Nine exhaled sharply, tilting his head in mild disbelief. "Ah, shit," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. His shoulders slumped as he took in the wreckage before him—the shattered windows, the door barely hanging on its hinges. He let out a dry chuckle. "Hasn't even been a week since I got her this house."
He took a step forward—
THUNK!
An arrow tore through the wooden door, missing his eye by a hair's breadth.
"We're under attack," Aya said, voice sharp, already moving to take cover.
"Obviously," Nine replied, scratching his cheek, his gaze flicking toward the source.
"That's not the point—" Aya snapped, only to be cut off.
"Colla, give her meat."
Aya's eye twitched. Without hesitation, she grabbed a cup from the table and hurled it at him. It shattered against the wall just inches from his head. Nine merely tilted his head, unfazed, as though dodging projectiles from her had become routine.
"Hmm… only four of them," he murmured, rolling his shoulders. He dragged a chair across the floor, setting it in place like a chess piece in a match only he could see.
Then, in a blur of motion, he launched it upward. The chair crashed into the ceiling, sending dust and splinters cascading down.
The split-second distraction was all he needed.
Nine bolted for the door.
His short sword flickered into his grasp, the blade an extension of his will. In a single, fluid motion, he hurled it. It found its mark, sinking deep into an enemy's chest. Before the others could react, he spun and flicked his wrist—three poisoned needles shot forward, embedding themselves into another man's throat. He barely gurgled before collapsing.
As Nine recalled his sword, another attacker intercepted it, deflecting the incoming strike. But before he could counter, his leg buckled.
A thin strand of hair—cowhide, laced with venom—had wrapped around his ankle.
SCHAK!
A dagger buried itself in his spine. Colla twisted the blade mercilessly before yanking it free, her movements silent and deadly.
The last remaining enemy staggered backward, his gaze darting between Nine and Colla. Realization dawned in his eyes—he was alone. Outmatched.
Yet, instead of fear, he sneered. "So you're the so-called 'Saint'?" His voice dripped with disdain. "I see nothing but a hypocrite."
Nine arched a brow, smirking. "Aren't we all?"
The man's gaze flicked to Aya. His lips curled in a sickening grin. "That your bitch? Pretty one," he leered, licking his lips.
Nine's smirk twitched. His fingers flexed.
"Ah, I wanted some rest," he sighed, stepping forward. "But I guess I'm famous now."
Before the man could react, Colla lunged. She slammed him to the ground, pinning him with ease. Nine crouched beside him, gripping his face with a mockingly gentle touch.
SLAP!
The first strike landed.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
Blood splattered as the slaps turned brutal, the sound sharp against the walls.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
By the time Nine stopped, the man's face was a swollen, unrecognizable mess.
"Fuc—"
"Nuh-uh-uh," Nine interrupted, gripping the man's jaw with bruising force. "I nearly forgot something important." He chuckled, voice rich with amusement.
The dagger flashed.
SHKKK—
A gargled scream filled the air as Nine sliced the man's tongue clean off. Blood pooled from his mouth, his body convulsing in agony.
Nine picked up the severed tongue and tilted his head. "Come on. Eat. It's an honor. I stopped feeding Aya a long time ago."
The man's wide, panicked eyes reflected nothing but pure horror.
Nine's laughter was soft at first. Then it grew. A rich, unhinged melody, intertwining with the muffled cries of his victim.
"Nine," Colla's voice cut through, calm and firm.
Nine's mirth faded instantly. He turned, following her gaze—Aya stood in the doorway, her face shadowed, fists clenched.
He barely caught the way her fingers trembled as she ripped her dress at the hem, making it easier to move.
She was leaving.
Tsk.
Nine plunged his dagger into the man's skull, silencing him for good.
With one swift motion, he leapt from the window, landing smoothly to block Aya's path.
"Aya," he called, his voice softer now.
She didn't stop.
"I'm tired of this," she said, shaking her head.
Nine hesitated. "Aya—"
"Enough!" She whirled on him, eyes flashing with frustration. "You've changed."
Nine frowned but forced himself to remain relaxed. "Okay, okay," he conceded, raising his hands. "I'll step away from the battle."
Aya stared at him, unimpressed. "I don't believe you."
Nine sighed, then, with deliberate slowness, unclasped his belt.
One by one, he dropped his weapons. Daggers. Poisons. A short sword. Two throwing needles. Another hidden blade. By the time he was done, the pile at his feet looked more like an armory than a mere collection of weapons.
He raised his hands in mock surrender, offering a boyish grin. "Better?"
"Stop that," Aya snapped.
His grin faded.
"You can't just say it, Nine," she said, her voice quieter now. "You have to prove it."
Nine studied her for a moment before exhaling. "Fine," he relented. "We'll leave. Now, if that's what you want."
"I want to bring Colla," she added.
A flicker of irritation crossed Nine's face. He was silent for a beat too long, but then he nodded. "If… that's what you want."
"Good," Aya said firmly. "Then we leave now."
Nine clicked his tongue. "Anything else, princess?"
"Meat."
A grin tugged at his lips despite himself. "Of course."
He extended his hand. For a moment, she hesitated. Then, slowly, she placed her palm against his.
Nine clasped her fingers between his own, rubbing warmth into her cold skin. "And where would you like to go?"
"I heard the monks in the western region have the most peaceful land right now," Aya murmured.
"Then we'll head west," Nine agreed.
Aya exhaled softly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Let's build a garden," she mused, voice barely above a whisper.
"Mm-hm."
"I want wooden floors," she continued, a hint of excitement returning to her voice. "It's comfier for being barefoot."
Nine smirked. "And?"
"Colla's been teaching me some basic martial arts."
"I can teach you, too," he offered, intrigued.
"Then we should have a vacation by the sea someday," she added.
"Sure," he said, meaning it.
As they moved through the darkness, their voices intertwined, painting fragile dreams of a future neither knew they could reach. For now, it was enough.
For the first time in a long while, Nine didn't look back.