Chapter 1
Starting the Shadowbroker Tutorial!
It’s been three years since the establishment of the Shadow Garden—give or take. Alpha and I turned thirteen years old, and my older sister Claire, fifteen.
There isn’t anything special about turning thirteen, but fifteen is another story. That’s when aristocrats begin their three-year education at a school in the royal capital. As the bearer of the hopes and dreams of the Kagenou household, Claire had a crazy farewell party thrown for her, which was organized by our mother. Like, wow, you can’t get more clichéd than that.
And that’s fine. Well, it was fine until she vanished the day of her departure. Read: All hell broke loose in the Kagenou household.
“The room was like this when I came in,” explains my dad in a low, suave voice. His face isn’t bad, either. “No signs of a struggle. But it looks like the window has been pried open. The culprit must have been skilled to do this without me and Claire noticing.”
He touches the windowsill and stares wistfully at the sky. A glass of whiskey would complete the scene.
Now, if only he had hair…
“And?” replies a chilly voice. “Are you saying we’re out of luck since the kidnapper was skilled?”
That was my mom.
“Th-that’s not what I’m saying. I was just stating a fact…,” answers my dad as cold sweat drips down his cheeks.
There’s a pause.
“Shut it, baldyyyyyy!!”
“Eep! I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry!!”
By the way, it’s like I’m invisible. They don’t expect much from me, and I don’t cause any trouble. I’m trying to keep this up to lie low in the background.
It’s really too bad that my sister disappeared, since she was cool and all. But they nabbed her in the middle of the night when I was out training in the abandoned town, which meant I couldn’t do anything to stop it. After watching with a concerned expression while my parents bicker, I sneak into my room and roll into bed.
“You can come out now.”
“Okay,” replies a voice accompanied by the sound of the curtains swishing gently.
A girl in a black slime bodysuit steps out from behind them.
“Oh, it’s you. Beta.”
“Yes,” says a girl, an elf like Alpha.
But while Alpha’s hair is blond, Beta’s is silver, framing her blue feline eyes and the mole right under one of them. She’s the third member of the Shadow Garden, after me and Alpha. I know I told Alpha to do things in moderation, but I swear, she keeps taking people in like they’re stray cats or something.
“Where’s Alpha?”
“She’s searching for signs of Miss Claire.”
“Dang, she’s fast. Is my sister alive?”
“Most likely.”
“Can we rescue her?”
“It’s possible…but it requires your assistance, Master Shadow.”
Oh, I have them call me Shadow. It’s fitting for the leader of the Shadow Garden, right?
“Did Alpha say that?”
“Yes. She said we must take every precaution in a hostage situation.”
“Huh.”
If I’m being honest, Alpha is plenty powerful on her own. If she’s asking for backup, we must be dealing with a big shot.
“It makes my blood boil…,” I say, compressing the magic in my hand down further. In a flash, I release it, causing the air to quiver around us.
There’s no particular reason for that. I just love to put on a good show.
Plus, it startles Beta, who even murmurs, “Incredible.” Nice.
As of late, I haven’t run out of training partners with Alpha, Beta, and Delta around, but I do like switching things up every once in a while. And I’m obsessed with playing the part of a mastermind, which makes this a perfect opportunity.
“It’s been a while since I’ve showed my true strength…,” I mumble.
At this point, I’m used to giving off a mysterious vibe. And with Alpha and Beta creating an optimal environment for pretend play, I’ve been very hyped up lately.
“As we’d expected, the perpetrator is a member of the Cult of Diablos—presumably one of their highest-ranking officers.”
“A high rank, huh…? But what do they want with my sister?”
“They must suspect that she’s one of the heroes’ descendants.”
“Well, those bastards guessed right…”
And that’s how she thickens the plot.
On top of that, she takes out a pile of documents and starts saying all kinds of cryptic things.
Like “Your story was true after all…”
And “The Children of Diablos from one thousand years ago have…”
And “This monument may be a sign of the Cult…,” but I don’t know for sure, ’cause I can’t read ancient texts. I have a feeling that Alpha can’t even understand them.
Y’know, I bet the two of them scrounged up some paperwork that looked appropriately suspicious to feel as if we’re getting closer to the truth. Yeah, that sounds about right.
“Take a look at this report. According to our most recent investigation, Miss Claire seems to have been brought to this hideout…”
Beta begins laying out a huge heap of files. It’s complete gibberish to me. The majority is written in an ancient alphabet, and the others are a series of nonsensical numbers and symbols. Dang, they really have a knack for creating fake reports. In this regard, they’re way better than me.
I ignore her explanation and chuck a small knife at the map on my wall. I aim for wherever feels right or something.
Zing. It sinks into the map.
“There.”
“There? What are you…?”
“That’s where my sister is.”
“But there’s nothing… Wait. No way…!” She balks, hastily rummaging through her reports as if she’s realized something.
Erm, ah, it’s really just a random throw. But Beta is a great actress.
Lemme take a guess. You’re gonna say the secret hideout is located right at the tip of the knife, right?
“After cross-referencing my reports, it appears the hideout is at that location.”
See? What did I say?
“To think you instantly interpreted these documents and uncovered hidden details… You never cease to amaze me.”
“Beta, you gotta train more.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Bravo! I know it’s all an act, but whew! It pulls on my heartstrings. Oh, Beta! You’ve got me on the edge of my seat.
“I’ll report to Alpha right away. Will we attempt our rescue tonight?”
“Yeah.”
Beta bows to me and leaves the room with eyes all sparkly. Like, I can almost feel that you totally respect me.
Cheers to her Academy Award–winning performance!
A man walks down a dimly lit underground tunnel. Appearing to be in his late thirties, he has a piercing gaze and a well-built body, and all his gray hair is slicked back.
He stops at the end of the tunnel, where there’s one door flanked by two soldiers.
“The daughter of Baron Kagenou,” he orders.
“In here, sir,” one soldier pipes up, bowing to Grease and unlocking the door. “We’ve got her restrained, but she’s extremely hostile. Please proceed with caution.”
“Hmph. Who do you think I am?”
“M-my apologies, sir!”
Grease pushes through the door and enters the stone dungeon, where a girl is shackled to the wall with magic chains.
“You must be Claire Kagenou.”
When she’s addressed by her name, the girl looks up at Grease in response.
She’s stunning, wrapped in the dainty negligee she wore to bed. It lightly veils her voluptuous breasts and shapely thighs, and her silken black hair is cut straight across her back.
Claire glares defiantly at him. “I’ve seen you around the capital. You’re Viscount Grease, aren’t you?”
“Oh, well, I used to be a royal guard…or you saw me at the Bushin Festival.”
“Right, the tournament. Princess Iris really tore you a new one.” Claire smirks.
“Hmph. We’re bound by tournament rules, which makes that an exception. I would never lose to her in a real battle.”
“You would lose then, too, Viscount Grease…you first-round flunker.”
“Shut it. A brat will never know the struggles of getting to the finals.” Grease scowls at Claire.
“I’ll make it in a year.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you don’t have a year left.”
The chains that bind her clang loudly as she closes the distance between them, snapping her teeth a hairbreadth away from the nape of Grease’s neck.
Chomp.
If Grease hadn’t slightly turned his head, she would have severed his carotid artery.
“Which of us won’t see another year? Want to test it out?”
“You won’t be testing anything out, Claire Kagenou.”
Claire is howling with laughter when he punches her in the jaw, slamming her against the stone wall. But her glare remains unchanged and locked on Grease the entire time.
His next punch doesn’t land.
“Jumping backward now, eh?”
Claire smiles fearlessly. “Oh, I assumed you were trying to hit a fly.”
“Hmph. I guess you’re not letting your strong magical powers overwhelm you.”
“I learned that it’s all about how you use magic, not how much.”
“Your father taught you well.”
“Baldy didn’t teach me a thing. I’m talking about my brother.”
“Your brother…?”
“He’s a cheeky one. I win every time we battle, but I’m the one learning from his techniques, not the other way around. Which is why I make life hard for him.” A playful grin splays across her face.
“My condolences to your brother. I guess this makes me the hero who saves him from his wicked sister. Enough chitchat…” Grease pauses, observing her intently.
“Claire Kagenou, has your physical condition…felt off recently? As in, has it gotten harder to use and handle magic? Have you experienced any pain when you use it? Is your body starting to turn dark with rot? …Do you have any of these symptoms?”
“Did you abduct me to play doctor?” The corners of Claire’s glossy lips lift to a smile.
“You know, I used to have a daughter. I don’t want to knock you around more than I already have. Answering honestly would benefit us both.”
“Is that a threat? When I feel threatened, I tend to get hostile…even when I shouldn’t.”
“Are you saying you won’t tell me the truth?”
“We’ll see.”
Grease and Claire glare at each other for a while.
She’s the one to break the silence. “Fine. I’ll answer your dumb question, since it’s no big deal. What was it? About my condition and magic, right? Well, everything’s fine now. If I wasn’t chained up, I’d be doing pretty darn good.”
“What do you mean by ‘now’?”
“Well, I first noticed the symptoms a year ago.”
“What? Are you saying it got cured—on its own?” Grease has never heard of a case where it healed on its own.
“Yeah, I didn’t do anything to… Oh, right. What was it? A ‘stretch’? I don’t know what that means, but my little bro asked me to stretch with him, and I felt better after that.”
“Stretch? I’ve never heard of that before…but if you had symptoms, that means I wasn’t mistaken in thinking you’re compatible.”
“Compatible…? What does that mean?”
“Nothing that should concern you. Either way, you’re going to break soon enough. Oh, and I’ll make sure to look into your brother…”
Before he can finish his sentence, he suffers a blow to the nose.
“Wha—?!” he barks, stumbling back to the door and glowering at Claire. He holds his bloody nose. “Claire Kagenou, you wretch…!”
All four limbs should have been bound, but she somehow managed to free her right arm, where blood trickles down her wrist.
“You scraped off your own flesh and dislocated your finger…?!”
These are no ordinary chains. They’re sealed with magic. In other words, she unleashed the full extent of her physical strength to slice the flesh off her hand, break her own bones, and slide out of the chains to punch Grease. This rattles him to his core.
“If you do anything to my brother, I’ll never forgive you! I’ll kill you, your loved ones, your family, your friends… Ngh…?!”
Grease clobbers Claire in the gut with all his might. There’s no way she can defend herself from his spells, especially when she’s strapped down by chains.
“You bitch…!” spits Grease as she crumples to the ground.
On the floor, there’s a pool of dark-red blood fed by a trickle from her right hand.
“Well, then. I’ll know when I’ve used this…,” he murmurs, reaching out to touch her blood when a winded soldier flings the door open.
“Viscount Grease, we’re in trouble! Intruders!”
“Intruders?! Who the hell are they?”
“We don’t know! There are only a few of them, but we don’t stand a chance without you!”
“Ugh, I’ll take care of it! The rest of you, stay on guard!” Grease clicks his tongue in irritation before turning on his heel and making his way from the cell.
By the time Grease arrives on the scene, the area is already smeared with blood.
The soldiers who protect the major facility aren’t weak by any means, and some even rival the royal guard.
“Why? This can’t be…!”
Illuminated by a single light streaming in from the outside, countless dead bodies litter the ground of the underground hall in the facility.
Each bears a single slash—sliced by an unimaginably destructive force.
“Son of a bitch…!”
Grease glares at a group of figures dressed in black bodysuits. From their curves, he can guess they’re petite girls—seven in total. Under the dim light of the moon, they’re stealthy enough that it’s easy to lose sight of them without a concerted effort. These women are using a rare technique to control their magical presence, and Grease recognizes this group might just rival him in strength.
There’s one who’s drenched in blood, eyeing him under the moonlight.
“Nnr…!”
In this moment, instinct overtakes Grease—not for any explicit reason, but he can sense danger.
Blood drips down her bodysuit and onto the floor, and she lets her katana drag behind her apathetically, creating a trail of gore.
“Who the hell are you? What’s your purpose?” he asks, attempting to suppress his unease.
But he’s faced with seven rivals as powerful as him. To fight would be asinine. Grease curses his bad luck as he searches for a way out.
The blood-splattered girl isn’t listening to him. She laughs, snickering from behind her bloodied mask.
She’s going to hunt me down…! Grease thinks, just as he hears another voice.
“Back off, Delta.”
The girl halts in place before retreating without resistance. Grease lets out a huge sigh of relief.
Another girl walks forward to take her place.
“We are the Shadow Garden.”
If they were anywhere else, her angelic voice would have entranced him.
“I’m Alpha.”
He realizes she’s revealed her face at some point, and her pale skin gleams under the moonlight. She steps forward.
“Nn…!”
He sees she’s an elf with golden hair and beauty that leaves him gasping for breath.
She takes another step.
“Our purpose…is to eliminate the Cult of Diablos.”
He doesn’t take notice of her black sword until it slices through the air and parts the night sky. Or at least, it seems to create that illusion, and Grease is overcome with intimidation by the force of her swing and the wind that follows it.
How did she acquire such power at this age? He trembles with jealousy and fear—but more than anything, he’s petrified by her declaration.
“How…how do you know our group?”
The Cult of Diablos. Grease is one of the few people in the facility who knows the name of this organization.
“We know everything. We know all about Diablos the demon, his curse, and the heroes’ descendants. And…the truth about the possessed.”
“H-how did you…?”
Grease was only recently informed of this top secret information, which couldn’t— No, shouldn’t have been leaked.
“You’re not the only ones after the Curse of Diablos.”
“Ksh…!”
He knows he can’t forgive them for getting access to classified information. But would slaying them prevent it from spreading?
No, no good.
Which means he needs to live—to survive to inform headquarters about the girls, which is why Grease moves forward.
“Aaaaaaaaagh!!” he shouts, unsheathing his sword and swiping at Alpha.
“How reckless,” she notes, dodging and countering it with ease.
Her blade grazes his cheek, where blood pours from the fresh wound.
And yet, that doesn’t stop him. He continues to pursue victory, even as none of his attacks land. Grease misses by a hairbreadth each time.
On the other side, Alpha is focused on eliminating unnecessary movements and calculating the trajectory of his sword to sidestep oncoming assaults.
And all the while, Grease’s arms are slashed, legs cut, shoulders sliced.
But none of his wounds are fatal.
Grease sneers when he realizes she won’t kill him until she gets intel out of him, and a new path to victory comes into view. After he slices through nothing again and again, he’s finally slashed in the chest, causing him to retreat.
“Let’s not waste any more time,” says Alpha.
Grease doesn’t answer, kneeling and clutching his wounded chest. A smile then spreads across his face…and he swallows something.
“What…are you doing?!”
His body doubles in size—his complexion darkens, his muscles bulge, his eyes glow red. And most importantly, his magic capacity increases…dramatically.
“Unnh…!”
Grease’s steel sword zings through the air without warning, which Alpha manages to block instantly. But she grimaces on impact, using the momentum to leap back and create distance between them.
“Interesting trick,” she notes, shaking her arm as pins and needles shoot through it. She cocks her head to the side. “Based on the wave frequency, I’m guessing it’s a magical overload…that’s been forcibly induced…”
“Lady Alpha, is everything all right?” asks a voice from behind, surprised to see Alpha back down during a fight for the first time.
“It’s fine, Beta. Just a messy situation… Hmm?”
When Alpha turns her gaze back to Grease, there’s no one in sight. Well, more accurately, there’s a rectangular hole in his place, leading to a lower level of the facility—a trapdoor.
“…He got away.”
“Yeah…let’s go after him,” Beta responds, ready to leap in behind him.
Alpha stops her in the nick of time. “That won’t be necessary. He’ll take care of it.”
“He…? Now that I think about it, Master Shadow said he’d go ahead of us… No way.”
“Yeah. I have to admit I was worried he’d get lost when he sprinted down a different route.” Alpha giggles.
“He knew this would happen… He’s done it again.”
Their eyes glow with respect as they peer down the hole together.
“I’m lost,” I mumble to myself in an empty underground facility.
It was all fine and well when we infiltrated the hideout, but I got sick of fighting off small fry. I thought I’d go ahead and kill their boss, which brings us…here. Bummer. I mean, I even practiced what I’d say when I faced their leader and everything.
Anyway, this place is huge. I get the vibe of a group of bandits living in an abandoned military facility.
“Hmm?”
I sense someone running toward me from the other side of the tunnel. It takes a few beats before the figure notices me, too, leaving a wide gap between us.
I thought he was just a brat who knew nothing, but I was wrong.
His enemy had known everything and had still chosen to fight.
Powerless, he thinks of himself. He’s been powerless for his entire life. He’s tried to succeed but returned empty-handed, while this whelp in black…
“Mi…llia…” Grease groans, reaching for a dagger encrusted with a blue jewel and closing his eyes.
As consciousness slips away from him, he sees the smiling face of his beloved daughter who passed long ago.
Anyway, that’s how we ended our slaughter of some bandits—I mean, our little rescue mission.
I found my sister totally unconscious, so I undid her chains and left her there, which contributed to her crankiness when she returned home the next day. But she’s a real tough cookie—tough enough that the wound on her hand almost healed overnight.
After a hectic week or so of hospital treatments and follow-up investigations, my sister finally made her way to the capital—though she pestered me more than usual during that time for some annoying reason.
The girls in the Shadow Garden were busy, conducting their own research, taking care of the remaining bandits, and other stuff. Oh, right, we’re not calling them bandits. Whatever. The Cult. I mean, they’re all thieves in the end.
But that geezer with red eyes was outstanding. I mean, he inspired me to come up with “then we dive deeper,” which sounds like something a shadowbroker would say. I owe him my thanks. I would’ve loved to have him play a supporting role to my part as an eminence in shadow.
This was a must-see performance. My ability to improvise and portray a master puppeteer was off the rockers. It’s a real shame there wasn’t a live audience. But I only have to wait two more years—which is when I go to the capital. You know the one. It’s a world-famous metropolis and the only city in this country that houses one million people.
I bet protagonists are a dime a dozen, and there might be Final Bosses, too.
There’s bound to be conspiracies, rebellions, and incidents—none of which would ever happen in the boonies. And that’s when the mastermind bursts onto the scene… Huh. Now that I think about it, I guess I’m just a toad who feels cocky about beating some bandits. At this moment in time, my prologue hasn’t even been written.
And then one day, Alpha and the other girls gather before me, just as I’m yearning to get stronger for school, which is two years down the line. They want to share their reports on the Cult and lab findings on the curse and all that jazz.
It’s unusual to have all seven of them in a room at once, especially since it seems they’ve got their hands full as of late.
Geez, go easy on the research and investigations. I mean, it’s all pointless anyway, I think as I listen to their reports.
Here’s a simple summary of their findings.
Their first claim is that the heroes who slayed Diablos the demon were all women, which is why they’re the ones who suffer exclusively from the curse.
How creative. But I hate to break it to you that all the heroes were men in the most common theory. Oh, wait, I bet they came up with that since the Shadow Garden is comprised of seven women apart from me.
Their next report was on how the curse was most common among elves, followed by hybrid beasts and then humans. According to their research, it has to do with the life spans of the respective species. With humans living short lives with weak traces of the heroic bloodline, they’re least susceptible to the curse. On the other hand, elves have long life expectancies with potent concentrations of blood, which makes them the most prone to fall victim to the curse. The therianthropes, or hybrid beasts, are in the middle.
Now that I think about it, I’m the only human in the Shadow Garden, and I’ve never been possessed. Besides me, we have two therianthropes and a posse of five elves—and all seven have been possessed. You know, they did a stellar job coming up with this backstory.
And then they proceed to report on a bunch of other things, which I pretend to absorb.
They move on to their reports about the Cult, which is supposedly a massive organization that operates on a global scale. Fascinating.
In terms of being the possessed or cursed or whatever, they tell me the Cult calls them “compatibles,” and their members are supposedly going the extra mile to locate, acquire, and wipe them from existence or some crap.
Anyway, they suggest that the Shadow Garden scatter across the world to prevent this from spreading. Their plan would leave me with one rotating subordinate, the rest of them scattering to every corner of the world to protect the possessed, investigate the Cult, and sabotage their activities.
When they suggest this new plan, it hits me all of a sudden: They must have realized that the Cult doesn’t exist.
They’re through with this stupid charade and demanding their freedom. What else could scattering across the world mean? I’m guessing they feel indebted to me for curing them, which is why they’re going to stick with me on a rotating basis. I just have to deal with it. I know that’s what they’re trying to tell me.
I’m bummed out. In my past life, the kids idolized the heroes as much as I adored masterminds—until we grew up, and they didn’t even notice that they’d forgotten all about their precious heroes. I was left alone. I guess the girls have grown up, too.
I’m feeling all soppy but agree to send them on their way. I never planned on having seven members to begin with. If they leave me with one subordinate, that’s enough for me. I see them off, and we reluctantly exchange good-byes.
I make a vow to myself: I’ll never stop trying to become a mastermind, even if that means I have to face this world alone.
She no longer fears killing others.
Beta whips her inky katana, splattering congealed blood off her blade and onto the ashen ground in a clean line. She stands cloaked in the darkness of night and surrounded by a group of soldiers lying facedown.
“End him,” orders Beta.
The girls in black bodysuits pierce their blades into the guard. One of their hands in particular shakes violently, but it doesn’t stop the girl from thrusting her sword into his pressure point.
“Guh… Gaaaah!” shrieks the soldier with his final breath, causing her blade to freeze in place.
It’s the type of cry that’ll haunt her in her sleep until she becomes accustomed to killing.
Beta envelops the girl’s hands on the helm with her own before giving the blade a sharp twist. Together, they feel the soldier’s life leaving his body.
“Ah, ahhh…!” gasps a voice.
This time, the cries are the girl’s.
Beta wraps her arm around her subordinate’s trembling shoulders and issues her next instructions. “Secure the target.”
The group makes its way to the carriage, boarding the loading deck. Following the shrill sounds of a chain snapping, the girls emerge from the wagon with a dark mound of rotting flesh.
It’s still breathing.
“Return to Lady Alpha—fast.”
They haul the mound, carrying it tenderly, and start to pick up speed, followed by the member of their order previously nestled in Beta’s bosom.
Beta squints slightly, watching them go.
She’s raising them well.
These girls used to know nothing about combat. They’d never held a sword, and it goes without saying that they’d never murdered anyone before meeting her.
Beta is reminded of her own past, and old memories begin to resurface.
She still remembers how it felt when she killed for the first time—her sword piercing their heart, their hand grabbing hers. Beta couldn’t believe the strength of their grip even as they suffered a fatal wound.
“There’s a short period of time when people can move after they’ve been stabbed through the heart. Don’t let your guard down. Hey, Beta, are you listening?”
Beta was listening to Alpha’s calm voice but couldn’t understand what she meant for the life of her.
She was paralyzed with fear—incapable of moving or thinking.
“You’re impossible.”
The head of her enemy soared through the air.
Alpha had beheaded him.
The corpse dropped to the floor, spurting blood that splatted Beta, and large teardrops fell from her eyes.
“Find a reason to fight.”
Those words sounded so cold.
Beta was a child who had trouble doing things on her own.
After joining the Shadow Garden, she always followed Alpha around. After all, they were old acquaintances, and she knew she would go down the right path if she stuck by Alpha’s side.
But Beta couldn’t find a reason to fight by following Alpha’s footsteps—or understand the importance of finding said motivation. As a result, she couldn’t get used to the idea of murder, vomiting violently after killing someone on a mission and shaking in fear every night as she tried to fall asleep. It wasn’t unusual for her to wake up screaming in the middle of the night.
On one particular evening, Shadow approached the tormented girl.
“Do you seek wisdom…?”
“Y-yes?” Beta answered all jittery as she cocked her head to the side.
In her eyes, he was enigmatic and extremely powerful.
“If you seek wisdom…I shall give it to you.”
He might mean the knowledge of easing my emotional turmoil from murdering others, she thought.
With great expectations, Beta nodded. “I—I want wisdom.” Her voice trembled.
“Then I shall give it to you…”
Shadow began telling a story. “Once upon a time, in a faraway place, there was an old man and an old woman…”
It was an ordinary fairy tale—no smidgen of wisdom or anything else.
What the heck?
She wasn’t sure how to respond—not that she was brave enough to oppose the one revered by Alpha—and shut her trap to listen to his story. It was more interesting than she’d initially imagined. In fact, she realized she’d been so absorbed in the tale that she’d forgotten the time.
That evening, Beta had a deep, peaceful night’s rest.
And ever since then, Shadow recited a bedside story to Beta before she went to sleep.
Beta had always been a bookworm, but she’d never heard any of his tales before. They were gripping and original to her ears. Time flew by as she listened to them, and she’d be fast asleep in no time—and stopped jolting awake in the middle of the night. Her favorites were “Cinderella” and “Snow White.”
This may have been around the time Beta began chasing Shadow with her eyes.
She noticed she was spending more and more time around him. At first, she observed him with a timid gaze. But after a year had passed, Beta was attached to him at the hip.
Shadow was indispensable to the Shadow Garden—absolute strength, knowledge, and wisdom. His unconditionality comforted Beta. Soon enough, she found he’d become a necessity to her, too.
She realized her doubts had disappeared somewhere along the way.
Without Shadow, Beta would have been killed for being possessed.
She’d been disowned by her family, chased out of her home country, and this series of tragedies made Beta slow in processing her new situation. She’d lost too much to notice her gains.
With her skepticism gone, Beta was able to realize something: Shadow had given her a new life and strength.
She could feel this truth swelling in her heart.
Beta had found a reason to fight.
She began keeping a journal to write about him every day—for her to keep in touch with her memories and feelings, for her to never doubt anything again.
Beta had found a reason to live.
At first, she’d jotted down words and adjectives, but she noticed it had turned into sentences, and that flourished into a story somewhere along the way.
The faint sound of movement brings Beta back to reality. She unsheathes her sword before approaching the loading deck and peers under the wagon.
“Eek!”
She locks eyes with a young soldier about her age.
He panics and drags himself out of the confines, trying desperately to escape.
He didn’t know a thing when he chose to guard the carriage hauling the possessed—and he will know nothing in death.
“S-stop…!”
Beta swings her sword down without hesitation, and blood squirts out of his neck as he sprints for his life.
He staggers a few more steps before collapsing to the ground. Swiping the blood spatter off her cheek, Beta gazes at the night sky, where a full moon peeks out from between the clouds. Under the moonlight, she smiles innocently—as if she’s a lovely flower fraught with danger in the night.
Beta has no doubts.
If it would make him happy, she would even walk down the path of evil.
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