It had only been a few days since they'd driven off those pursuers. The nights in the ruined city's slums were deep and cold. Through the gaps in the crumbling stone walls, the wind howled endlessly, like someone sobbing somewhere in the distance. In this world where the smoke of tallow lamps stung the eyes, the darkness of night was all the thicker, heavier—crushing the human heart. In the bell tower of Ash Cat Alley, Ashworth Shin leaned against the wall, eyes closed. He wasn't asleep. On the surface of his consciousness, he was sorting through the usual sounds of the night. The skittering of rats, someone coughing far away, the creak of rotting wood swaying in the wind. After eleven years here, anything out of place registered instantly. *—Something's wrong.* Shin opened his eyes. His amber pupils glinted in the dim darkness. A sound that shouldn't have been there echoed from the entrance of Ash Cat Alley. Metal scraping against cobblestone. Rhythmic, heavy footsteps. Multiple. The gait of trained men. And then—a child's scream. Shin rose reflexively, grabbing the crude single-edged sword propped against the wall. He didn't even throw on a cloak; his gaunt body was clad only in tattered cloth armor. Every old wound across his body throbbed and stung with tension. When he burst out of the bell tower, chaos had already begun. Deep in the alley, a small figure lay sprawled on the ground. Ren, a twelve-year-old boy. He was one of the orphans who'd gone out to draw water at night. Three men surrounded him. They wore the heavy armor used for the Imperial Capital's supply corps, cold eyes peering out from beneath their helmets. The Krone Imperial Guard—Crown Prince Grail's private soldiers. A forward unit spreading terror through the slums ahead of the main Ash Hunt. "[cold] Don't move." A low, quiet voice. Shin faced the three men and drew his sword. Tip lowered, stance natural. The Verdun family's technique. Not textbook form—a stance beaten into him to survive real combat. One of the scouts seemed to sneer from within his helmet. "[sarcastic] Hah. A slum rat thinks he can take us on? We may not carry divine artifacts, but this armor and swordsmanship are regular army standard." Shin didn't answer. In that moment, a head of reddish-brown, unruly hair burst out from the shadows. Alice. She held the fallen Ren in her arms, her large green eyes filled with fury and desperation as she looked at Shin. "[serious] Shin! Get the orphans to the bell tower! I'll carry Ren!" "[cold] ...Go on ahead." Alice gave a small nod and dashed back toward the bell tower, carrying Ren. She wasn't afraid. That's how it looked—because she was desperately killing her own fear to protect her comrades. Shin planted himself in the middle of the alley, guarding their retreat. "...Clean this up." The moment he muttered it, Shin kicked off the ground. The first man brought his longsword down from a high overhead stance. Shin shifted his body half a step aside, evading by a hair's breadth. The wind pressure from the blade stirred his dull silver hair. He dove straight into the man's guard and struck his wrist with the sword's pommel. A sickening *crack*—the sound of bone breaking. The man screamed, dropping his sword. Using the momentum, Shin swept the man's legs and slammed his collapsing body against the stone wall. The impact caved in his helmet. Mere seconds passed before the first man fell silent. "[scared] This bastard...!" The second man swung his sword in a panicked horizontal slash. But fear made his movements slightly too wide. Shin ducked low to evade, then slammed the flat of his blade into the man's exposed flank. The shock rippled through the armor, rattling his organs. All the air was forced from the man's lungs; blood-flecked spittle sprayed from the gaps in his helmet. Without pause, Shin seized the second man's arm, wrenched it against the joint, and slammed him face-down onto the cobblestones. The second man stopped moving. *—Where's the third?* But from his blind spot, the last man had been holding his breath. The instant Shin straightened up, the third scout lunged from directly beside him, putting his full weight into a horizontal slash. *Shhk.* A sickening sensation. The blade carved deep into the left side of his abdomen. Searing pain shot through him, his vision flashing white. Shin clenched his teeth, spat blood, and reflexively drove a headbutt into the man's helmet. *CRACK!* The impact staggered the man. Blood dripping from his own abdomen, Shin grabbed the man by the chest and, with sheer force, smashed him headfirst into the bell tower's stone wall. A dull thud. The strength drained from the third man's body. Silence ruled the alley. Shin dropped to his knees. Blood poured endlessly from the wound in his abdomen, dyeing his tattered cloth armor black. The strength left his body; his vision darkened. "...Shin!!" He heard Alice's distant scream. Then, as if being dragged by someone, his consciousness sank into a dark abyss. --- The bell tower's second floor. The orange glow of a tallow lamp faintly illuminated the room. After carrying Shin inside, Alice, though her face had gone pale, never once lost her composure. She gave brief orders to the orphans trembling in the back to keep watch outside. "[serious] If anyone comes, let me know immediately. Okay?" The children nodded, eyes brimming with tears, and scattered to the stairs and windows. Alice looked down at Shin's wound and pressed her lips together. Deep. The color of blood was staining his clothes black. She stripped off her own outer garment, then vigorously tore the hem of the linen tunic she wore underneath. The sound of ripping cloth echoed painfully. Her shoulders and slender arms were exposed to the lamplight. Skin covered in scrapes and bruises. But she paid it no mind at all. "[gentle] ...It's okay. I'll definitely save you." She folded the torn cloth into several layers and pressed it firmly against the wound. Blood immediately soaked the fabric red. Over it, she wrapped another strip of cloth around his abdomen, binding it tightly to stop the bleeding. Her hands did not tremble. Only the desperate look on her face betrayed her fear. At the edge of consciousness, Shin groaned. "...Ngh... ah..." The pain and heat of the wound tormented him. In his hazy consciousness, memories from eleven years ago came flooding out, as if a dam had broken. His dry lips parted. "...Mom... shoved me into the storage chest..." Alice didn't stop her hands, continuing to press down on the cloth. "[whispers] ...Yeah." Her voice was gentle, and quiet. "...Dad's back... blades... so many of them. The hallway... covered in blood... bright red." Shin's amber eyes stared at the ceiling, but saw nothing. He was recounting the night of the massacre eleven years ago, just the facts, in a low voice. There was almost no emotion in it. But his face was contorted—not from pain, but from something he'd kept a lid on for eleven years. "...Mom's voice... stopped... and I... just trembled." A single tear traced down Alice's cheek. She didn't wipe it away, just kept listening to Shin's words. Her hands never rested, continuing to apply pressure to the wound. When Shin's confession ended, Alice spoke, her voice small and strained. "[crying] ...I'm sorry." *—I'm sorry.* Those words, and her tears, pierced something deep in Shin's chest—something tightly shut away. Shin lost his words and stared up at the ceiling. His breathing grew labored, for reasons other than the pain. As Alice continued her work, she began to quietly speak about herself. "[sad] ...I... washed up here when I was seven. I don't even remember the outlines of my parents' faces anymore. There's really... nothing." Her confession was so quiet—and precisely because of that, it placed their two solitudes in the same space. The night slowly deepened. --- When the bleeding had begun to stabilize, Alice pulled Shin's upper garment completely off his shoulders to check the wound's condition. The orange light of the tallow lamp illuminated Shin's scarred torso. Alice herself had used her outer garment for bandages, leaving her in only a thin linen tunic. Her collarbone was exposed. She supported Shin's abdomen and tilted his body to examine the wound. In that moment, Alice's reddish-brown, unruly hair cascaded softly beside Shin's face. Her breath was close enough to brush against his neck. More than the pain, Shin's entire attention was drawn there, and he held his breath. The warmth of her palm touched the bare skin of his stomach directly. It was the first time in eleven years anyone had touched his body at such close range. He couldn't tell if his pounding heart was from the pain or from agitation. The sound of his own heartbeat rang loudly in his ears. "[gentle] ...Okay, the bleeding seems to have stopped. Good." Alice, completely oblivious to Shin's turmoil, looked only at the wound and exhaled in relief. To her, this was purely an extension of the daily routine of tending to a comrade's injuries. But Shin turned his face away and clenched his teeth. *—What the hell am I thinking?* Something ached deeper than the wound in his gut—his own pathetic state. Dawn approached, and faint light began to seep through the cracks in the ceiling. The bleeding had settled, and as Alice wiped the sweat from her brow, Shin spoke in a voice drained of strength. "[serious] ...I never want to lose someone precious right in front of me again." It was completely different from his usual catchphrases—"Like I care," "What a pain." "...I'll get stronger. Protect everyone." Alice, her face still bearing the traces of tears, smiled brightly nonetheless. "[gentle] ...Yeah. I believe you." A short reply. But deep in Shin's chest, the act of saying the word "protect" to someone for the first time in eleven years burned painfully—and fiercely. --- The next morning. When Shin awoke from a sleep that was more like unconsciousness, Alice was still sitting right beside him, having dozed off while checking on his wound's recovery. Her small shoulders rose and fell quietly. Outside, there was a bit of a commotion. Wincing at the pain in his body, Shin pressed a hand against the wall, stood up, and peered out the window. The residents of Ash Cat Alley had gathered in the square below the bell tower. At the center was even Kurtz, the broker from the Bone Fang Market. He'd apparently heard about the previous night's incident and made the trip all the way from the market. "[serious] ...Took out Krone Imperial Guard scouts all by himself, they say. First time in eleven years since coming to the slums I've heard a story like that." The hoarse voice of the old-timer Galda could be heard. The surrounding residents buzzed with excitement. "...That unfriendly swordsman? Can't believe it." "But I saw that armor. It was the real thing. To take that on alone..." Kurtz narrowed his remaining eye. "[serious] ...This is gonna spread all through the market. Might even become hope for us." Some of the orphans turned to look back at Shin up in the bell tower. Their gazes were clearly different from the way they'd always looked at him before—as just some listless, unfriendly man. Expectation, respect, and something like clinging hope—heated gazes mixed with all those emotions. As Shin met those gazes, he felt a stirring deep in his chest. *—Hope, huh.* Was that what he'd wanted? But at the same time, a colder reality gnawed at his heart. The defeat of those scouts would definitely be reported to the captain of the Krone Imperial Guard. When the main Ash Hunt came, the targets would narrow to him—the one who'd wounded their scouts—and his comrades. That prediction tormented Shin more deeply than the wound in his gut. *—Am I... going to fail to protect them again?* --- The same time. Above ground, in the Imperial Capital. Th