What is an [Ill Omen]?
If it’s only your own bad luck—tripping on flat roads, choking on water, getting hit by falling junk—people just call you unlucky.
An [Ill Omen] is a baleful star, a shadow that stains those nearby. Misfortune clings to their kin like cold dew, spilling [Misfortune] on anyone close, again and again.
Such a person is despised, feared, even hated.
Only then do they deserve the name [Ill Omen].
[Crimson Blossom] is exactly that.
She isn’t [Misfortune] itself. But her gift, [Reflection], keeps flinging [Misfortune] back into the world—yes, just as Ye Weibai said. She reflects more than attacks and raw force. She reflects the formless, weightless [Misfortune] that moves like a chill wind.
Loose [Misfortune] is like snow under warm sun—left alone, it melts before it gathers, bringing no more than a careless fall.
Reflected by the woman, [Misfortune] turns to tempered cold iron. It becomes a bayonet that slides into the hearts of those near her, a cruel stroke of ill fate.
None of it lies within her control.
Such is a calamity star.
Ye Weibai, honored as the [Demon King], saw it cleanly, through and through.
So when he said, “You’re pretty cute,” the gaze resting in her crimson irises held no love, only pity.
And when the black-haired boy’s praise, “You’re pretty cute,” fell into her ears, the red-haired woman wavered—wounded too deep. Memory rose like mirage heat: a brilliant summer long ago, a tall red-headed figure once said those same words to her.
Fate repeats like echoing bells. Back then, her posture and plight mirrored this moment almost perfectly.
She was sprawled on the ground, battered and bare. A collar cinched her neck. A rope ran from it like a dead snake.
The other end lay in his hand.
He crouched before her. She bit her lip bloody and tried to see his face, but backlight burned her eyes with tears. She saw nothing, only the blurred curve of a gentle smile.
His touch was gentle too. Long fingers moved like cool water across every inch of her skin.
She shook all over. Goosebumps chased his fingertip like ripples in a pond.
She fought the revulsion. She widened her eyes, trying to see him, trying to know—who was he?
Was that—her father?
Or the living shape of all her—misery and [Misfortune]?
“Hmm? Why tears?” He brushed the wetness from her lashes with tender care. She flinched back, heart freezing. He only laughed, easy as spring wind. “Ah, what an adorable reaction.”
“So adorable—my dear daughter.”
…
…
“No—no—!”
Buzz—!
Wind sharpened to knives.
A stunning aura burst from [Crimson Blossom], splitting her shackles in a heartbeat.
She shot up like a phoenix breaking its cage, piercing the black pressure and leaping high.
Moonlight glazed her streaming red hair. Then a hand settled gently on her shoulder and pressed her down.
Boom—!
A snow-white knee hit stone. Shards flew like startled swallows.
“Easy.”
Ye Weibai pressed her back again. His motion looked soft, but the weight bit deep. The instant she landed, [Crimson Blossom] dropped to one knee.
The shattered ground webbed with cracks. They spread outward like frost lines, and when they touched the walls, they faded to smoke—the [Demon King] held power with needle-fine control.
Kneeling, [Crimson Blossom] tasted [Despair].
Half her torso armor had peeled away, baring a flat belly and a hard, lean waist. Beneath her chest, a half-circle lay bound in white bandages, exposed to night air.
She was close to her full form, yet the black-haired boy suppressed her with easy poise.
Whenever she surged, he stood a hair above.
A hair above, and the height became bottomless.
Like a lightless abyss—no end, no hope.
She hadn’t felt this helpless for ages… but in childhood, she lived it again and again.
That man—she killed him. Her strength now towered far beyond his; a foe she once had to face with a death vow, she could end with one hand.
But the shadow he left was always pitch black.
It hooded her heart.
Just like the black-haired boy before her—his palm roughened her smooth shoulder, and her body remembered. Goosebumps rose, tinted with a blush that spread like dusk.
She began to tremble.
“Don’t be afraid.” Ye Weibai looked down at her, voice low and gentle. “I won’t kill you. Not now. I just have questions—about what you said.”
“You said you’d kill me, whether I’m the [Imperial Tutor] or not.” Ye Weibai’s tone stayed calm. “If I’m not, your reason is yesterday’s silver-haired woman, and maybe that red-haired man. Am I right?”
[Crimson Blossom] kept silent.
Ye Weibai didn’t mind. He smiled. “Then if I am the [Imperial Tutor], I think I’ve guessed your reason too.”
The woman snapped her head up. She locked her gaze on him.
She refused to believe it—even if this man’s strength was boundless, [Crimson Blossom] would never accept that he knew that reason. Because in this [World], only she should know that secret.
But a shadow of dread crept up inside her, slow and cold. It made her restless.
“You—” Ye Weibai met her eyes and chuckled. “You’re the [Hero King]’s [companion], aren’t you?”
She still didn’t speak. Sharp as a blade, Ye Weibai saw through her visor to those pupils, shrinking tight.
“Ha—” After a long pause, a laugh rolled up from her throat, heavy with scorn. “You mean the [Hero King]’s [companions] have started killing each other?”
Ye Weibai ignored the barb and went on, mild as mist. “According to legend, once the [Hero King] meets the first companion, the rest follow quickly.”
“And your reason for killing the [Imperial Tutor] is simple.” Ye Weibai smiled. “Because you’ve become the [Demon King]’s hound—”
[Crimson Blossom] froze.
The [Demon King]’s hound? That’s a heavy cap. Wear it, and you can hardly live in a [World] built around the [Hero King].
But—[Crimson Blossom] felt this was better—better than having her true secret exposed. That would drag what’s left of her life into pure [Despair].
She hesitated. The boulder in her chest started to drop. She opened her mouth to accept it.
Then she heard—
“You think I’d say that?”
The black-haired [Demon King] smiled, a grin black as ink even under the moon.
“Your true reason is this—you don’t want him to become a proper [Hero King].”
“Am I wrong?”
“[Warrior].”
