Chapter One: Fall
"God… please protect my child."
The voice trembled—fragile, desperate, clinging to something unseen.
"Use him… to fulfill Your will."
A pause.
"My child… survive."
Touka awoke with a violent gasp.
Air tore into his lungs as if he had been drowning. His body jerked upright beneath the shade of an old tree, sweat clinging to his skin, his chest rising and falling in uneven bursts.
For a moment, he didn't move.
Didn't think.
Didn't breathe properly.
Just… existed.
"Are you alright… Touka?"
Mary's voice came softly, but there was tension beneath it—fear she tried to hide but couldn't quite bury. She was watching him closely, her brows drawn together, eyes searching his face for something she didn't understand.
Touka didn't answer immediately.
His gaze was distant. Hollow. As if he had just returned from somewhere far away—and a part of him had stayed behind.
A small tug pulled at his sleeve.
"Dad…?"
He looked down.
Millim stood there, her tiny hands clutching his arm, her wide eyes filled with worry.
"Dad… are you okay?"
The world softened.
Just slightly.
Touka exhaled—slow, controlled, forcing the tension out of his body. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
"I'm fine."
The words were quiet. Barely there.
But for Millim, they were enough.
Her face lit up instantly, as though the weight in her chest had vanished.
"You fell asleep while I was dancing!" she said, already bouncing with excitement. "Let me show you again—okay?"
She stepped back, lifting her arms with exaggerated seriousness.
"I call this one…"
A pause.
She grinned.
"…Sparrow!"
Mary let out a small laugh, shaking her head.
"Come on, Touka," she teased. "She worked hard on this one."
Touka didn't respond.
But he didn't look away either.
He watched.
And for a fleeting moment—
There was peace.
Eight years passed.
The little girl who once danced beneath the trees had grown into something radiant.
Millim stood at the doorway, sunlight catching in her hair as she stretched lazily, her expression soft with the comfort of routine.
"Good morning, Dad."
Touka sat nearby, sharpening a blade with slow, deliberate movements.
"Hm."
That was all.
Millim pouted slightly, stepping closer.
"Dad… why don't you ever talk much?"
He didn't answer.
Didn't look up.
The sound of hurried footsteps broke the moment.
"Gooood morning, Touka! Millim!"
Mary came rushing toward them, her voice as lively as ever, her energy filling the quiet space without effort.
Millim smiled instantly.
"Big sis!"
Mary ruffled her hair as she passed, laughing—but as she brushed by a stranger near the path, something shifted.
A whisper.
Soft. Cold.
"No more delays."
Mary froze—just for a fraction of a second.
Then she kept walking.
Like nothing had happened.
Touka noticed.
His hand stilled.
His eyes narrowed slightly, tracking the stranger for a brief moment.
But he said nothing.
That evening, the sky dimmed into a quiet orange.
Mary leaned against the doorway, arms folded.
"Touka," she called casually, "can you get some meat for dinner?"
Touka stood without a word.
"Hm."
And left.
The village felt… wrong.
The moment his foot crossed into its boundary, something tightened in his chest.
Silence.
Not the peaceful kind.
The unnatural kind.
No chatter.
No footsteps.
No life.
Only the hollow echo of his own movements.
Touka slowed.
His senses sharpened.
The air itself felt heavy, pressing down against his skin.
A cold breeze slipped past him.
His instincts reacted instantly—tightening, coiling, sharpening like a blade drawn across stone.
Something was off.
Very off.
Then—
A scream.
It cut through the silence like a blade.
Raw.
Desperate.
Familiar.
"…Millim."
The name left his lips before he realized it.
And then he ran.
Not like a man.
Not like a father.
But like something chasing the last piece of its own existence.
He burst into the courtyard.
And the world stopped.
Millim was on the ground.
Pinned.
Surrounded.
Her small body trembling, her voice breaking as she struggled.
"D-dad… help…"
Something inside Touka snapped.
There was no hesitation.
No thought.
He moved.
Fast. Violent. Absolute.
The first man didn't even see it coming—his body lifted and thrown aside like nothing. Another followed. Then another.
Bones cracked.
Bodies fell.
Touka became a storm.
But storms can be stopped.
From the edges of the chaos, shadows emerged.
Cloaked figures.
Silent. Precise.
They moved in unison, their timing flawless.
Before Touka could reach her—
They grabbed him.
Locked him down.
Forced him to his knees.
"Let me go—! Let me—!!"
His voice tore from his throat, raw and desperate, but it didn't matter.
A calm voice answered him.
"You may continue."
Everything went cold.
The men didn't stop.
Millim's cries shattered into something broken.
Touka's struggle turned violent, feral—but the grip on him tightened, suffocating, unrelenting.
"STOP!!" he screamed, his voice cracking into something unrecognizable. "PLEASE—SHE'S JUST A CHILD!!"
Laughter echoed.
Soft.
Cruel.
And then—
She stepped forward.
Mary.
Touka froze.
For a second, he couldn't understand what he was seeing.
But her smile…
It wasn't the one he knew.
"So," she said lightly, tilting her head, "the great assassin can beg."
Her eyes gleamed with something cold.
"How sad."
"D-dad…!"
"Tch. Shut up."
Her foot slammed into Millim's stomach.
The impact knocked the air from her lungs. Blood spilled from her mouth as her body curled in pain, her trembling hand still reaching—still reaching—for Touka.
And that was it.
He broke.
Completely.
Footsteps approached.
Slow. Confident.
Familiar.
"It's been a while… Touka."
Touka's head snapped up.
"…Ren…?"
His voice trembled—not with fear, but with something far worse.
"You… you promised—!!"
Ren smiled.
A calm, almost amused smile.
"Oh, Touka… you really believed that?"
He stepped closer, his gaze steady.
"Nobody leaves the church."
Laughter rippled through the villagers.
"You were useful," Ren continued. "Until you grew soft."
His hand shot out, grabbing Millim by the hair.
She whimpered.
"D-dad…"
"DON'T TOUCH HER!!"
Ren ignored him.
"So we watched you," he said calmly. "And then… we found your weakness."
He raised his gun.
Simple.
Cold.
Final.
"Well then… thank you."
A pause.
"And goodbye."
The gunshot echoed.
Millim's body went still.
For a moment—
There was nothing.
Then she collapsed.
Lifeless.
Empty.
Gone.
Her body was dragged—then thrown over the cliff like it meant nothing.
Touka screamed.
Not like a human.
Not like anything that could be understood.
He tore free.
Pure force.
Pure rage.
He charged.
"REN—!!!"
Another gunshot.
His body jerked—but he didn't stop.
Didn't slow.
Didn't feel.
Mary intercepted him, slamming him down, striking him again and again.
Ren sighed.
"Why don't you do yourself a favor," he said, raising the gun again, "rest and be forgotten already?"
Two shots.
Touka's body faltered.
Ren walked forward, grabbing him.
Then—
threw him off the cliff.
"Rest now, Touka."
The world fell away.
Wind screamed past him.
His body dropped into darkness.
Far below, red spider lilies bloomed.
His vision blurred.
His mind fractured.
Everything told him to let go.
To accept it.
To die.
But something inside him refused.
A voice.
A feeling.
A command.
Survive.
Again.
Louder.
SURVIVE.
Touka's lips stretched.
Not into a smile.
But something broken.
Something wrong.
And then—
He hit the water.
Splash.
And in the depths below…
Something awakened.