The morning light slipped weakly into the kitchen, where Hina sat with a bowl of sugary cereal in front of her. Ivan slid it across the counter with a lopsided grin.
"Eat up. Training will drain you dry. Asim doesn't go easy on newcomers."
Hina picked at the cereal, chewing slowly under his watchful eyes. After a moment she asked quietly, "Aren't you going to eat too?"
Ivan chuckled, leaning back. "That would mean taking off the bandages." He paused, then added with a dismissive shrug, "Besides… I'm not much of a breakfast guy."
Hina frowned. Her gaze lingered on the endless layers of cloth wrapped around his face. "Why do you always wear them?"
His smile faltered. For once, the humor slipped from his voice.
"Some of us prefer to hide our sins."
The weight of his words settled heavy in the air. Hina wanted to ask more, but his distant tone warned her not to push. She lowered her eyes and focused on her cereal.
Later, at the apartment hallway, Ivan tapped the wall with casual confidence. "I promised to teach you something today," he said. "Try summoning a door to the Shadow HQ."
Hina blinked. "Huh?"
"It's simple," Ivan replied, though his grin betrayed the lie. "Focus on the place. Think of it, and the door will come."
Nodding, Hina placed her hand against the wall. She concentrated hard, waiting for something—anything.
Nothing.
Again, and again, faint voidlike sparks flickered and died against the surface. No door. No shadows. Only silence.
Her chest tightened with frustration. The sound of her own breath filled her ears, louder and louder.
Ivan only sighed. Shadows rippled outward beneath his hand, forming the door instantly. He stepped through without a word.
Hina followed, the silence pressing heavier than anything he could have said.
The tailor's shop smelled faintly of fabric and dye. The man behind the counter ducked down and returned with a folded outfit.
"Designed it myself. Try it in the room down the hall."
Hina slipped into the changing room. When she emerged, the fabric hugged her comfortably, flexible and light. She turned before the mirror, brushing her fingers across the smooth material, her lips parting slightly. For the first time in a long while, she liked the reflection staring back.
Her gaze caught on a subtle detail—embroidered on her shoulder, a delicate lotus flower. She touched it curiously. "What does this mean?"
The tailor followed her gaze, then gave a faint smile. "The lotus symbolizes rebirth. A soul renewed. I wasn't sure if you'd want it… but it felt right."
Hina's lips curved faintly, her voice soft but certain. "No. It's perfect."
The tailor nodded once, satisfied.
Ivan clapped his hands, breaking the quiet. "Perfect. Now let's hurry—Asim's patience is shorter than his temper."
Before they left, Ivan pressed something cold and heavy into her hand—a bracelet, forged of dark metal, inscribed with faint glowing runes that pulsed like a heartbeat.
"This isn't just jewelry," he said, his tone firmer than she'd ever heard it. "It's a key. It will always bring you home. To our apartment. No matter what happens, you won't be lost."
The seriousness in his voice rooted her in place. Hina nodded slowly, fastening it around her wrist. The metal felt alive against her skin.
"Don't lose it, Hina," Ivan said again, softer this time, almost like a plea. Then, with a flick of his hand, shadows opened once more.
They stepped out into a vast grassy expanse.
The world erupted around her.
Dozens—no, hundreds—trained across the endless field. Sparks of magic cracked the air, hissing like firecrackers. Blades clashed in a rhythm like thunder, the metallic ring vibrating through her chest. Shadows twisted into shapes she could barely comprehend—spears, beasts, wings—and then dissolved back into mist.
Groups sparred in coordinated chaos, their movements sharp and practiced, while lone figures drilled relentlessly, each swing carving scars into the ground.
The air itself felt alive, charged with power.
Hina's breath caught in her throat, her body frozen as she drank in the sight. For the first time, she understood: this was no schoolyard practice. This was war dressed in training clothes.
Her awe was broken only by the lone figure waiting ahead. Asim.
He stood surrounded by a neat array of weapons, sharp eyes narrowing as they approached.
"Took you long enough," he muttered, voice edged with annoyance.
"Tailor slowed us down," Ivan replied easily, nudging Hina forward. "Anyway, I'll leave her to you. Don't go too hard on her, Asim."
His tone was teasing, but before Hina could reply, a shadowy door opened beneath Ivan's feet. With a casual wave, he was gone.
Silence lingered as Hina and Asim faced one another for the first time, alone.
Her eyes met his. Something flickered behind his stoic expression—an odd sense of déjà vu—before he masked it with a sigh.
"Alright. Come with me."
He turned without looking back, fully expecting her to follow.