2

"Fifty gold." The carriage owner's voice was gruff, dismissive. But his eyes shifted, trailing past Nine to Aya, who stood rigid behind him. His lips curled into a knowing smirk. "For each of you. That makes it a hundred."

Aya stiffened. A hundred gold? That was wealth only nobles could toss around.

Nine, however, clapped slowly, the sharp sound punctuating the stillness. His grin was easy, playful, but his amber eyes gleamed with something sharper. "What... a visionary businessman," he mused.

The man shrugged, unimpressed.

"You're saving space for others, right?" Nine tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. "How about I just cradle her the whole way? Fifty gold for one seat." He spread his fingers in a careless gesture, his tone light—though the edge beneath it was unmistakable.

The man rolled his eyes. "You're lucky I don't put a knife through your mouth for that tone."

He turned to leave, but Nine caught the hem of his robe, grip tightening. His grin faded. "Please, mister." His voice dropped low, urgent. "We just need to cross the border."

The man yanked his robe free with a sharp tug and shoved Nine back. Nine stumbled but caught himself with a fluid step, his expression unreadable.

"Then find another way," the man spat. "Think there are other carriages around? They've all gone. I'm the last one, and I'm here to make money. If you don't have it, then f*** off."

Nine straightened, exhaling through his nose. He raised a hand, a subtle wave—wordless, but Aya understood: Stay back.

The teasing lilt in his voice vanished. His posture shifted, predatory.

"I tried to do this the peaceful way," he murmured, running a hand through his dark hair.

Before Aya could process his words, Nine moved.

A flash of silver—swift, precise.

SCHKAK.

The blade sank deep. Flesh tore. Bone cracked. The tip of the dagger burst through the man's mouth, crimson dripping from its edge. His body seized, then crumpled. No scream. No final gasp. Just silence.

Aya inhaled sharply, her pulse hammering.

"N-Nine?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Nine exhaled, flicking his sleeve over his face to wipe away the stray droplets of blood. He turned to her, smiling apologetically. Scratched the back of his head. "Ah, sorry you had to see that, Aya."

Her breath stilled.

The boy she had grown up with—the one who stole apples from market stalls and laughed in the summer rain—stood over a corpse, his dagger embedded in a man's skull. No hesitation. No remorse.

This isn't his first time, she realized, a chill running down her spine.

Her legs trembled. A part of her screamed to run, but she couldn't move.

Nine tilted his head, eyes assessing her. When she took a step back, he noticed but said nothing. Instead, he knelt, yanking the blade free with a wet, sickening squelch.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, voice light, as if discussing the weather.

Aya swallowed, hard.

"It must've shocked you," Nine continued. "But that man was a scumbag anyway."

She didn't—couldn't—respond. Not until Nine pushed the carriage door open.

Aya's breath caught. Inside, a woman's lifeless body sprawled across the wooden floor, her torn clothes scattered around her like wilted petals. Blood dried in dark streaks along her bare skin.

Her stomach churned.

"He raped his female passengers," Nine said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Didn't even bother to clean up."

Aya's horror turned into something colder. A reluctant understanding.

Nine rubbed his temple, sighing as if the entire situation was an inconvenience.

"We should bury her," Aya murmured, her voice barely steady.

Nine blinked, then shrugged. "Sure."

They worked in silence, digging beneath a lone tree, wrapping the woman's remains in a spare cloak. The man's corpse, however, went into the fire. Flames crackled, devouring the body until all that remained was blackened bone and smoldering cloth.

Aya watched Nine's face through the flickering light. He didn't flinch. Didn't look away. Just stared, detached, as if watching a candle burn down to its wick.

They set off at dusk. Aya sat inside the carriage while Nine took the reins. The wooden wheels groaned against the dirt road, the rhythm steady, unbroken.

After a while, the carriage slowed, then halted. Nine climbed inside, tossing her a loaf of bread.

"Here. Eat."

Aya hesitated, staring at the offering.

Nine raised a brow. "What? You want meat instead?" He tore off a piece with his teeth, chewing lazily as he waited.

"...Are you really sure about this?" Aya finally asked, her voice quiet.

Nine paused mid-bite. "Sure about what?"

"About joining the battle." She met his gaze.

For the first time that night, his expression hardened.

"Aya." His tone was steady. Final.

She pressed on. "I just... I don't want to see you throw yourself into a war that—"

"This world is beyond saving," he interrupted, voice calm but resolute. He shifted closer, his presence a quiet storm. "Sooner or later, we'll die. Maybe one of us. Maybe both."

Aya flinched, but he reached out, gently unfolding her hand. He placed a strip of beef jerky in her palm, his touch lingering for a fraction too long.

"You used to want to be a mom," he mused.

Aya flushed. "That was when we were kids! I just... I wanted to give what I never had."

Nine chuckled, though his eyes remained serious. "Dreams like that don't survive in a world like this," he murmured. "Humanity's losing. But I won't. If the gods have abandoned us, I'll take their place. I'll become one of the sins. A stepping stone, Aya. To create something better."

Her fingers curled around the jerky, torn between disbelief and the unshakable pull of his conviction.

"Trust me," Nine said, his grin returning, easy and dangerous all at once.

And despite everything—the blood, the fire, the cold certainty in his voice—Aya found herself nodding.

Because she did trust him.

Because she always had.

"What can I do?" she asked, forcing a small smile. "I can't change your mind."

Nine grinned, leaning back. "If I become a lord, we'll build our family. Together."

Aya choked. "W-we're still young!" She smacked his arm with the jerky.

Nine burst out laughing, the sharpness in his expression softening, if only for a moment.

For now, they had this.

But deep down, Aya knew—Nine was already drifting beyond her reach.