The Boy Who Smiled at Fire, and It Obeyed

Someone once told him that fire only understands screaming.

But he smiled,

And proved them wrong.

For fire,

it seems,

Loves those who do not fear it.

---

Chapter Eleven – The Boy Who Smiled at Fire, and It Obeyed

---

I sat on the couch opposite him like a terrified prey before a tiger tamer. The first instinct screamed:

"Any mistake, and your soul will be taken without permission."

He glanced at me for a moment, then said in a tone more amused than threatening:

"I'll give you a chance for promotion... and I'll keep your secret."

As if he implicitly asked: And what will you offer in return?

So I replied immediately, in a voice lower than I expected:

"What do I do?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he let out a small sigh—more like a response to how trivial my question was.

Then he revealed a bit more of himself:

"I am Rakael. The Head of the Lord's Shadows. I've been assigned a mission... and I'd like to recruit you for it. Oh, and by the way… don't worry. The Lord, despite his young age, is shrewd. Don't fall into his web."

That sentence alone made me swallow hard. I listened to his words as if they came from beyond time, each carrying a hidden blade.

He continued, paying no mind to my discomfort:

"I'm going now with him to Laice Tavern. And I want you to investigate... a case—if it happens."

I stared at him, stunned.

"A case if it happens?"

I asked,

"Do you mean... my role is just to fake an investigation?"

He raised a finger to his lips and whispered, as if sealing all possibilities of argument:

"I need someone who doesn't speak."

I understood.

I understood the subtext.

The lord he works for has influence beyond the law.

And the mission? Secret to the bone.

Refusing wasn't an option—not just for my life's sake, but for… a chance.

But I didn't expect him. The marquis's son… in the Empress's palace itself.

He was more beautiful than they said,

And more distant than I imagined.

His golden hair danced in the breeze, and his eyes… silver like a storm over a lake.

But his face? Cold. Devoid of human life.

When Rakael greeted him, I felt my heartbeat slow.

That teenager?

Considered by Shira to be one of the Ancients?

Since when?

No matter. I'm here to do my job.

And in a moment, the scene slipped from my eyes to one that no longer belonged to me.

I was just a shadow in the tavern's corner, watching the truth unmask its mysterious face.

---

Ayanth descended with quick, graceful steps,

Accompanied by a young man in his twenties,

With short pink hair and red eyes that resembled embers frozen in ice.

The scene before them seemed calm… too calm.

Rerita was still standing behind Rakael, who sat sipping his glass as if nothing unusual had happened.

But the waiter… lay across the table,

A single knife piercing his chest,

Sunk deep into his heart.

The strange thing?

None of the tavern-goers showed any concern.

As if death here were merely a passing traveler.

Ayanth sat silently, while Rakael rose with a light bow and a mysterious smile, then knelt on one knee and said in a low voice:

"I'll erase the laws before you, and I won't disappoint you again. Just… let this one pass, my lord."

Ayanth didn't respond at first.

He simply looked at him for a moment before saying calmly:

"You're fine now."

Rakael's breath settled, but he didn't rise.

He remained kneeling,

As if the forgiveness he received was heavier than the sin.

From her angle, Rerita couldn't hide her surprise at his composure.

As for the pink-haired youth beside Ayanth, he appeared visibly stunned.

Suddenly, Ayanth interrupted with a tone of veiled sarcasm:

"What's wrong, Rakael? Get up. Anyone watching would think I'm bullying you."

Rakael sprang to his feet instantly.

"Don't mind them, my lord. Whoever dares say such a thing… I'll make sure no trace of them remains."

Rerita responded quickly, nervously rubbing the back of her neck under Rakael's piercing gaze that almost spoke:

Any slip... and your head will roll.

"Because you know no one would believe me... even if I spoke. And because you fully realize I don't have the strength to even think of confronting you."

Ayanth began tapping his finger on the table with a strange rhythm:

"Rerita, chief of the Grand District Security.

Witnessed a murder and stayed silent.

Turned a blind eye to noble crimes.

Signed forbidden deals at midnight."

With each charge, he pointed:

To the dead waiter…

To Rerita herself…

Then to the drunken men in the back.

Rerita trembled, despite already knowing everything he said.

As for Ayanth's companion, he looked even more bewildered.

Ayanth continued as if reading an irreversible verdict list, sipping his drink like offering time one last chance to retreat:

"Four violations.

Each one… leads to execution."

He smiled faintly,

Looked at her,

And said with a tone tinged with mischief:

"Would you like to be executed four times? Or prefer to simplify the matter?"

Rerita muttered, half in shock:

"Are you a cat... or a shadow that doesn't die?"

Then she lowered her head, whispering to herself in barely audible words:

"You weren't a trap… you were the pit itself."

With a small gesture from Ayanth—

as if closing the scene's final page—

it no longer existed.

He rewrote new lines on those papers, praising his Shadow Commander Rakael,

Preparing for the next scene,

Where two counterparts would meet for the first time.

---

Rakael approached with confident steps, slightly adjusting his jacket as if about to announce a theatrical show.

He extended his hand, saying with a cunning smile:

"Rakael, Head of the Dark Side. An honor to meet my righteous twin."

The other young man chuckled lightly and returned the handshake:

"Yardemil. I didn't think shadows could greet so politely."

Rakael replied with half-closed eyes, as if testing him:

"Nor did I think someone who smiles like that hides a dagger in his shoe."

They exchanged glances,

Then burst into light laughter,

As if an alliance had been fated to be born—

Without formal introductions.

Without further words,

Ayanth rose in one swift motion, brushing off his shirt gracefully

As if he forgot he was in the middle of a crime scene, and said in a tone both annoyed and playful:

"Let's leave. Eswar will bombard me with questions like my mother on result day."

Yardemil laughed as he followed him:

"Should I prepare him a report with illustrative drawings?"

Rakael chimed in with a wink:

"Or send him encrypted messages in the language of flowers… If we're going to die, let it be a classy death."

Ayanth looked at them and shook his head sarcastically:

"You're worse than the trap itself. Two laughing men, and I'm stuck between you like a pie in a wasps' picnic."

And so the pleasant conversation ended, and the curtain fell on the final page,

Painted in a color many would find beautiful.

With a small gesture from her hand,

Rerita removed the magical veil from the place,

Revealing the tavern's cracked walls and the drunken men swaying like ghosts of forgotten time.

Then Yardemil nodded,

And fire suddenly glowed from his hand,

Gently igniting the waiter's body,

As if it were a flame of peace, not destruction.

The flames began to creep into the wood and beams,

Drawing dancing shadows on the walls, like souls bidding farewell.

Everyone fell silent,

Watching the scene without a word,

Only flames dancing in the night's embrace.

The drunkards dropped their glasses and ran,

While Rerita slowly wrote in her notebook:

Accidental incident. No reliable witnesses.

Ayanth stood in the hallway,

Looking out between drifting smoke and flickering remnants of light,

Then whispered:

"Fire knows how to say goodbye… better than we do."

And the three left in silence,

Walking away from a fading blaze,

Leaving behind an inn collapsing quietly,

And embers bearing witness that the tale had only just begun.