Life in the slums had a rhythm—an ugly, uneven beat, but a rhythm all the same.
Most mornings, after training and before I hurried off to the Red Lantern House, I spent a little time with Rua and Flin. It was never anything big. Just chores. Messing around. Being kids for a few minutes before reality dragged us back by the neck.
Rua hummed as she scrubbed laundry in a dented bucket.
Flin kicked a pebble back and forth like it was a game.
I swept the cracked floorboards with a broom missing half its bristles.
"Rain," Rua said suddenly, "your face looks tired."
"That's just his face," Flin chimed in.
I flicked the broom lightly at his shin. "Trip on your way out today."
"Gladly," Flin grinned.
Rua giggled, and for a moment, I felt the world soften.
Just a moment.
Afternoon at the Red Lantern House
The brothel was louder today. Not in the usual way. There was tension in the air—sharp, and dangerous.
Miss Heinal was overwhelmed with orders.
Workers whispered urgently in corners.
Clients drank faster than usual.
I carried food up the stairs, balancing the trays. I had just gotten good at dodging hands, bottles, and drunken footsteps.
But even as I worked, I slowly kept noticing it.
The fear.
Something was wrong.
When I brought a bowl of stew to one of the older workers, she grabbed my wrist before I could leave.
"Rain," she whispered. "You should go home early. Tonight… is going to be dangerous."
I looked at her, "Why? What's happening?"
Her eyes flickered to the door.
"The Red Tides."
I froze.
A local drug gang. They went around terrorizing businesses such as the Red Lantern for "Protection Fees."
And if they weren't paid?
They took whatever they liked instead.
I clenched my jaw. The Red Lantern House always paid them… but apparently, not enough this month.
"Go home," she said again.
I shook my head.
"I work here."
Her lips tightened. She didn't argue. She knew I wasn't leaving.
It happened fast.
Shouting outside.
Heavy boots slamming against wood.
The front door cracking inward.
I had just finished sweeping the first floor when a bottle smashed against the far wall.
"Where's the boss!?"
"You think you can hold out on us!?"
"Bring out the new girl—we'll take payment ourselves!"
Miss Heinal stepped forward, chin high. Brave, but trembling.
Before I could think, one of their members shoved her aside.
Something inside me snapped like a bowstring.
Before I knew it, I was right in front of him. I didn't know why, my body just moved there.
"This ain't your business, brat," He sneered.
He reached for my collar.
Despite that I moved first.
I grabbed my wooden sword—cracked from endless training—it appeared in my hand before I even registered the motion.
I swung.
Hard.
It smashed into the member's jaw with a sickening crack. The man fell instantly, unconscious or dead—I didn't know.
The room fell silent.
All the gang members stared, all six of them.
I turned my head towards them and stared back, chest heaving.
Then all hell ripped loose.
They drew knives.
Clubs.
One had a rusted cutlass.
I didn't feel fear at first.
Just motion.
Instinct.
Training.
Everything Zenite said, everything I had practiced, copied, everything my body remembered—
It all converged into a single sharp line.
A member lunged at me with a dagger.
I grabbed his wrist, twisted, drove my forehead into the man's nose, and—
Without thinking—
Ramned the splintered wooden sword straight into the man's throat.
It happened in a blink.
The man collapsed, choking and gurgling, eyes wide with shock.
I froze.
His breath vanished.
His hands trembled.
His vision blurred around the edges.
I… I just…
But there was no time to waste.
Another one charged.
I stumbled back, barely dodging a blade. Someone behind him screamed. Miss Heinal threw a wine bottle. A male worker tackled another member.
I gripped my weapon—covered in blood, wet, warm—and I forced myself to move.
One strike.
Two.
Three.
Bodies fell.
I didn't even remember half the movements. My mind turned into a storm. My limbs acted on their own. My heartbeat roared louder than the chaos.
When it finally ended, I stood there, in the center of the first floor, panting.
The floorboards were soaked.
Tables smashed.
Lanterns dim.
The metallic scent of blood thick in the air.
The cracked wooden sword hung limply in my hand.
My entire body trembled.
Not with pride.
Not with power.
Not with victory.
With shock.
With something colder.
Something heavier.
Miss Heinal stepped forward slowly, as if approaching a wild animal.
"Rain… you saved us."
I didn't respond.
I couldn't.
Because for the first time in his life…
I had killed.
And I was still standing.
The last surviving gang member crawled toward the door, dragging himself with one arm.
He looked back.
I didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't speak.
It was silent.
Blood-soaked.
Eyes unfocused, dark, unreadable.
Not human.
Not monster.
Something in between.
The remaining member scrambled out the door, screaming.
My shoulders slumped a moment later.
The weight of what I had done finally crashed into me at all angles.
Miss Heinal stepped close.
"Rain… breathe. Just breathe."
I did.
But barely.
Because tonight, in the blood-soaked light of the Red Lantern House…
A part of me died.
And something else was emerging.