Everything Has Its Price

"Don't call me that."

Ru's voice was a snarl—raw, splintered, and shaking at the seams.

"Don't call me little king!"

He tore through the dark like a dying star, rage flaring in every atom of his being. The voice—the weight—the memories—

They clung to him like wet silk, suffocating and heavy.

But this time... he didn't drown.

He burned.

And then—

Thud.

A sound. Real. Rhythmic.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

His head jerked up. Cold tile bit into his knees. His breath came short and fast, fogging the air.

He blinked.

The bathroom.

Reality hit him like a slap.

There—

A single card lay on the ground, untouched by frost or flame. Solid. Real.

The Mod: Marionette of Dream.

No ghost. No brother.

There was only ink and silence.

Then—he saw it.

A jagged trail of shattered glass glinted under the flickering light, leading to—

Jasper's brush.