hunger sharpened.
Vesper's eyes narrowed. "Do not think you can steal everything you see."
Ezio flinched. "I didn't—"
"You did," Vesper said flatly. "Your desire spiked. It constricted your qi. It's visible."
Ezio's cheeks burned.
Lucifer chuckled. Told you. Greed looks ugly in a mirror.
Vesper placed the scroll down, but did not let go of it. "Illusion cultivation is not about forcing the world. It's about aligning your intent with what people already want."
She dipped a finger into the bowl of water and drew a circle on its surface. The circle held for a moment, then dissolved.
"Your first goal is to form an Illusion Seed," she said. "Not a core. Not power. A seed."
Ezio nodded slowly.
Vesper's voice lowered. "Close your eyes. Breathe. Imagine the feeling you had when you begged."
Ezio's throat tightened.
He didn't want to.
But he did.
He remembered the message. The silence. The humiliation of chasing someone who didn't turn back.
His chest hurt.
"Now," Vesper said, "do not push it away. Do not drown in it. Hold it like a flame in your palm."
Ezio breathed.
In.
Hold.
Out.
The ache settled into a shape inside him. Not overwhelming. Not gone. Contained.
"Feel what it wants," Vesper whispered. "What did your pain want?"
Ezio's voice came out rough. "To be… seen."
"Good," Vesper said. "Now feed that desire into your qi flow—slowly."
Ezio guided his qi along his meridians carefully, letting the emotion ride with it. It felt wrong at first, like mixing blood into water.
Then, faintly, something changed.
A small warmth gathered behind his sternum. Not strong. Not bright.
But real.
A seed.
Ezio's eyes fluttered open.
Vesper watched him like a physician watching a wound.
"You felt it," she said.
Ezio swallowed. "Yes."
Lucifer's whisper was almost respectful. Tiny. Pathetic. But it's yours.
Ezio's hands trembled slightly. "So this is… cultivation?"
"This is the beginning," Vesper replied. "You are still no one. Do not mistake a seed for a tree."
Ezio nodded.
He wanted more.
He hated himself for wanting more.
Vesper stood. "Come."
She led him into a side chamber that looked older than the rest of the Pavilion. Here the lantern light was dim and the mirrors were covered by cloth. A small table sat in the center, and on it lay a deck of worn cards.
Ezio frowned. "What is this?"
Vesper sat and gestured for him to sit opposite.
"A reading," she said. "Not superstition. A mirror of patterns. Fate leaves footprints. People like you step in them."
Lucifer snorted. Oh, we're doing theater now. Lovely.
Vesper ignored the voice Ezio couldn't admit he heard. She shuffled the deck with practiced hands. The cards made a soft, dry sound like leaves rubbing together.
"Hold the deck," she told Ezio. "Think of what you want."
Ezio's fingers closed around the cards.
What he wanted was not noble.
He wanted to never beg again.
He wanted control.
He wanted to take what the world refused to give.
When he handed the deck back, Vesper drew the first card and placed it face up.
A figure in chains.
"Bondage," Vesper said. "Not physical. Emotional. You were bound by devotion."
Ezio's stomach clenched.
Vesper drew the second.
A coin spilling from a torn pouch.
"Greed," she said, voice steady. "Not for gold alone. For knowledge. For advantage. For more."
Ezio's throat tightened.
Lucifer's whisper was delighted. That's my kiddo. Hungry.
Vesper drew the third.
A pair of lovers beneath a blade.
"Lust," she said.
Ezio's face heated. "I'm not—"
"Lust is not sex," Vesper cut in. "It is wanting. Craving. Needing to possess something that can leave you."
She tapped the card lightly. "You do not want bodies. You want certainty."
Ezio went still.
Vesper drew the fourth.
A mirror cracked down the center.
"Division," she said quietly. Her eyes lifted to his. "You will not be one person for long."
Ezio's fingers tightened on his knees.
Lucifer's voice was soft now, almost amused. She sees me. Cute.
Vesper drew the fifth card and placed it at the center.
A spider web stretched across a black moon.
"The Web," she said.
Ezio's breath caught.
Vesper's gaze held his like a nail. "Greed and lust," she said, "are a dangerous combination. Greed makes you take. Lust makes you attach. Together they make you powerful… and reckless."
Ezio's voice came out thin. "So what happens?"
Vesper leaned forward slightly. "If you let greed drive you, you will steal paths meant for immortals and burn your own soul."
Ezio swallowed hard.
"If you let lust drive you," Vesper continued, "you will mistake obsession for love and let someone put a leash on your throat."
Ezio's chest tightened.
Vesper's voice softened, but the softness was not mercy. It was inevitability.
"And if you let both drive you," she said, "you will become a legend…"
A pause.
"…and you will be hunted like one."
Silence filled the chamber.
Ezio stared at the cards until his eyes ached.
Lucifer broke the quiet with a soft chuckle. Sounds fun.
Ezio's hands trembled. "Why tell me this?"
Vesper's smile returned—small, controlled.
"Because the Crimson Pavilion does not invest in people who don't know their own poison," she said. "If you're going to walk into darkness, you should at least recognize the shape of it."
Ezio looked up. "And you… what do you want from me?"
Vesper's eyes did not blink. "I want to see what a nobody becomes when you give him the right tools," she said. "I want to see if you can steal without being caught, desire without being owned, and survive the attention you will inevitably invite."
Lucifer whispered, She wants a weapon. Congratulations, kiddo.
Ezio's stomach turned, but he didn't look away.
"Am I joining the sect?" he asked.
Vesper's answer was immediate. "Not yet."
Ezio frowned.
"You are too weak," Vesper said calmly. "You are still nobody. The Pavilion does not announce nobodies. It uses them."
The words should have insulted him.
Instead, they felt like truth.
Vesper stood and moved toward the door. "Tonight," she said, "you will return to your dormitory. You will sleep. Tomorrow you will come back, and we will begin again."
Ezio rose, unsteady.
At the threshold, Vesper paused and glanced back. "One more thing," she said.
Ezio waited.
Vesper's voice turned quiet. "Do not fall in love with power. It will not love you back."
Lucifer laughed softly in Ezio's mind. Too late.
Ezio stepped out into the hall. The air felt colder. The lanterns dimmer. The university louder in the distance, as if reminding him it was still the same world.
He was still soaked. Still weak. Still unknown.
But inside his chest, behind his sternum, a tiny warmth remained—an Illusion Seed no larger than a spark.
It didn't make him strong.
It made him possible.
And as he walked back toward the rain, Lucifer's voice followed him like a shadow.
"Good job, kiddo," it said. "You didn't become powerful."
A pause, satisfied.
"You became hungry."