-
The world was quiet when Cecilia spoke.
"You went there…"
Her voice was calm. Too calm. As if she already knew. As if she had always known.
She raised a hand before he could answer.
"I know what you're planning. Revenge, right? You've always carried it in you. I want to stop you… But that would make me a hypocrite."
Her expression softened — and somehow, that hurt more than anger.
"So instead… do what you must. But don't give them an easy death."
Baines tried to breathe — but his chest tightened.
His tears broke free.
He shouldn't be crying. He had decided to be strong. He had decided.
"I'll bring us back," he swore through gritted teeth. "I promise."
Cecilia smiled — faint, bittersweet — and they embraced.
When he pulled away, the manor halls were empty. No guards. No maids. Just silence guiding him out.
He glanced up at the high window. Cecilia watched from their mother's room, a faint silhouette against the candlelight.
If he went to her now, he would never leave.
So he turned and walked into the night.
The merchant district pulsed around him, but everything felt wrong. Torchlight flickered too brightly, colors bleeding at the edges. Voices overlapped, echoing strangely.
The merchant district pulsed around him, but everything felt wrong. Torchlight flickered too brightly, colors bleeding at the edges. Voices overlapped, echoing strangely.
"Silks from the east…"
"Steel for warriors…"
Yet every face blurred, every weapon glinted too sharply.
He moved without effort, feet barely touching the ground, until the old sign creaked ahead:
Baek Transport Agency.
The sign creaked… though there was no wind.
KNOCK.
The door opened before he finished knocking.
Kwon stood there.
Exactly as he remembered.
Exactly as he had always been.
"Young master," he greeted warmly. "Come in."
The room smelled like dust and tea and something else he couldn't name. The walls were as he remembered — and not at all.
Kwon poured tea that steamed without heat.
"So," he said gently. "What brings you here?"
Baines spoke — but he didn't remember forming the words.
"I need a favor."
Kwon bowed.
"You need only ask."
Baines' voice shifted — colder — older — like it wasn't his.
"I need you to sell me to the savage tribes."
The cup slipped from Kwon's fingers. It fell in slow motion, shattering without sound.
The room rippled.
"Young… master?" Kwon's voice cracked.
Baines repeated it.
"I need you to sell me to them."
Silence pressed in — heavy — suffocating.
Kwon trembled.
"Why?"
"I want revenge," he said, voice flat.
Time fractured.
Suddenly, they were outside again.
Fire.
Flames licked from nowhere, silent and hungry.
Screams.
The market was burning.
Black figures emerged from the shadows, masks marked with the bleeding eye beneath a dagger, and attacked anyone in sight.
The emblem burned into his mind. The same symbol.
The same night.
The same fear.
His breath shattered.
Screams rose—but no sound reached him.
The manor in the distance, engulfed.
His vision tunneled — everything stretching — twisting — warping into the day his world ended.
The ground tilted.
The sky bled.
The screams layered over memories that weren't supposed to exist.
Crimson energy surged beneath his skin.
His body moved —
—or tried to.
PSTCHTCH—
Pain ripped through his chest.
A blade slid between his ribs, cold and precise.
He looked down. Blood—his blood—spread warm across his chest.
He turned.
Kwon held the dagger, face empty of the kindness Baines had always known.
"Why, young master?" His voice was hollow — distant — as if spoken from somewhere beneath the earth. "Why couldn't you just stay in your little prison?"
The flames spread.
The assassins walked toward the manor.
Toward his mother.
Toward Cecilia.
"No."
"Not again—" he choked. "Please— not again—" His hand reached out, fingers clawing at the air, but there was nothing to grasp, nothing to save.
Kwon's voice echoed — layered — repeating — splitting into two — then three — then many.
"This is what happens when you start dreaming of escape."
"This is what happens when you try to change fate."
"This is what happens when you remember."
The world dimmed.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
—
"I'm really sorry about this."
'What?'
The voice was closer now. Familiar. Emotional. Female.
Cold metal beneath his head.
"Open it."
'Open what?'
Bright light stabbed down.
Hands—gloved, steady—hovered above him.
"All of you leave."
The room emptied. Only one figure remained, shadowed.
"Ready for implantation."
'Cecilia?'
Something cold and sharp touched his temple.
Pain flared—sharp, invasive.
'Arghhhh!'
A woman's voice, soft and broken.
"…Remember our promise."
'Remember what?'
Another darkness swallowed him.
—
Baines' eyes snapped open.
Another darkness.
His heart thundered in his chest.
The weight, the emotion, the pain — all still there.
His breath tore from his lungs in a hoarse scream—
"CECILIA!"
The echo hung in the void.
The pain did not fade.
The dream was gone.
But the memories…were not.