Three days.
Three endless, agonizing days.
Aya sat beneath the towering oak tree just beyond the village's edge, her small frame dwarfed by its massive trunk. Every morning, she came here, waiting, watching, her eyes never leaving the winding road that stretched toward the horizon. She barely moved, barely blinked. The faint breeze whispered through her hair, rustling the torn scrap of Nine's cloak she still clutched in her lap.
Colla stood nearby, arms crossed, watching her. The girl's unwavering stillness unsettled her. It was unnatural for someone so young to sit in such quiet torment, frozen between hope and despair.
With a sigh, Colla finally gave in and walked over, dropping onto the grass beside her.
"You really care about him, huh?" Her voice was gentle, testing the waters.
Aya didn't move. "He'll come back."
The certainty in her voice made Colla hesitate. It wasn't a plea. It wasn't blind hope. It was a belief so absolute that it felt like an unbreakable vow.
Colla sighed. "You're sure? He's not exactly the type to follow rules. And these battles… they change people, Aya."
Aya's fingers clenched the fabric of her cloak. "I believe in him."
Colla studied her carefully. "Sometimes, belief isn't enough. What if he comes back… different? Or worse, what if he doesn't come back at all?"
Aya turned her gaze on her then, sharp and unwavering. It was a look that sent a chill through Colla, not because it was hostile, but because it was unshakable.
"You think I didn't know that? He'll come back," Aya repeated, like a prayer she refused to abandon.
Colla raised her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I get it. You're loyal to him." She leaned back against the tree, tilting her head up toward the branches. "But if I were you, I'd think about what this is doing to you. You're so young, Aya. If it's hurting you this much, maybe—"
"Have you ever loved someone, Colla?" Aya interrupted, her voice soft but edged with steel.
Colla blinked, caught off guard.
She hesitated, then exhaled slowly. "Not like that. But I had a sister. She was my everything. Stronger than I'll ever be. She entered the battle once, too. I thought she'd survive. I believed she would. But she didn't."
Silence stretched between them.
Aya turned her gaze back to the road. "Then you should understand. Letting go isn't a choice. It's a wound that never really heals."
Colla swallowed, something heavy pressing against her chest. "...Maybe so," she admitted quietly. "But sometimes, holding on can be just as painful."
Aya said nothing.
Instead, she lay back on the grass, staring up at the sky.
Colla didn't know what else to say. She wasn't good at comforting people. "You can come with me---"
A shadow fell across them.
"You're awfully chatty for someone I hired to keep an eye on her."
Colla's entire body tensed. The voice was deep, calm, and terrifyingly familiar. Slowly, she turned her head.
Nine stood before them.
He was changed.
His clothes were tattered, stained with dried blood. His body, lean to begin with, looked even thinner, his muscles carved tight beneath his torn cloak. A few new scars marred his skin, but it was his eyes that unsettled her the most.
They were darker than before, sharp and unreadable. He had always been dangerous, but now… now there was something wrong behind that grin.
Yet somehow, he was smiling.
"Aya," he murmured.
Aya shot to her feet, tears welling in her eyes. "Nine!"
He opened his arms. "I'm back."
She ran to him without hesitation, throwing herself against him. He caught her easily, lifting her up as if she weighed nothing. For a moment, he spun her, laughing softly as she buried her face in his shoulder. Her small fingers clung to him, her breath shuddering with relief.
Colla watched, feeling an unexpected ache in her chest.
To Aya, he was home. Safety. The only thing in this world that mattered.
But Colla saw more than Aya did.
She saw the madness flickering beneath Nine's warmth. The way his grin lingered too long, the way his fingers flexed as if resisting the urge to grip something—someone—too tightly.
This was not just a man returning to someone he cared for.
This was a man who was hungry.
When Nine finally set Aya down, he turned to Colla.
She straightened instinctively, every muscle in her body on edge.
"I told you to keep her safe," he said, his voice smooth, but lined with something colder. "Not fill her head with ideas."
Colla opened her mouth to protest but froze under his gaze.
Without another word, Nine tossed a small pouch of coins at her feet. "Your pay."
Colla hesitated, then bent down and picked it up. The weight of the gold felt heavier than it should have. "Thanks," she muttered.
Nine's attention was already back on Aya. His hand reached out, brushing against her cheek. "You've gotten thinner," he murmured.
Aya leaned into his touch. "I haven't been eating much."
Nine crouched, taking her foot and slipping her shoes on with practiced ease. "Then let's fix that. What do you want to eat?"
"Pork ribs," she said instantly.
Nine chuckled, ruffling her hair. "Of course, you want meat."
"Is that a problem?" Aya frowned.
"No, no," Nine said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. "You can have all the meat you want, my little carnivore."
Colla followed them back toward the tavern, her steps heavy.
She watched the way Nine doted on Aya, the way she clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping her afloat.
To Aya, he was everything.
But to Colla, he was a storm waiting to happen.
After dinner, Nine tucked Aya into bed. She curled against him, fingers fisting his robes. His hand stroked through her hair in slow, comforting motions.
Colla hesitated in the doorway.
"Can I ask something?" she said finally. "If you don't want to answer, just say so."
Nine glanced up at her, his expression unreadable. "Ask."
"Aya's afraid," Colla said carefully. "Afraid you'll change."
Nine's lips curled into a grin. "I haven't changed."
Colla's stomach twisted. "You mean she hasn't seen you change, don't you?"
Nine tilted his head, grin widening into something unsettling. "She won't leave me. She can't."
Colla's throat went dry. "And if she can?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nine's dark eyes burned into hers.
"If she can," he echoed, his tone soft.
The weight of those three words sent a cold shiver down her spine.
As Nine wrapped himself around Aya like a protective shield, Colla stood frozen.
Aya trusted him completely.
But Colla knew better.
Aya wasn't just in love.
She was trapped.
And Colla had no idea if she had the strength to set her free.