Chapter 10: Twenty-One Years
The energy around Travis surged again, dark and unstable.
His crimson robes twisted violently before blackening, the illusion of beauty collapsing as quickly as it had formed. His hair fell loose, his eyes hollowed into a lightless void, and dark mist coiled along his skin.
The figure did not hesitate.
His blade cut cleanly through the air.
When steel met corruption, the impact sent a visible tremor through the chamber. The clash ended almost as soon as it began.
Less than three minutes later, it was over.
He stood before me, the blade lowered but perfectly steady.
The oppressive presence receded. Travis dropped to his knees on the fractured floor. Thin golden fissures spread across his body, each one a precise mark left by the strike.
Only then did I realize I had been holding my breath.
"Th-that blade..." Travis trembled as he lifted his head. For the first time, real fear surfaced in his eyes.
"What... what kind of weapon is that...?"
The figure gave no answer.
He raised the blade and leveled its tip between Travis's brows.
"No—please!" His voice cracked.
"I haven't seen Aya yet! I waited a thousand years! Just once—just let me see her—!"
The figure spoke.
A man's voice—cold and precise, sharp as the edge in his hand.
"You are not worthy to see Aya."
Light burst from the blade.
Golden radiance unfurled like chains, binding Travis's spirit layer by layer.
"Wait—!" I shouted.
Too late.
His scream tore through the chamber as his form fractured, breaking apart into countless motes of light that scattered and drifted downward.
Moments later, nothing remained.
---
Only then did the figure turn toward me.
I froze.
He looked no older than his early thirties. His features were refined—almost scholarly. What caught my attention, however, was the line of his ears. The tips were slightly long, just visible through his dark hair.
If I hadn't seen what he had done moments earlier, I would never have believed a man who looked so composed could erase Travis so completely.
He regarded me coolly.
"What? Do you pity him?"
I watched the fading particles of light.
"Not pity... Only that after waiting a thousand years, he couldn't even have a final glimpse. It feels somewhat—"
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"Tragic?"
He gave a short, scornful laugh.
"You believe that was love?"
Contempt flickered in his eyes.
"Aya was the daughter of a medical family. No emperor. No courtly romance. Her father commissioned a portrait. Travis became obsessed."
He spoke without emphasis, as if repeating a story whose ending had been settled long ago.
"When his proposal was rejected, he poisoned her. Then he used the Skinbound Resurrection—binding her remaining spirit to the painting while forcing his own living soul into her body."
He paused.
"What he called love was closer to possession."
I frowned.
"How... how do you know this?"
"Aya told me."
"Aya?" My voice rose despite myself. "But the Triple Thunder fell. The painting was destroyed. How could she still—"
"Look."
I followed his gaze.
Where Travis had scattered, a figure in red lay on the floor, slowly stirring.
The presence was unmistakable. Aya.
"How is that possible?"
"The ritual succeeded," the long-eared man said evenly. "But when the thunder struck, Aya chose to abandon the body. She refused to share it with him."
His eyes flicked briefly to the place where Travis had vanished.
"What you saw before was only him. With the corruption gone, Aya's spirit returned to what remained."
By then, Aya had risen to her feet.
Her bearing was calm and dignified.
She gave us a small nod.
"My thanks, sir."
Though her face remained veiled, the calm steadiness in her voice carried its own quiet authority.
The long-eared man lifted one hand.
"You are free," he said. "I'll grant you a spirit-bound robe—something that will allow you to walk among the living."
A talisman shimmered in his palm, then drifted outward, settling lightly over Aya's shoulders. Her robes caught the glow, faintly pulsing as if touched by life.
Aya glanced down at the light, then met his eyes.
"I don't know how to repay this."
"You are a healer," the long-eared man said. "In this age, saving lives is enough."
Aya gave a quiet nod. "I will."
The talisman's glow slowly faded.
I inclined my head slightly.
"Sir," I said, "I'm deeply grateful for your intervention. May I ask—"
Before I could finish, the long-eared man stepped slightly aside, his gaze cool and deliberate.
"There are things I must speak with you about. Alone."
Jasper understood at once and motioned the others back. Selene hesitated, glancing over her shoulder—the memory of that blade still lingering in her eyes—before finally turning away.
The long-eared man added, almost gently,
"Do not worry. I hunt demons. I do not harm people."
Their footsteps faded down the corridor.
Then he spoke.
"Rhan," he said quietly. "I am Vael. Do you truly not remember me?"
The question struck harder than any accusation.
Remember?
I had grown up in the countryside, raised by my grandfather. What little I knew of the unseen came from a handful of taboos and rough techniques he had taught me. As far as I knew, my life had been simple—unremarkable.
At least, that was what I had always believed.
I let out a slow breath.
"You must have mistaken me for someone else."
"That is unlikely."
He held my gaze without wavering.
"Faces change. Names change. Even voices can be hidden."
He paused briefly.
"But the soul... is far harder to disguise."
For a moment neither of us spoke.
"You hear things others cannot," he said at last. "Voices beyond the boundary."
I did not answer.
He continued quietly.
"So do I."
Silence settled again between us.
"I have been searching for that resonance for twenty-one years."
He held my gaze.
"For you."
The number lingered in my mind.
Twenty-one—the exact span of my life.
My grandfather had once told me that I was born without breath or pulse—that he had used a forbidden method to call a wandering spirit into the empty body. At the time I had taken it as an old man's way of explaining a difficult birth.
Now the memory refused to stay quiet.
Vael seemed to notice the change in my expression.
"I did not come here to force answers from you," he said after a moment. "I only hope you can come back."
I met his gaze.
"I remember nothing."
There was no defensiveness in my voice—only fact.
Something in his expression softened, though only slightly.
"Eventually," he said, "you will remember everything."
He rose slowly to his feet.
"Come," his sharp presence easing. "Your companions are waiting. What was spoken tonight need not be shared."
We returned to the bar together.
Vael turned to Aya.
"What will you do now?"
Aya hesitated. Neon light from the street caught faintly in her eyes.
"This world... I do not yet know how to live in it."
Vael studied her for a moment.
"Then travel with me. If you wish, you can practice medicine again."
Aya looked surprised. After a moment, she nodded.
Jasper watched the direction they had gone, then glanced at me.
"They're like Bella, aren't they?" he said quietly. "Not exactly... human."
I followed his gaze for a moment.
"No," I said.
"They're not ghosts."
I paused.
"But they're not like us either."
Jasper didn't argue. The question still lingered in his expression.
Before he could say anything else, Selene's voice cut across the quiet bar.
"Rhan—Nyx is gone."
The words hung in the empty room.
Gone.
