mio_4909

One quiet night in Shanghai, Haoran found a strange cigarette on the wet pavement. Its edges were darkened, but it wasn’t burnt. A thin, silvery mist curled from it, almost like it was alive.

Curious, he lit it and took a slow drag.

The taste was bitter, metallic wrong. A sharp pain spread through his chest, like fire and ice fighting inside him. He coughed hard, but the smoke didn’t leave. Instead, it thickened, twisting into the air like living shadows.

Then, from the swirling smoke, something took shape, a tall figure with glowing ember eyes and skin made of shifting ash. Its voice was deep and heavy, like burning coal.

“You have awakened me,” it said. “Now, your fate is sealed.”

Haoran’s hands shook, the cigarette still between his fingers. He thought he had just found an old cigarette. Instead, he had inhaled something far more dangerous.

Ashen Host

Months passed and Haoran finally let the spirit lead him.

At first, he wasn't sure. He told himself he wasn't a killer. But the spirit changed him. It made him sharper, gave him something strange, a way to sense people's energy. Some people felt heavy, like they carried something rotten inside them. The spirit called it corruption.

Haoran didn't know if that was true.

A man stood outside a bar, smoking. Tattoos covered his arms, and a scar ran down his cheek. Haoran could tell he was trouble. The type of guy who hurt people, who thought no one could touch him.

The man took a deep drag of his cigarette.

And just like that, the man choked. His cigarette fell from his lips as his body shook. His hands grabbed at his throat, his eyes wide in shock. He couldn't breathe. It was like the smoke had turned against him.

Thirty seconds. That's all it took.

By the time the body hit the ground, he came back to himself.

Haoran turned down an alley and saw a woman struggling. A man had her by the wrist, pulling her deeper into the dark. She tried to break free, but he was too strong.

He let the spirit do its work. The man froze, his body stiff. His breath stopped. His skin turned pale as his life drained away.

The woman ran, never seeing the shadow that saved her.

Some days, they went after thieves.

A pickpocket slipping wallets from people on the street. A masked man breaking into a store, grabbing as much cash as he could.

Haoran found them. Stopped them. Made them disappear.

No police. No reports. No missing person flyers.

Security cameras showed only shadows, flickering, blurry shapes, like tricks of the light. Nobody talked about the people who vanished.

Haoran knew what he was doing was wrong but he needed money to survive.

Every time they took a wallet, there was enough money to eat, to keep the lights on, to buy clothes so he didn't look like someone barely getting by.

Corruption