Pov Author
Night settled over the broken realm like a held breath.
The destruction from the day before had not fully faded. Cracks still scarred the stone paths, faint traces of corrupted energy lingering in the air like the memory of a scream. Lanterns glowed softly along the corridors of the temporary stronghold Kiyoshi had raised—light meant to calm, to restore balance.
It did none of that for Anna.
She sat alone in her room, knees drawn close to her chest, staring at nothing.
Every time she closed her eyes, the same moments replayed.
The way the sky had split open.
The sound of Renji's voice, sharp and accusing.
The pressure of Shou Feng's power when he stepped forward.
And his words.
She is mine.
Anna pressed her fingers into her palms, grounding herself in the ache.
She didn't understand why those words refused to fade.
It wasn't love. She knew that. Love didn't feel like this—tight and unsettled, like standing too close to an edge you hadn't noticed before. Love didn't make your chest hurt in confusion.
What she felt was something else.
Shock.
Displacement.
The terrifying realization that someone impossibly powerful had noticed her existence—and claimed it out loud.
She had seen him fight.
Not just fight—erase.
He had destroyed his master. His maker. A god.
For her.
Anna exhaled slowly, forcing her thoughts back into order.
'You don't know why, she told herself. You're assuming.'
He could have done it for strategy. Pride. Anger. Maybe she was just a convenient excuse.
But then there was the way he had stood in front of her.
The way he hadn't looked back.
'Stay behind me.'
Not a plea.
Not a promise.
A certainty.
Her throat tightened.
Anna leaned her head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling. She wasn't stupid. She knew dangerous men. She knew obsession when she saw it.
And she knew that whatever this was—it wasn't safe.
Still…
A question burned at the back of her mind, refusing to be ignored.
''Why did you say it?''
Across the compound, in a room untouched by incense or warmth, Shou Feng stood in silence.
The shadows obeyed him here. They pressed close, heavy and familiar, like an old cloak he couldn't remove. He stared at the floor, jaw clenched, hands at his sides.
Mine.
The word echoed again, unwanted and relentless.
He scoffed under his breath.
"Idiot."
He hadn't planned it. That was the part that infuriated him. It had torn itself out of him in front of Renji, raw and instinctive, like a territorial strike.
A mistake.
He paced once, then stopped, fists tightening.
He had erased Kazan.
That truth sat heavy in his chest.
Kazan—the architect of his suffering. The god who had broken him down and reforged him into a weapon. The chain he had carried for centuries.
Gone.
And for what?
Shou Feng dragged a hand through his hair, teeth grinding. "We're even," he muttered to the empty room. "That's all."
She freed him.
He saved her.
Balanced.
Clean.
So why did the memory of her standing behind him refuse to leave?
Her small figure, healer's light flickering defiantly in a realm that wanted to swallow her whole. The way she hadn't screamed. The way she hadn't run.
Why had that mattered?
He straightened abruptly.
"I am not in love," he said aloud, voice sharp, as if daring the shadows to challenge him.
They didn't.
"She's reckless. Weak. A distraction," he continued, listing the words like facts. "A brat from a fragile world."
His chest tightened.
He scowled, annoyed at the sensation. "I said it because it worked," he added. "Because Renji backed off."
That explanation should have been enough.
It wasn't.
A soft knock interrupted the silence.
Shou Feng's head snapped up.
Before he could speak, the paper door slid open.
Anna stood there.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
The air between them felt charged, like the pause before a storm. Lantern light from the corridor framed her figure, catching in her brown hair, softening the sharp lines of exhaustion on her face.
She hesitated, then stepped inside.
"What do you want," Shou Feng asked, his tone already cold.
Anna flinched—but only slightly.
"Yesterday," she said. Her voice was quiet, controlled. "I keep thinking about it."
He turned away from her, facing the wall. "Then stop."
She didn't.
"You said something," she continued. "In front of Renji."
Silence stretched.
"I know it was a fight," she said quickly, as if afraid he would cut her off. "I know words can be tactics. But you didn't say it like a tactic."
"No," he said sharply. "Enough."
She took a step forward. "I need to understand."
That did it.
He turned on her, eyes dark and irritated. "Understand what?"
"Why," she said simply.
The word hung between them.
"Why you came for me. Why you said those words. Why you—"
"So we'd be even," he snapped.
Anna froze.
His gaze hardened, sharpening deliberately. "You freed me. I removed a threat. That's how this works."
Her chest tightened painfully.
"That's all?" she asked.
"That's all," he said flatly.
She studied his face, searching for cracks. For hesitation. For anything that contradicted his words.
There was nothing.
"Do you like me?" she asked suddenly.
The question was bare. Unarmored.
His laugh was immediate—and cruel.
"Like you?" he repeated. "Don't be ridiculous."
He stepped closer, invading her space, his shadow swallowing her light. "Have you even looked at yourself?"
The words struck like a slap.
"You're fragile," he continued, voice cutting. "Stubborn. Always in the way. You think a few dramatic words mean something?"
Anna's throat burned.
"I don't have feelings for you," he said, each word deliberate. "Not affection. Not desire. Not anything worth naming."
The silence afterward was suffocating.
Anna felt something crack—not loudly, not cleanly. Just enough to hurt.
She straightened slowly, refusing to let him see it.
"Then don't say things like that," she said, her voice steady despite the ache. "They don't mean nothing."
She turned and walked out.
The door slid shut.
Shou Feng didn't move.
The moment she was gone, the room felt wrong.
Too empty.
He exhaled sharply, clenching his fists. "Good," he muttered. "She'll stay away now."
But the word returned anyway.
Mine.
And this time, it didn't sound like a mistake.
It sounded like a problem.
To be continued...