As the two slept, the snow outside began to settle, the fierce storm finally surrendering to calm. The fog lifted, leaving the world outside the castle clearer but no less cold. Morning came quietly, with only faint light filtering through frost-lined windows.
She was the first to wake, her stomach growling softly in protest. Glancing at him, she noticed he was still deep in sleep, his expression unguarded for once. She didn't have the heart to wake him—he'd been through too much, and his rest seemed hard-won.
Instead, she laid back, staring at the cracked ceiling above, her thoughts drifting. After a moment, she shifted, brushing strands of brown hair from her face. Remembering her phone, she reached into her pocket.
As she moved, he stirred, shifting closer until his head rested just beside her. She froze for a second, watching him. There was a fragile peace to him in that moment, something she didn't want to disturb.
Turning her attention back to the phone, she powered it on, watching the screen flicker to life with agonizing slowness. Her lock screen appeared—a photo of her and someone she'd rather not think about. Her jaw tightened as old memories surfaced. She shook her head, muttering under her breath, "That's her problem now."
Swiping past the lock screen, she found herself staring at her home screen—a picture of a black cat with striking green eyes, framed by a chaotic grid of apps. The sight brought a faint smile to her lips, a small comfort.
The smile faded as she checked her signal: nothing. And her battery? Less than ten percent. With a sigh, she powered the phone down again, letting it drop onto her lap.
That's when his eyes fluttered open.
She glanced down at him. "Morning. Sleep well?"
He sat up slowly, rubbing his face with both hands, still half-asleep. "Apart from... the thing... yeah, kinda." His voice was lower and rougher than usual, catching her off guard.
"Whoa," she said, leaning back slightly. "Your morning voice is... something else." She stopped herself, a smirk tugging at her lips.
He raised an eyebrow but didn't respond, his own lips twitching as if suppressing a smile.
"Anyway," she continued, sitting up straighter. "We should figure out where they keep food in this place."
He blinked at her, his expression bemused. "You mean the kitchen?"
She huffed, crossing her arms. "Yes, that. Sorry for not being fluent in castle terminology. I thought it might have some fancy name or something."
A slow grin spread across his face. "Oh, pardon me, madame. I shall retrieve us some sustenance from the cookery at once, if that pleases you." He gave an exaggerated bow, his tone dripping with mock formality.
She stared at him with a deadpan expression. "I see you're feeling better."
He straightened, still grinning. "Let's just go."
Standing, she headed for the door while he retrieved his phone from his pocket. He paused, staring at the screen, his expression momentarily distant.
"You good?" she asked, her hand on the doorknob.
He shook his head quickly, snapping out of it. "Yeah, sorry. Just... thinking."
"Must've been one hell of a thought," she quipped, opening the door.
As he joined her in the hallway, something seemed to click in his mind. "Hey, give me your phone real quick."
She stopped, narrowing her eyes. "Why?"
He hesitated, his gaze shifting away. "Look, I don't want to go all the way back to get the charger we found. I can, uh, top it off for you."
Her suspicion deepened. "You're not using that power on my phone." She pulled it closer, her tone firm.
"I've already done it with mine, and it's fine," he insisted, holding out his phone as proof.
She examined it, noting the nearly full battery. Still skeptical, she crossed her arms. "Let's find food first. Then we'll see."
Turning, she walked ahead, his phone still in hand.
"Hey, I didn't say you could just take it!" he protested, jogging to catch up.
She ignored him, leading the way down the now-familiar hallway from the day before. He followed a few steps behind, his eyes wandering the ornate yet crumbling walls.
Then she stopped abruptly.
He nearly collided with her, catching himself at the last second. "What—"
She silenced him with a sharp look, pressing a finger to her lips. He frowned but nodded, closing his eyes to focus. Gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent way to feel if she moved.
The faint sound of footsteps reached them, echoing from somewhere deeper in the castle.
His eyes snapped open, and he gestured for her to follow as he pulled her into the nearest room. Once inside, he summoned a faint light in his palm. It flickered for a moment before solidifying into the shape of an axe, its edges glowing faintly.
"Think you can fight?" he asked, his tone calm but serious.
She raised her hand, summoning a translucent broadsword that shimmered faintly. Her expression was grim, but her smirk betrayed her intent. "I think I'll manage. At least I can let out some of this anger."
He nodded, tightening his grip on the axe. "Then let's hope they brought enough to handle us."
As the footsteps grew louder, the tension in the air thickened, the faint crackle of his weapon and the hum of hers the only sounds in the room.
The two held their breath, listening as the footsteps outside grew louder. They froze when the sound stopped—right in front of the door. Exchanging a tense glance, they nodded.
He opened the door swiftly, and she charged forward, her broadsword shimmering as it formed in her grasp. The blade arced through the air, deadly and deliberate—
Until she saw who it was.
Her attack stopped inches from its target. With a gasp, she diverted the swing, the blade clanging harmlessly against the floor before dissolving.
He stepped out behind her, his axe still glowing faintly, but recognition froze him mid-step. The man standing in the hallway was unmistakable: the black hair streaked with gray, the tattered scarf wrapped around his neck. It was him.
“You two...” The man’s voice was rough, disbelief written across his face. “Are you the only ones left?”
Her chest tightened at the question. Before she could respond, heavier footsteps echoed down the corridor. The man’s expression darkened, and he held up a hand, motioning for silence.
Without a word, he slipped into the room with them, brushing his hand along the far wall. A faint glow revealed a hidden passage, the stone shifting with a low rumble.
“Move,” he whispered.
They followed him into the narrow space, and the wall sealed itself behind them, cutting off the sound of footsteps.
When they emerged, they were inside a house—a small, weathered one that felt eerily familiar. The boy stiffened as his gaze swept the room, memories stirring in the back of his mind.
The man turned to face them, his voice quieter now. “What happened?”
The boy looked down, his hands trembling slightly as he tried to speak. She stepped closer, her hand brushing his arm in silent reassurance.
“Hel,” she said, the name slipping from her lips with careful control. “She’s responsible for... all of it.”
The man’s expression hardened. “I knew it,” he muttered, his fists clenching at his sides. “I told you that woman was trouble. But why? What could she have wanted with you two?”
The boy took a shaky breath, his voice quieter than before. “She wanted revenge. For a deal gone bad. One of our friends... he taunted her, pushed her too far. And now...” He trailed off, his hands curling into fists.
She looked at him sharply, her eyes warning him to stop.
The man studied them closely, his gaze lingering on their mismatched hair and eyes. “So you’re not—”
“We’re their alters,” she interrupted, her tone flat but resolute. “Not the originals. Just... what’s left.”
The man’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing more. Instead, he moved to the fridge, pulling it open. “You’ve been through hell,” he said gruffly. “You need food.”
He began pulling out whatever he could find, his movements brisk and purposeful.
She glanced at the boy, who stood by the window, his breath fogging the glass. She stepped closer, her voice gentle. “You hungry?”
He nodded absently, his eyes fixed on the falling snow outside.
The man glanced over his shoulder. “So, what’s your plan now?”
The boy stiffened, the question hanging heavily in the air. He turned to face the man, his expression unreadable. “Plan?” he echoed, his voice distant.
“We’re still figuring that out,” she said quickly, cutting off the silence.
The boy’s gaze drifted back to the window. The snow was lighter now, falling in delicate flakes that melted into the white landscape. His reflection stared back at him, fragmented and blurred.
"It’s over, isn’t it?" he whispered, almost to himself.
She stepped closer, her voice low. "Hel’s gone. It’s over. But what we do next... that’s up to us."
The man, oblivious to the weight of her words, set a pan on the stove. “You’re safe here, for now,” he said. “But if Hel’s still out there—”
“She’s not,” the boy interrupted, his tone sharp. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes dark with something unreadable.
The man frowned but didn’t press further. “Well, safe or not, you two need to eat. No point making plans on an empty stomach.”
The boy turned back to the window, his shoulders slumping slightly. "What now?" he murmured.
She rested a hand on his shoulder, her grip firm. "We survive. Together. That’s the plan for now."
The man busied himself with the meal, the sound of sizzling food filling the room. Outside, the snow continued to fall, quiet and unassuming—a stark contrast to the storm that had already passed.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiPjlvSfhqQ
