The wind outside howled low, like a beast breathing just beyond the walls. The old hut creaked in protest under its weight, wooden planks shifting slightly as if they, too, were unsettled.
Inside, it was dark. The kind of darkness that clung to the walls like old cobwebs, thick and unmoving. The only source of light came from a tiny lantern in the corner of the room. A few dull embers still burned inside.casting a faint amber glow that pulsed like a dying heartbeat. It wasn't enough to see clearly—but just enough to know he wasn't alone in the dark.
Nyx lay on a broken bed, the wooden frame tilting slightly to one side. One leg had snapped at the joint, leaving the whole thing slanted like it might collapse under his weight at any moment. The mattress beneath him was barely more than a flattened cloth sack stuffed with brittle straw.
And yet… he was comfortable.
Too comfortable.
He opened his eyes slowly, blinking away the haze that clouded his vision. His chest rose and fell in steady rhythm. No tightness. No sharp pain. No blood. No bandages. Just… breath.
He blinked again.
Nothing hurt.
No bruises. No soreness. No stab wound.
He sat up abruptly, heart pounding. His hands roamed over his chest, his ribs, his stomach—nothing. Not even a scratch.
"What the hell?" he muttered aloud, his voice dry from sleep but confused.
The last thing he remembered…
A sword.
A flash of silver.
And then—
The girl in black.
Something gold.
His hand on her shoulder.
Then darkness.
But now? No pain. No blood. No wound.
Like none of it had ever happened.
"Love…" he whispered, uncertain, scanning the shadows. "Are you there?"
Silence wrapped the dim hut like a heavy blanket. Only the faint crackling from the chimney and the distant howl of wind broke the stillness.
Then, Nyx's voice shattered it all.
"Hey, bitch! Are you here?" he yelled in pure annoyance, sitting upright on the broken bed, his voice echoing against the wooden walls.
A sharp voice snapped back into his mind immediately, full of irritation and disbelief.
[Why are you screaming like a damn dog? I'm listening, you mutt. And why the hell are you calling me bitch?]
"Ah, so you're still here," Nyx muttered in relief, falling back onto the crooked bedframe with a soft creak.
His eyes swept the dark room, faint light from the chimney flickering against the cracked wooden walls. "Hey... where am I? And why the hell don't I have a wound on me?" he asked, this time his voice carrying a note of worry.
[Why the fuck would you have a wound?!]
Love yelled, her voice full of incredulous rage.
"Huh?" Nyx blinked. "Didn't I get stabbed right before I lost consciousness?"
There was a pause, and then Love answered with a huff of exasperation.
[When the hell did you get stabbed? You passed out from fear. That girl saved your sorry ass before the blade even touched you.]
Her tone turned accusatory, tinged with frustration.
Nyx blinked a few times, sitting up straighter. "Wait... so I didn't get stabbed? Hmm... well, that's good." He let out a breath of relief, scratching his head.
Love didn't let up.
[You goddamn mutt, you fainted like a little bitch. Scared stiff. I've never seen anyone go down like that without a single scratch. Pathetic.]
She said mockingly, her voice practically smirking inside his head.
Nyx groaned. "Keep quiet. And stop swearing so much, you bitch," he shot back with playful irritation.
A short silence followed—calm, but buzzing with unspoken tension.
Finally, Nyx asked, more serious now, "So… where am I? And where's that girl who saved me?"
Love's voice returned, flat and blunt.
[How the hell would I know where you are? She left you here on this busted bed and disappeared. That's all I know.]
She paused for a beat.
[And I don't know who she was.]
Nyx leaned his head back against the splintered wood, eyes squinting toward the chimney light above. "Oh, I'm sorry… I forgot how useless you are. My apologies," he said with an exaggerated sigh and a mischievous smirk.
Love let out an audible sound of offense.
[You little—no, I'm not arguing with you anymore.]
Love's voice returned, strained and sharp, as if she was doing her best to hold back her rising anger.
Nyx snorted and rolled his eyes. "So, who the hell were those assassins? And why the fuck would they want to kill a brain-dead, retard, brainless incest like me?" he yelled, throwing his hands in the air in frustration.
He sat up on the broken bed, its old frame groaning beneath him.
"And who was that girl? Why the hell did she save me and then toss me here—into this damn hut like a sack of trash?" he grumbled, eyes scanning the darkened corners of the room lit only by the chimney's flickering glow.
Silence followed, thick and lingering.
Then Nyx added with a mocking sigh, "Oh, right. I'm sorry again. I forgot how useless you are."
A beat.
[You dog—!]