“What are you doing?”

When Yin stepped out of the deep woods, the full moon had already bowed out. Dawn leapt over the ridge like a red koi, steam of light blooming across the peaks.

On a boulder by the forest’s mouth sat a little girl with short silver‑gray hair, a frost‑petal fallen on stone.

Her face was fine as carved jade. The black, ornate dress fanned like a dark lily, hem stopping a third down her calves. Every inch of skin bare to the air held a sickbed pallor, winter on porcelain. Most striking were her eyes, catching the newborn sun like twin mirrors.

They were silver twin irises, a starfield gone quiet, gray motes rising and sinking like ash in a snow globe.

Even if it truly was a sky full of stars, it was a dead sky, cold and lightless.

Yin watched the girl’s side profile blush under sunrise, and the thought flashed through like a sparrow: that sky is dead.

She knew the child was of a rare lineage. Before she came under the Crimson Blossom, she’d hunted and sold such rarities without a blink, a wolf in velvet. Yet now, facing this girl, that hunger didn’t even stir. It felt wrong, like drawing a knife on a mirror.

What she felt instead was… a strange familiarity, an echo on still water.

Familiar? The word struck her heart like a misfired drum. She finally understood why. She saw—herself.

The small her who once staggered out of a black wooden hut. Despair like night fog, helplessness like tied hands, confusion like a maze, and a wanderer’s drift with no north star.

So she spoke.

“What are you doing?”

The little girl tilted her head, a bird testing the wind. She glanced at Yin, needed two beats to decide the question was for her, then answered, voice light as dust.

“Can you see me?” Stardust asked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Yin shot back, dry grass catching a spark.

In Stardust’s silver eyes, the gray particles rippled like rain on a pond, then dimmed. Whether seen or unseen, what changed? Ends were written. Strangers in the end—like that black‑haired boy.

Meetings that ended as abruptly as Misfortune cutting a red thread—she’d had enough.

She braced to cut the talk short. Yin cut first.

“I’m going to find someone. Want to come?” Her own words surprised her, a blade that slid out before she thought to draw it. Yet to this girl, right now, it felt natural, like breathing.

If the words were natural, the motion was simpler still. Yin didn’t wait for an answer. She turned and started walking, leaving only a cool, matter‑of‑fact line drifting like smoke.

“Keep up.”

Stardust blinked, lips pressing into a thin petal. She watched that receding back and couldn’t help crying out, voice catching on a thorn. “You’ll forget me!”

The sentence came from nowhere. Anyone else would be lost at sea. Yin answered clean, as if that tide had no pull on her. “So what?”

So… what?

Stardust’s breath snagged. That back kept shrinking into the morning. She wasn’t stopping.

“Yeah. So what.”

Her pupils trembled; her gaze went hazy, and for a heartbeat Bai’s silhouette overlapped perfectly with the tall, sultry, silver‑haired woman.

She steadied herself on the stone and rose, a reed in wind finding its root.

“Find someone, huh…”

Her quaking eyes stilled, silver settling like frost. She whispered, a vow folded under breath, “I’ll find you. I’ll find you, and then—by our contract—I’ll kill you… Bai.”

…

…

Stardust truly, truly liked Bai.

Terrified of tasting the pain of being forgotten again, she’d sealed herself away for who knew how many ages. When she finally opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a black‑haired boy with a slight smile, like a lantern in a long tunnel.

Fear and jitters churned in her, yes, but more than that—expectation, a burst of joy, a spring under ice.

To her, even a simple greeting from Bai was no less than a rope thrown into the dark. He pulled her from the well.

No one truly loves to be alone.

She never spoke of it. She just trailed behind him, quiet as a shadow. As long as her eyes were open, they never left him. Just seeing him—without a word—filled her chest, a hearth burning steady.

She liked him so much. She wished to walk with him forever. So when that violet curtain shattered and Bai stepped out from the ruins, she rushed forward to hug him—yet they brushed past each other like ghosts—

Stardust was very, very, very sad.

So she wanted to find Bai, ask plainly why he’d turned his back on a promise he himself had made.

And right now, what was Ye Weibai doing?

…

…

Time rewound by a few enchanted hours.

“Wh—why—why—”

Kneeling on hard river stones, a blonde girl let her silver longsword clatter onto rock. Blood slicked her from shoulder to heel, a red shawl thrown by night.

All of it was someone else’s blood.

Corpses lay around her like cut wheat. Each had been felled by a single thrust, clean and final. Even without seeing the slaughter, those neat, fatal wounds were enough to freeze the marrow.

Who would believe these bodies were the famed Paladins of the Church of the Divine? More unbelievable—killing them wasn’t some top‑ten butcher on the bounty lists, nor a saint‑ranked beast out of legend. It was a girl of sixteen.

Days ago, she didn’t even reach an ordinary fighter’s level.

Part of it was Aerin’s own strangeness—her strength wasn’t as feeble as the world saw; it had simply vanished. The key was something else—something that unshackled her.

Everyone has it. Everyone hates it. Its name is—

[Fear].

Under night’s veil, a black‑haired, black‑eyed boy stepped out of the inky Void, and stood by Aerin. His hair lifted in a quiet wind; his gaze cut clean, light and shadow split like blade and sheath.

“Why? Because—[Fear],” Ye Weibai answered Aerin, voice cool as river stone.

Aerin shook. She couldn’t believe all that just now was her. She’d killed. Not one. Not two. Seventeen. That wasn’t a fight—no, the other side couldn’t even raise a hand. It was a cull.

Her mind was clear, yet her body refused her orders. Still, it didn’t feel like possession. It felt like… another her had taken the reins. Whoever held them—she knew the hands that drew the blade were hers.

Worse—deep down, she was intoxicated by that state, and that frightened her most.

In that skin, she drew like lightning, moved like thunder. She was cold, strong, a hawk off the tether—nothing like the weak, timid, useless self she loathed. Wasn’t this exactly what she’d wanted?

It was what she wanted. And yet a bottomless fear pooled under it, a sense that if she kept opening that door, one day an irreversible tragedy would step through.

The clash of it left her tangled, lost at sea. First blood on her hands weighed like iron; nausea rose like a storm tide.

“[Fear]…?” She bit her lip, lifted a pale face, and looked at Master Bai.

“Yes.” Ye Weibai nodded. “Aerin. Isn’t this what you wished for? Didn’t you want to be strong?”

“Yes, but—” Her breath came fast, the shore broken by wave after wave. “But it’s not right, Master Bai—it’s not right.”

“Nothing’s not right. What’s off is you.” Ye Weibai held her in his gaze. “Everything has a price—I told you before. And you agreed.”

“But I feel like I’m not…” Aerin looked at her hands. No blood stained them now, yet they felt tacky, as if drenched in it. “I’m nothing like the [Hero King].”

Yes—nothing like the [Hero King]. The [Hero King] wouldn’t slaughter the innocent. Much less people of the Church of the Divine. They’d always helped the [Hero King]!

“Heh.” Ye Weibai let out a small laugh. “What’s your [Hero King] like? When someone comes to kill without a word, should the [Hero King] put out bound hands?”

“I—” She faltered. “There must be some misunderstanding. At least… there should be… another way.”

“You’re right. There are other ways.” Ye Weibai’s tone cooled like a blade in snow. “But [Fear] picks the most direct and brutal way.”

“Then please, Master Bai, take it back—” The plea leapt out. He cut it clean in the air.

“Shut up.” The smile vanished. The black‑haired boy stared her down, cold and steady. “Aerin, you think this is a game? This road is your life on the line.”

“I… I…” She’d never seen Master Bai so severe. Fear clamped around her ribs; words died on her tongue.

“Take back what? Your [Fear]?” Ye Weibai asked.

“…,” Aerin bit down and lowered her head. Silence was consent.

“Aerin. Chin up. Look at me.” He held the uneasy girl’s eyes and spoke, slow and deliberate. “You think I gave you [Fear]? The only one who can give a person [Fear]—is herself. I merely reminded your body that you still have it.”

“I…” Her breath caught.

Under a cold gaze she’d never felt before, her heart hurt for no reason. Her hand flew to her left chest, as if to press the ache down. Worse than the look were his words—[Fear] had always been in her. That state wasn’t a gift. It was her. She was always that.

She… was someone that cruel. That cold. That merciless.

The thought made her tremble. Bile rose like a black tide.