Nine had always been a survivor. He could outthink, outfight, and outlast nearly anything life threw at him. But fatherhood? That was an entirely different kind of battlefield.
Seven was small but unpredictable, demanding but utterly defenseless. And yet, Nine took to it as if he had been born for this role. He knew how to calm his son's cries, how to predict what he needed before he even realized it himself. He had learned the precise moment when a wail was about to turn into a full-blown tantrum and how to silence it before it could shake the walls.
For Aya, he filled their villa with everything she liked, ensuring she never had to ask for anything twice. Fruits, silks, flowers—whatever pleased her. Whatever made her smile.
And Colla? She remained in the background, the ever-present shadow. A guardian, a quiet observer. A blade sheathed, yet never dull.
Then—
A sound broke through the afternoon stillness.
"Ma… mah!"
Nine's head snapped toward Seven. Their son sat on the floor, tiny arms outstretched, his dark eyes alight with excitement.
Aya inhaled sharply. "His first words."
Nine's lips curled into a grin. "Tch. Of course, he calls you first."
Seven's little fingers stretched toward Aya, reaching, needing.
But Nine was faster.
In one smooth motion, he scooped Seven up, lifting him high into the air.
The response was immediate. Seven blinked. His tiny brows furrowed. His lips wobbled—
Then he wailed.
Nine furrowed his own brows, mirroring his son's displeasure. "This little shi—"
"Nine." Aya's voice was sharp, her gaze sharper.
Nine sighed dramatically, but instead of handing their son over, he pulled Aya against him with his free arm, trapping her against his chest. "You hear that, Seven? She's mine."
Seven let out a hiccuping cry, his chubby fists trembling.
"Mama!" he sobbed, twisting in Nine's hold, desperate to escape.
Nine smirked—and, just to be cruel, nuzzled closer to Aya, his lips brushing against her cheek before pressing a slow, teasing kiss to her lips.
"Too bad, little prince."
Seven's face scrunched up, his body trembling.
Then—he screamed.
"Muwahahaha!" Nine's laughter rang through the room, wicked and triumphant.
Aya sighed but failed to suppress a smile. "Give him to me, Nine."
Reluctantly, Nine handed their son over. The moment Seven settled into Aya's arms, he clung to her, burying his face against her shoulder with a soft sniffle.
Aya pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, swaying slightly. "Handsome Seven."
As if understanding, Seven let out a small giggle.
Nine reached out, wiping away the last of his son's tears before rubbing his small, red nose. His gaze flickered between mother and child, something unreadable in his eyes. Then, in a perfectly serious tone, he said, "I want more."
Aya arched a brow. "More?"
Nine nodded. "At least ten."
Aya huffed a laugh and turned away. "I want fruits. Bring me some."
Nine placed a hand over his heart, bowing dramatically. "As you command, my queen."
Then he was gone, vanishing in a blur of movement, leaving only the whisper of wind in his wake.
The treetops whispered around him as Nine raced through the forest, leaping effortlessly from branch to branch heading to the nearest market. The world blurred past—shadows and light shifting in rapid succession. The wind pressed against him, cool against his skin.
Then—
A shift.
A sensation crawled along his spine. Barely there. A disturbance in the air, like something watching. Waiting.
Nine stilled mid-air, landing lightly on a thick branch. His sharp eyes flickered to the forest floor below.
There.
A man stood beneath him, his face tilted upward. He was wrong. His presence—muted. Nearly imperceptible. If not for the subtle ripple of energy against Nine's instincts, he might not have noticed him at all.
Their gazes locked.
For a moment, the world held its breath.
Then the man moved.
Nine grinned. Ah. It had been too long since he'd felt this thrill.
He bolted after him.
"Hey!" Nine called, keeping pace effortlessly. "Aren't you here to kill me?"
The man didn't answer. Didn't even look back. Instead, he ran faster.
Nine's grin faded slightly.
His direction—
Nine's expression darkened. He was heading toward the villa.
A cold, sharp thing twisted in his gut.
No.
His body moved before thought could catch up. Faster. Harder. He would not let this bastard get close.
Just as Nine reached out to seize him—
The man veered sharply, changing course.
Nine slowed slightly, tilting his head. A trap? A game?
At the forest's edge, the man stopped.
Nine landed on a high branch, crouching, watching.
The man turned.
Nine exhaled, straightening before dropping lightly to the ground. His boots barely made a sound.
Closer now, he could see it.
The wrongness.
The man's skin rippled, shifting like it didn't quite belong to him. His lips twitched unnaturally, his features distorting, as if something was wearing him like a mask.
His eyes—empty.
Nine twirled his dagger lazily. "Alright. What are you?"
The man convulsed. His mouth opened, but his voice did not come naturally. It was forced, as though someone was pulling the words from his throat.
"Greetings," he rasped. Blood dripped from his lips.
Nine stilled.
"Ah, fuck it," he sighed, scratching his temple with the hilt of his blade. "Demon? You're already dead."
The man spasmed violently. Blood burst from his eyes, ears, nose. His body jerked, twisting—
"I… I am t-the… L... Lust," he choked. "Sin of… Lust."
Nine's dagger froze mid-spin.
His gaze sharpened.
"I want Greed," he said flatly.
The man convulsed harder, his limbs jerking. "Y-you… saint… Lust. Save. Receive."
Then he screamed.
A sound that did not belong to this world. Agony and resentment woven into one.
And then—
He collapsed.
Silence.
Nine exhaled slowly, watching.
Then—
The body shriveled.
And something lifted from it. A dark, shimmering orb.
Nine's body tensed.
It pulsed once—then shot toward him.
Nine dodged—fast. His body moved instantly, running.
But the orb followed. The wind howled past.
"The fuck?" he muttered.
WHOOSH
It struck his back.
His body slammed into a tree trunk, the force rattling his bones.
Silence.
Then—
His fingers twitched.
Slowly, Nine lifted his head.
A flicker of something else passed through his vision.
He exhaled, releasing a slow breath of smoke.
Without hesitation, Nine lifted his blade—and drove it into his own back.
The pain was irrelevant.
He slumped forward, crossing his legs, his mind turning inward. Sensing.
Something had changed. A new power flowing in him.
Nine frowned.
"Aya wouldn't like this," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair.