After that, I walked with Seishan back toward the outskirts.
The rain was light at first, almost gentle — a drizzle that shimmered in the lamplight like silver dust.
Her hand was warm against mine, her fingers soft yet firm, guiding me through the slick stone paths of the Dark City.
For the first time in a while, I didn't feel like a monster.
Not a prisoner, not a killer — just a man walking beside someone who didn't flinch when she looked at him.
The feeling was… alien. I didn't want it to end.
But of course, it had to.
A trio of guards appeared from the corner — cloaks heavy with rainwater, halberds glinting under the torchlight.
They bowed quickly to Seishan, then one of them spoke, voice muffled under his helmet.
"Lady Seishan, Lord Gunlaug requests your presence."
She gave me an apologetic look.
I forced a grin, the kind that hides the kind of ache that's not in your ribs but in your chest.
"It's fine. Duty calls, right?"
She hesitated, then squeezed my hand before stepping back.
And just like that — the warmth was gone.
I stood there in the rain as she walked away, her figure swallowed by the fog.
The silence that followed was almost holy.
Only the rhythm of rain hitting stone filled the empty street.
I tilted my head up, watching the sky bleed silver.
The air smelled like iron and memory.
I wondered if it was raining in the real world too.
Was Rain — my little sister — still afraid of lightning?
She'd cling to my arm every time thunder struck, trembling but refusing to admit it.
I used to tease her, call her "storm bait," but I always stayed with her till the sky cleared.
Who was comforting her now?
Mom? Maybe Dad.
Or Luka — kind kid, too kind for his own good.
Maybe even Dante, though knowing him, he'd probably still be teasing her instead.
They must have changed by now.
All of them.
Growing up while I rot in a dream built out of blood and pain.
Were Luka and Dante still arguing with Mom about playing outside when it rained?
Probably not. They're too old for that now.
Time doesn't wait for monsters like me.
Will I ever see them again?
And if I do… what will they see?
Not the brother they knew. Not anymore.
They'd see a murderer. A beast wearing their son's skin.
I've killed more people than I could ever remember.
Men. Women. Dreamers. All thrown into this nightmare without a choice —
forced to fight, forced to bleed, forced to live.
Who would ever want to be here?
No one.
And yet, I kept surviving.
Maybe that's my sin.
---
[Poem: "The Rain Remembers"]
The rain remembers faces I've forgotten.
It seeps into the cracks where names once lived,
filling them with echoes of what I used to be.
Every drop that hits the earth is a confession,
every puddle a mirror too honest to look into.
My reflection keeps asking questions I can't answer.
"How much of you is left?" it whispers.
"How much blood before you drown?"
The thunder doesn't wait for permission.
It just screams.
I used to think lightning was divine punishment.
Now I know it's mercy —
burning the sky so I don't have to see myself anymore.
I once chased storms.
Now they chase me.
---
When I finally opened my eyes, the street was empty.
I hadn't even realized I'd stopped walking. My hands were trembling, maybe from the cold, maybe from something else.
"Where the hell did that come from…" I muttered.
The poem echoed in my mind like someone else's voice — familiar, but buried under too many scars.
Then, just as I was about to move again — someone crashed into me from behind.
Hard enough to nearly knock me over.
"Hey, watch where you're going!"
That voice. Sharp. Confident. Too damn familiar.
I turned, rain dripping from my hair into my eyes.
"Wait a damn minute — is that you? Bloodsucker?!"
My mind blanked. Then it clicked.
Effie.
Of all the ways to reunite, this wasn't how I imagined it.
"Hello—"
Before I could even finish, she slammed into me, arms around my chest, crushing the air — and at least two ribs — out of me.
"You're alive! How the hell are you alive?!"
I tried to push her off, but she was surprisingly strong — or maybe I was just out of practice.
"Very, very long story," I coughed out. "I'll explain later. All you need to know right now is I'm not a ghost."
Finally, she loosened her grip — only for another hand to smack me hard across the back, sending me stumbling forward.
Why… why do women always hit me when they see me?
"So you're alive," the new voice said. "And you've got a new look. Gotta admit—it suits you."
Sara. I recognized her now, tall, broad-shouldered, her armor dented and scarred from years of battle.
She eyed me up and down like a wolf deciding if I was worth eating.
I instinctively tried to cover myself — despite being fully armored.
She smirked. "Relax, Butcher-boy. I'm not gonna bite. Not unless you ask."
Effie laughed, and I realized I'd walked right into their rhythm again — same teasing energy, same familiarity that hurt in the best way.
"So," Sara continued, crossing her arms, "judging by all the commotion, you must be the infamous Dark City Butcher. Quite the title for a cute little boy like you."
Why were tall muscular women always the ones tormenting me? Was this some cosmic joke?
She laughed again, sharp and warm all at once.
"Oh, you should've seen your face! Gotta say, Butcher—big fan of your work."
She stepped closer, leaned in, voice low enough to feel like a spark against my ear.
"And you."
That was my cue to back away. Immediately.
"Right. I, uh, appreciate the… compliment?"
I jumped back a few paces, pretending it was strategic distance, not panic.
Effie just rolled her eyes. "Same old Alucard. Still socially allergic."
From what Seishan told me, Sara used to be in the First Bright Lord's cohort.
That meant she'd been here nearly eight years.
Eight years surviving in this nightmare. That wasn't just skill — that was something else. Something unnatural.
Before I could even ask more, Effie grabbed my arm.
"Come on. You're explaining everything. We're not letting you wander off after that little resurrection stunt."
I barely had time to protest before she and Sara started dragging me down the street.
Behind them, the rest of their small cohort followed — silent, curious, and suspicious all at once.
The rain came down heavier now, drumming on the rooftops like a heartbeat.
Dad's voice echoed in my head suddenly, one of those old lessons that just stuck:
"If you ever go to a woman's house, son — always bring protection."
So, just in case, I summoned Beast.
He materialized beside me with a low growl, then sat obediently outside the gate, tail wagging lazily as the rain poured over his black fur.
I looked at him, then back at the two women dragging me by my arms.
"I'm beginning to think I should've stayed in the cell," I muttered.
Effie shot me a grin over her shoulder. "Too late for that, Butcher-boy. Welcome back to hell."
And with that, they hauled me into the light spilling from the doorway — the first real home I'd seen in years.