I understand what you're saying... But... can I really lie to her...?
Look at her... that concern in her eyes... so much pain... all because I disappeared for two years. Not just her—Father, Uncle... everyone I left behind, they've all suffered.
And now... today... Do you really think I stand a chance against them? They're not some low-level criminals or random beasts I've dealt with before... They're—
Other Voice (cold, inside his head):
—They're monsters . And don't forget, those 'criminals' and 'beasts' you hunted? That wasn't you. That was me.
You were too soft to even hold a knife to a man's throat. You froze. You hesitated.
If I hadn't taken control, you would've died like a stray dog in the gutter. I made you strong. I kept us alive.
And now you want to involve her? You really think you can protect her? Then go ahead—bring her in. But listen carefully: I'll kill her. Even if you beg me, even if you fall on your knees—I'll kill her right here, right now.
YOUUUU!! How dare you speak about her like that?! She's my sister! You bastard—I'll KILL you!
Other Voice (mocking, calm):
—You? Kill me? We're the same. If I die, you die too. Don't forget that.
And don't even think about some noble suicide to take me down with you. That's just stupidity in a heroic mask.
And tell me—what about your family then? What about your sister? What about the one you love the most?
Do you really think the world will be kind to them? The world hates you. It loathes your very existence.
Did you forget what's going to happen tonight? How bloody it's going to be?
You want to involve her in that? You want her to be the one who pays the price if something goes wrong?
Rped... killed... torn apart by what's coming… Did you account for that?
You don't have full knowledge of the future—just shattered fragments, blurry pieces.
Don't let a surge of emotion become the reason you lose everything.
Calm down.
Think.
THINK, DAMN IT.
Noir's fist trembled. The skin on his palm tore as his nails dug in deep. Drops of blood trickled down, dark red against his pale skin. When the voice had threatened her, something inside Noir snapped—but what followed... was a painful truth.
He's right, Noir admitted bitterly.
It was me... I was the one who forgot. I let my emotions blind me. I let warmth deceive me.
This... isn't her war. It's not my family's battle to fight.
This... is my war.
A war against fate.
A war against destiny.
A war against them.
A war between the villain... and the hero.
Noir's body trembled not with rage now—but guilt.
What was the point of the two years I spent surviving in the dark? What did I even learn? What did I gain? From Him... from everything?
Why am I still so weak...?
His clenched fist tightened further. Blood now oozed from between his fingers, dripping to the ground like falling tears. His entire hand turned crimson.
His sister didn't notice at first. The blood remained hidden inside his closed fist. But then—she saw it. Her eyes widened in horror. Without hesitation, she rushed to him and grabbed his hand with both of hers.
Her soft white hands became stained with blood. She didn't care.
She felt the strength in his grip. The unbearable pressure. The anguish.
"Noir!" she cried.
His eyes flickered—as if waking from a trance.
"Huh...?"
His voice was dazed. Shaken. Like a child pulled from a nightmare.
"What are you doing?!" she yelled again.
He looked down... and saw the mess of blood.
"Oh... it's just blood," he said quietly, almost too calmly.
Her heart skipped a beat.
What happened to him...?
But now wasn't the time for questions. She turned and called out, panic in her voice:
"Lara! Quickly—bring a healing potion!"
In the kitchen, Lara was humming softly, stirring a pot.
Master will finally taste my cooking again after so long... I'll make sure he craves only mine from now on, she thought with a warm smile.
Suddenly—
"Lara!! Quickly!! Bring... a... healing... potion!!"
The urgency in the young Miss's voice made her freeze.
What happened...? Why a healing potion...?!
She didn't waste a second. Grabbing one from the stock in the kitchen—where rich families always kept potions for both cooking and emergencies—she rushed out.
When she entered the hall, what she saw stole the breath from her lungs.
Her master stood there—his hand glowing with green healing light. Blood still clung to his skin.
Surrounded by four or five maids, all with horror on their faces. The young Miss knelt beside him, holding his hand as if afraid to let go.
Lara's warm kitchen smile vanished.
Her eyes sharpened—piercing, cold. The joy that once danced in them became still... like moonlight over a frozen lake.