[White Severance] 2

Renzo waited in silence, careful not to take another step forward. The small child stared at him, fear flickering in their strange eyes. After a few moments, they finally spoke—soft, cautious, and barely above a whisper.

"I'm Prism."

That was all.

'Prism?' The name echoed in Renzo's mind. That's an unusual name… I've never heard it before in my life. His thoughts churned as he studied the child more closely. Why would anyone name their kid... Prism? And more importantly—what is this kid doing here, in a place like this?

He considered searching the Blue Trade Records to confirm their identity, to pull up a Story Name—something to help. Is what I would've done... if the name wasn't so strange in the first place.

But [Last Note of Black] held back. He wanted to speak with Prism first, hear their story—not just read it.

"Ahm... may I ask what you're doing out here so late, Prism?" he asked gently. "You know it's dangerous at night, right?"

Prism nodded slowly, but didn't speak. Not a word.

"So..." Renzo continued, trying to bridge the silence, "is something wrong? Where are—"

He stopped himself. The question hung there for a second before fading unsaid.

If their parents were okay… Prism wouldn't be here.

"I... I don't have anywhere to go." Prism finally spoke, voice trembling like a brittle thread barely holding together.

Renzo's expression softened. "Ah, I see..." he said gently, stepping no closer. "Do you need help? It's not good for you to stay outside at night... Is there someone we can contact? If you don't have Cores, don't worry—I'll pay for everything."

Prism shook their head slowly.

"I have no one... and no place."

Renzo exhaled quietly, heart sinking just a little. "Okay, that's... umm... so... do—"

He trailed off, words failing him. This wasn't his field—he could fight monsters, slip past killers, and kill without being seen. But comforting a scared child? That was different. That was difficult.

"...Alright," he said finally, voice steady, "do you wanna come with me then so we can get you some help?"

Prism stared at him, wide-eyed, uncertain. Then came the question, hesitant but clear:

"Mister... are you... are you [Last Note of Black]?"

Renzo blinked, a little surprised by the recognition, but nodded. "Yeah, that's me."

Prism fell silent again, thinking. And then, after a pause that seemed to stretch longer than it was, they nodded back.

"Alright... I'll come with you."

Prism hesitated, their small frame still tense beneath the oversized black coat. In a quiet voice edged with caution, they asked, "Where will we go?"

Renzo answered without missing a beat. "To my house for the night. Tomorrow, we'll head to an Information Market. Don't worry, you don't have to say anything to me if you wanna keep everything a secret."

Prism stared at him for a moment, eyes unreadable. Then, slowly, they gave a nod.

If it had been anyone else offering help, Prism would've bolted into the shadows without looking back, heart pounding with panic. But this was Renzo. He was different.

The [Last Note of Black]—a Z Ranker. And not just any Z Ranker, but one of the few who walked alone and whose reputation had spread across the entire Story World. People knew who he was. More than that, they knew what kind of person he was.

In the Black District, that kind of reputation mattered.

There were no police stations here, no patrolling guards keeping the peace. The governing force—CEM Hunters—only intervened if a fight risked collapsing half the floor. Anything smaller? That was mercenary work.

And because of that, the Black District wasn't just a place ruled by shadows—it was a nest for mercenaries.

Renzo waited, patient and still, as Prism slowly stepped out from the shadows of the alleyway. He didn't rush them. He simply turned his back to the narrow space and took a step forward, giving them the space and silence they needed.

Prism looked up at him, eyes wary but searching. Then, almost imperceptibly, they reached out—and gently took his hand.

Renzo blinked, a little surprised at the gesture. But when he felt the trembling in their small fingers, he didn't hesitate. He tightened his grip, firm and steady, offering what quiet reassurance he could.

Without another word, the two continued walking side by side into the quiet, muted night—toward a modest apartment building, and the fragile safety of Renzo's home.

...

A small, dimly lit living room quietly hosted three figures. One sat alone on the only couch in the room—a sleek black piece of furniture—while the other two stood just inside the entrance of the apartment.

The one seated appeared to be a young woman, her black hair cut short in a formal, no-nonsense style. She wore black gloves and a long black jacket adorned with white roses, the coat falling nearly to her legs and left open to reveal a crisp white shirt and red tie beneath. Black pants completed the outfit, giving her the look of someone both sharp and deadly.

On her left cheek, a large X-shaped scar carved across her skin—an ancient wound, long healed but never forgotten. Her eyes were locked on one of the two newcomers with a mix of disbelief and irritation.

Standing by the door was Renzo, his hand gently clasping that of a small child beside him. The child had messy, short white hair, black horns curling out from their head, and skin a deep red tone. The whites of their eyes were yellow, their irises pitch black. Dressed in a black shirt and pants with a black coat draped over their small frame, the child—Prism—stood quietly at Renzo's side.

The woman narrowed her eyes, a spark of visible anger flashing through them as she pointed directly at the small child holding Renzo's hand.

"Who is that?"

Renzo rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, then motioned toward Prism.

"So... Uhhh... I found her."

For a moment, the woman stared at him with a blank expression, stunned into silence. Then she took a deep breath—slow and sharp—before speaking again, her voice tense. "You're either crazy… or you cheated on me. And if you cheated, I would've killed you already."

"Well… not technically speaking. Since, you know, I'm Z Rank, you're X... it's kinda impossible to—"

"Don't use logic against me!!!" she snapped, shouting over him before he could finish.

"Fine, fine, I won't…" Renzo quickly conceded, raising both hands in surrender. Then, gesturing once again at the child beside him, he added sheepishly, "Anyways, umm… here you go."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HERE YOU GO?!" she yelled, the sheer volume of her voice shaking the tension in the air.

Renzo's shoulders slumped as he let out a sigh, his fingers brushing the chin hidden beneath his mask. "Alright, I'll stop joking around… But first, can you calm down a little, love? Just a tiny amount… Okay? You're kinda scaring her, you know."

The woman's gaze shifted to Prism—and for a moment, her expression softened. The child was clutching tightly to Renzo's leg, trying to shrink behind him, eyes wide with fear.

Seeing that, the woman looked away with a quiet exhale, trying to settle her emotions. After a moment, she pointed at a few chairs off to the side and gave a small nod, motioning for Renzo and Prism to sit.

After the two sat down, Prism stayed very close to Renzo, still eyeing Shizu with a hint of fear flickering in her gaze. The woman glanced away, a little embarrassed by her earlier outburst. She took another deep breath, then turned back to face her husband.

"So... What happened?" she asked, her tone calmer now.

Renzo instinctively touched the back of his head again—a habit that had long since become second nature—as he replied, "Well, I met up with Lorcas and Arden at Mera's stall… It was… fun, but I'll leave the details for later. As for how I met up with Prism—"

"Her name is Prism?" Shizu interrupted, her eyes shifting toward the child.

Renzo nodded. "Yup. Umm, anyways, I was coming back home and on the way I saw someone scared, trying to hide away... Found out it's a child, spoke to her a bit, and then found out she's a girl named Prism."

"Alright, and?" Shizu pressed, leaning forward slightly as she pushed for more information.

Renzo glanced at Prism, then back at his wife. "Well… That's all I found out, basically. She hasn't said much."

"And you… just believed everything?" Shizu asked, her voice laced with suspicion.

"Yeah, why not? C'mon, do you really think anyone would stoop so low as to send a child as a trap?" Renzo replied—then paused, his brows furrowing. Before Shizu could even respond, he nodded to himself.

"Huh… Actually, they might really do that..."

He then shook his head slightly, brushing the thought aside. "But I don't think Prism is one… Right?"

The little girl sitting beside him nodded her head—just barely, but enough. Quiet, subtle, and almost fragile in how she moved.

Shizu still looked a little suspicious but softened her tone as she turned toward Prism. "Little girl, can you tell us a bit more about yourself? For instance, why are you here all alone? We want to help you, you know. But to do that, we need to know a little bit more about you."

Prism shrank further behind Renzo, her chair creaking softly as she clutched his arm tightly. She glanced up at Shizu, fear still lingering in her eyes as she whispered, "I'm Prism... A man brought me here and told me to stand where Mister [Last Note of Black] found me."

She hesitated, voice barely audible, "I... I don't have parents or any family. That's all."

Shizu pressed gently, "Can you tell us a bit more? Like, who was that man? Where did you live before coming here?"

Prism shook her head quickly, her voice trembling,

"Bad stuff will happen if I do."

That was all she could say.

Shizu couldn't help but chuckle softly—not to mock Prism, but because she found the situation a little amusing.

After all, she herself was an X Ranker, wielding an Original Story called [White Severance], and her husband was a Z Ranker—one of the top thirty strongest in the entire Story World: [Last Note of Black].

Very few people or Factions could pose a real threat to either of them.

Renzo cleared his throat softly and turned toward Prism. "Hey, Prism, no worries. We're here to help, okay? For tonight, how about I make you something delicious to eat, and then you get some rest? How does that sound?"

"Really, mister [Last Note of Black]? You'd do that for me?" Prism asked, disbelief shining in her eyes.

Renzo smiled behind his mask and nodded. "Yup, no worries—just leave it to me. Wanna help me cook?"

At the mention of cooking, Prism's eyes lit up with excitement. She nodded eagerly, her energy suddenly renewed as she stood from her chair. "I'm a great cook," she said proudly, turning to Renzo and waiting for him to stand as well.

Renzo and Shizu exchanged a glance, then both burst out laughing. Prism's pride wavered for a moment, "I… I really am, though!!" she insisted.

Renzo smiled softly, "Oh, no worries. I'm sure you are. It was just… cute how you said it, that's all."

Prism blushed, turning away shyly. But unlike humans whose cheeks flushed red, hers bloomed with violet circular marks—soft, glowing blushes that stood out vividly on her red skin.

Renzo found it quietly fascinating. He still wasn't sure what species Prism truly was.

She was obviously not human. At first, he had suspected she might be a Rashanz—a species known for their red skin and horns—but Rashanz had white horns, and their eyes were normal. Prism's eyes, however, were different; the whites of her eyes glowed yellow.

There were countless species in the Story World—Renzo could name over a hundred off the top of his head—but none matched Prism exactly. Only vague similarities, like those with the Rashanz.

Prism remained a mystery.

Renzo didn't make the little girl wait. With a gentle gesture, he led her to the kitchen. Prism followed eagerly, her steps light with excitement.

Shizu remained seated, watching the two from the couch in silence, arms crossed casually.

While observing them, she opened her pink Story System Interface—a faint shimmer of light spreading in front of her like a translucent screen. She began tapping through menus swiftly.

First, she typed Prism into the Blue Trade Records search bar.

No results.

Frowning slightly, she tilted her screen to the side, subtly angled it toward the girl, and discreetly took a picture without Prism noticing. She uploaded the image and ran another search.

Still nothing.

No matches. No known species. No registered story.

Shizu's brows furrowed just slightly. Whoever Prism was… she wasn't in the system.

She wondered, 'Hmmm, I guess it makes sense a little. She's a little girl, and only F Ranked. She does own an Original Story, which is impressive for her age, but nothing too noteworthy. I wonder... Is this her first time inside the Story World? For there to not be any information is a little weird for sure.'

Shizu shook her head slightly, brushing away the swirl of theories building up.

'Then there's the fact that her species isn't something I've seen or heard about before in the Story World. Is she from an undiscovered Fragment?' A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. 'If the [Traveler] were to learn of her existence, he'd beg her to reveal more info on herself and her Original Fragment.'

While Shizu silently pieced theories together, Prism stood on top of a chair in the kitchen, small hands braced confidently on the counter's edge as she reached for the cooking ingredients.

Renzo stood beside her, explaining the dish he planned to make for dinner. Prism nodded eagerly with a big, bright smile that reached her yellow eyes.

As the two began working—chopping meat and vegetables side by side—Prism suddenly looked up and asked, "Ummm… Mister [Last Note of Black]… Do you truly never take off your mask?"

Both Renzo and Shizu paused for a moment. Then, almost at the same time, they let out a small chuckle.

Shizu didn't reply; instead, she casually turned her attention back to her glowing pink Story System Interface, fingers tapping as she searched through a few more files.

Renzo responded with a gentle tone, "First, you can just call me Mister Renzo. No need to use my Story Name, alright?"

Prism nodded, eyes wide, clearly waiting for more.

"Well," Renzo continued, "I don't like taking off my mask much. But it's not like I never do. The number of people who've seen me without it, though? Tiny. Barely twenty or so across the entire Story World."

Prism's eyes widened as she let out a long, awed, "Oh!!!!" Then, without pressing further, she simply turned her attention back to the chopping board.

Renzo glanced down at her and watched in silence for a few seconds. He could tell—just by the way her hands hesitated slightly—that Prism really wanted to ask him to take off the mask... but she didn't.

He smiled behind it. That kind of self-restraint and quiet respect—especially from someone her age—didn't go unnoticed.

He then tilted his head slightly and asked, "Oh right—hey, Prism… What's your age?"

Prism looked up at him with a smile. "9!" she replied cheerfully.

"Hmmm, I see, I see…" Renzo nodded thoughtfully. Then, without missing a beat, he asked, "Were you born in the Story World, or did you just enter it?"

Prism's smile faded a little. She stared at him for a moment, and Renzo could immediately sense her hesitation. So he gently waved a hand and continued, "Alright, no need to answer that. Instead, let's start boiling the water already."

Prism glanced down at the counter, then looked up at him again with quiet eyes. "Thank you, Mister Renzo."

That was all she said—soft and simple—before turning back to focus on the cooking.

It didn't take the two that long to whip up something warm and delicious. The inviting aroma filled the small apartment kitchen. Shizu was eventually invited to join them—she took a seat beside her husband at the table.

Both Renzo and Prism watched with barely contained excitement as Shizu lifted her fork and tasted their collaborative dish.

After the first bite, she gave a small, thoughtful nod. Then came her verdict: "It's good… It's actually… Wow…" She paused, blinking in surprise. "Wait!!!! This gets better the more I chew it… Wow!"

Her reaction escalated from calm to nearly leaping from her chair in joy.

Renzo and Prism exchanged a glance, then broke into laughter and fist-pumped in celebration.

With the mood light and cheerful, the three of them dug in. For both Renzo and Shizu, this would be the second dinner of the day—but something about this one felt warmer.

Prism looked on as a small mouth appeared on Renzo's black mask, a human's. She felt creeped out by it but tried her best not to look too much.

...

After dinner, the dishes sat piled up in the sink, half-forgotten. Prism leaned back in her chair with a content sigh, her eyes heavier than before. She blinked slowly, fighting the drowsiness that always followed a good meal.

Renzo stood and gently patted her head. "Alright, little chef. Time for bed."

Prism rubbed one eye and nodded. "Okay…"

Shizu looked at Prism, then at her husband, "Take her to the guest room then." Renzo nodded in reply.

As Prism climbed down from her chair, she clutched onto Renzo's coat without saying a word. The tiredness had softened her fear—just a little—but she still moved carefully.

Renzo led her down the short hallway of the apartment. He opened a small door to a tidy room—simple, with clean white sheets and a warm, blue blanket folded on top.

"This'll be your room tonight," Renzo said gently, switching on the soft light. "You can take a shower if you want—there's a towel inside. Clothes might be a little big on you, but we'll make it work."

Prism stepped in and looked around, wide-eyed. Her tiny voice barely reached a whisper, "This looks so nice!!!"

She looked up at him, violet blush marks slowly reappearing. Then, after a pause, she took a step forward and gently hugged him.

Renzo froze for a moment—clearly not used to this—but then he slowly patted her back, unsure but sincere.

"...Thank you," Prism whispered.

He nodded, then turned toward the door. "Good night, Prism. I'll be outside if you need anything."

As he closed the door behind him, Shizu was already leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

Together, the two walked away from the room, leaving Prism to her quiet, newfound space—safe, if only for one night, in the home of two of the strongest people in the Story World.

...

Renzo sat on a black chair, his posture relaxed yet thoughtful. Across from him, Shizu rested on the black couch, one leg crossed over the other, her gaze steady as the low lights of the living room cast soft shadows across the space.

"What do you think of her?" Shizu asked, her tone calm but probing.

Renzo's gloved hand rose to his chin, his fingers brushing lightly against the smooth surface of the black mask still covering his face. As always, he hadn't taken it off—not even now. Shizu was used to it by this point. The mask only came off in the quiet hours, when they shared a bed and drifted to sleep.

"Well... I don't know," he said after a pause. "There are a lot of mysteries concerning her."

He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.

"Where did she come from? Who's the man who told her to wait in that alleyway? Why did she say bad stuff will happen if she tells us more... when it's obvious she knows I'm a Z Ranker?"

Shizu didn't reply right away. The silence between them lingered—not tense, but thick with the weight of unspoken thoughts.

Renzo's voice had held no certainty, only questions. And in the Story World, uncertainty was rare for someone of his rank.

Renzo exhaled softly, then shook his head. "I don't think the Information Market will help much to deal with her situation. You already looked her up in the Blue Trade Records and nothing showed up."

Shizu nodded, her expression pensive. "Even her picture didn't get any results. Same for describing her species—I only got Rashanz and a few others we already know about... but she's not one of them."

Renzo leaned back in his chair, the frame creaking slightly beneath him as he stared at the ceiling in thought. "What to do about her? We can't keep her with us."

Shizu nodded again, this time more slowly. "That... we can't. I'd like to... I really do... but..." She trailed off, sighing heavily, frustration tightening her brow.

Renzo glanced at her, then looked away, feeling the weight of guilt creep in. He had brought this topic up, but now seeing the look on her face made him quickly shift gears.

"I'll try asking [Owl] tomorrow," he offered, voice softer now. "Maybe he can help a little with the situation. Otherwise... we'll have to try and press her for more replies—but gently…"

Shizu gave him a flat stare. "Why are you looking at me like I'd be threatening her to reveal her origins?"

Renzo chuckled under his breath. "Just kidding. But yeah... we have to confirm she won't be in danger if we were to take her to an orphanage."

The room fell quiet again, the air tinged with uncertainty. Outside, the city lights of the Black District flickered like restless stars beyond the window, indifferent to the weight of decisions inside.

Shizu nodded, her eyes narrowing slightly as she considered the implications. "But to take her to one... we need to make sure it's the best orphanage in the Story World."

Renzo leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, voice calm but heavy. "Of course... but that... it's not easy to do that, is it now? It can't be one of the rich ones—or she'll be traced back to us. But to be on the cheaper side and good enough for kids..." He let out a quiet breath. "Yup."

Shizu sighed deeply, her fingers tapping lightly against the side of the couch, frustration humming beneath her composed exterior.

Renzo shook his head slightly, brushing a hand through his hair. "Welp, no use in thinking about it right now. Let's get some sleep and see what [Owl] offers us tomorrow. You head to the nearest Information Market and try to dig a little deeper—how does that sound?"

[White Severance], or Shizu in other words, nodded slowly. "Okay, let's do that then."

The two rose from their seats, the quiet padding of their footsteps echoing softly through the dim apartment as they headed toward their room. The hallway lights flickered once before dimming completely behind them.

Inside the bedroom, Shizu slipped into her sleeping attire—plain, dark, functional. Renzo followed suit, his pajamas as strangely elegant as the rest of him, white roses etched softly across the fabric like blooming shadows under moonlight.

He laid down, his head sinking into the pillow. The room was silent now.

He turned his head toward Shizu, watching her chest rise and fall in steady rhythm as she slept peacefully beside him.

Then, slowly, quietly, Renzo reached up and touched the black mask covering his face. With a soft click of release, he took it off.

For a long moment, he just laid there… staring up at the ceiling, silent.

Then, gently and slowly, he closed his eyes and let sleep take over.

The tension in his shoulders eased as the quiet hum of the night wrapped around him like a soft blanket. His breathing evened, matching the rhythm of Shizu's beside him.

It had been a few days since he'd had a proper night's rest—no alarms, no sudden emergencies, no thoughts racing in the background.

He hoped tonight... just tonight... he'd finally be able to do just that.

Sleep—deep, uninterrupted, and dreamless.

—End of Chapter.

-------

The Amazing Trio:

Renzo: Shizu, love, you gotta learn to be less grumpy, you know?

Shizu: No, I'll be as grumpy as I want, hmph.

Prism: But then, I'll be scared of you and never talk to you.

Shizu: Ugh... That... Tsk, fine, I'll try to, I guess.

Renzo: Wow... So let me get this straight... Your husband's opinion... Doesn't matter, but a little child's does???

Shizu: Not really, it's more that I know you'll talk to me either way, since you married me grumpy to begin with, but Prism won't if I stay like this.

Renzo: Fine, I was just trying to be dramatic, but thanks for ruining it I guess.

Shizu: Alright, you continue guessing, me, I'm adopting Prism.