"Don't cry…
It's okay, honey…
I'm here."
Her voice rang with comfort. Through my tears, I saw her smile.
That's not right.
Why am I crying?
Why does she seem so far away?
"Mom…?" I whispered.
"It's okay, Leih…
I'm here…
They can't hurt you…"
She spoke again. Her voice felt so soft, so comforting — so warm.
Where am I?
Why am I crying?
"Where are you, Mom…? Where… where are we?"
I asked again, but the only thing that surrounded me was darkness, stretching for endless miles.
"Mom…" My voice grew more desperate — more afraid.
"Honey… be strong… for Mom."
Then — a bang.
I jolted awake. My forehead bumped against the table as my hands, which had been shielding my head, fell to my chest.
"Ow…" I hissed.
As I looked around, the steady hum of conversations filled the campus café — a comforting background noise I had learned to appreciate.
I sat at a corner table, fingers lightly tracing the rim of my coffee cup, my eyes flickering between the rain-splattered window and the open textbook in front of me.
I sighed.
The familiar scene grounded me — a gentle reminder that I was okay.
I was nowhere near anything that could hurt me.
Outside, students hurried across the quadrangle, heads bowed against the drizzle, and I allowed myself to sink deeper into the cushion of the chair.
Nineteen years old.
Freshman.
Biology major.
Just a girl trying to blend into the chaotic rhythm of university life.
If anyone looked my way, they'd see just that:
a quiet, dark brown-haired student, lost in thought.
But I knew better. I'm nothing normal. I'm a killer born from another killer.
At 3, I was already being trained to shoot.
At 8, I was assigned my first target.
At 13, I had already moved up the ranks of my previous organization.
At 16, I had already made a name for myself — the "Blue Butterfly," as they called me.
But now… now I'm nineteen.
And I strive for something different. A normal identity that I can belong to. One that doesn't demand I destroy every relationship I touch or threaten the lives of those closest to me. A life that can form roots. A life that doesn't feel like it's constantly on the verge of falling apart.
I closed my eyes for a second, leaning back into the chair, the weight of the world pressing against my chest. The "Blue Butterfly" was a title I couldn't outrun. The face that followed it — the one etched into the memories of those I left behind — was a face I couldn't forget. Even in my dreams, I'm haunted by that life.
That fucking miserable life. That face who's seen too much. Who had done too much. I could erase everything else, but the blood — that would never leave me.
A soft thud broke my thoughts. My coffee cup had tipped over, spilling liquid across the table. I cursed under my breath and grabbed a napkin, trying to soak up the mess.
I wiped up the spilled coffee. A mixture of a bit of pain and something darker bubbled up inside me. A force I couldn't control, one I had learned to suppress but never truly mastered.
Yes.
In a world with gifted humans,
I am one of the unlucky ones who got to experience the pain of having a mutated gene.
My mother passed that blood onto me, and unfortunately, I survived birth with it.
I turned into a monster the moment I could walk.
I can do things that are inhumane, things that turned me into a weapon.
A weapon I didn't ask to be.
The flash of a smile, the flicker of wings — the memories haunted me. A laugh, too, twisted and sharp, the sound of metal scraping against metal. I could still hear the orders, still feel the cold weight of the blade in my hand. Every task, every kill… they were just whispers now, but they felt like echoes from another life — a life I couldn't escape.
Thankfully, I turned my back on that life. I turned away, and left everything and everyone. Even the things that I didn't want to leave behind.
My mind drifted back to the present. The café suddenly turned still. My trained senses suddenly activated. Years of rigorous training kicked in, and the cautious me flipped its on switch.
The door opened, and a glint of amusement flickered through me. A person entered the café, probably a student. He had his zip-up jacket on, and his hood up. I would have assumed that he was here for a casual cup of coffee if not for the glint of a badge in his collar. That very familiar glint of a silver rectangular badge that I had grown wary of.
This person is an agent. One from Aetherium.
And he is from Silver Creed — the second-highest rank.
During the first years that I left Aetherium, I would have panicked by now. Given that this agent was probably here to spy on me, or to hunt me down, the old reflex would have kicked in — fight or flight, adrenaline spiking, muscles tensing. But now… I just smiled.
An amused smirk played at the corners of my lips. A little too warily, maybe. I noticed the agent's eyes dart toward me as he shuffled to pay for his coffee. His hands were a bit too shaky for someone of his rank — silver badge, second-highest, but he was still a rookie in my book. He dropped a few bills when he tried to pull out his wallet, and I couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle under my breath.
'Such a clumsy newbie,' I thought to myself before taking another sip of my coffee, letting the warm liquid coat my tongue.
I kept my gaze on him as he hurried to fix his mistake, trying to act casual, but his eyes lingered on me for just a second too long. His face flickered with something — recognition? But then it was gone, replaced by the neutral mask of a professional.
The door creaked softly as he left, glancing over his shoulder just once, just enough to make me wonder if he was going to call someone. Report something. I don't know. But I didn't care. He wasn't here for me, not yet. Not unless he was sent to finish a job I left behind. And that wasn't his style. Aetherium didn't like to tie up loose ends — too messy. They preferred to let things slip away, to fade into silence.
I leaned back into my chair, eyes still trained on the door as it swung shut behind him. The sound of his footsteps faded into the rain, but the feeling he left — that lingered. Like a shadow I couldn't outrun.
I had spent years trying to build a life here, to bury everything that came before. Every time I thought I was free, every time I thought I had finally outrun Aetherium's reach, something like this happened. A reminder that I'm never far enough. That they always find a way to get to me.
I wiped the table with a napkin, the watermarks of spilled coffee already drying, and looked out the window. The drizzle had turned into a downpour, and the students outside scurried along, heads bent low to shield themselves from the rain.
I tried to tell myself that I was just another student. That I wasn't the monster they had made me, but the longer I stayed here, the more I realized that pretending didn't make it true.
That agent hadn't even made a move, but I felt the weight of him pressing against me, just as heavy as the memories I'd tried to bury.
My phone buzzed, pulling me from my thoughts. A message. I unlocked it, fingers moving automatically.
A call came, and I answered it.
"Where the hell are you—" Athena's voice rang out, before being overtalked by another voice.
"Yuriiii, you said five minutes! It's almost an hour nowww!" Astrid's voice shrilled.
I smiled slightly before answering, "Alright. I'm coming home."
That's right.
I have a home now.
I have friends. I have a life. A normal life.