Chapter 2 – Page 4: “Ghosts in the Fog”

The city of Drelis was not on any kingdom map.

It rose out of the forest like a scar—ugly, proud, and alive. Weather-worn towers leaned against one another like drunks, and crooked alleys twisted into a maze where thieves and kings shared the same shadows. Lanterns glowed blue instead of gold. Smoke from a dozen different fires layered the sky in a permanent haze.

The guards wore no uniforms. The currency was whatever you had that could bleed or burn.

Kuro led the trio in from the southern pass at dawn, his cloak hooded, his pace sharp. Yumi limped behind him, supported by Elenia. They drew little attention. Everyone here had something to hide.

“I’ve never seen a city like this,” Elenia whispered, eyes flicking from iron-plated windows to half-shuttered taverns. “It doesn’t feel like a city at all.”

“It’s not,” Kuro replied. “It’s a marketplace. And we’re merchandise if we’re not careful.”

They passed a wall of nailed posters—wanted sheets, scribbled in charcoal and magic ink. Half were burned. Some were bleeding.

None of their faces were there. Yet.

Not yet.

Kuro led them down a back alley that wound behind the fish market and into a narrow courtyard. A shutter above creaked open, then slammed shut.

A code. Someone was watching.

They stopped at a rusted steel door.

Kuro knocked three times. Then once. Then twice.

A small slot opened. A pair of yellow eyes peeked out.

“Password?” came a rasping voice.

Kuro leaned in. “The owl flies east.”

The eyes narrowed. “It’s dead winter.”

“It’s still flying.”

The slot slammed shut. A series of locks clicked open.

The door creaked. And Gorun, a short, hunched man with missing teeth and a half-metal jaw, stepped aside.

“Kuro Hayashi,” he hissed. “I thought you were a ghost.”

Kuro stepped in. “Maybe I am.”

Gorun looked past him to the women. “They ain’t ghosts. That one’s breathing like her ribs are broken.”

“She’s not for sale,” Kuro said, flat.

“I didn’t say she was.”

He grinned. It made his ruined mouth worse to look at.

Inside was a room filled with weapons, smoke, and secrets.

Mercenaries played cards in one corner. A dead man sat at a table in another, slumped over with no one seeming to mind. The air stank of pipe ash and old blood.

Gorun led them into a back chamber and closed the door.

“Why’re you here?” he asked.

“Quiet passage,” Kuro said. “New names. Clean papers.”

“That’s a high price.”

“I’ll pay.”

“You always do,” Gorun said, eyeing him. “But it’s not coin I want.”

Kuro’s silence was answer enough.

“Word is, the Kingdom’s been pulling old files,” Gorun went on. “Digging into the ghost registry. Looking for old assets. Your name came up.”

“It always does.”

“But this time,” Gorun whispered, “they’re offering gold. Not silence.”

Elenia stiffened. Yumi sat slowly in the corner, weak.

“I need three identities,” Kuro said. “And a route west.”

Gorun smirked. “I can do it. But they’re already here.”

Kuro’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

“Kenji Sato’s men,” Gorun said. “They came through yesterday. Asked about you by name.”

Kuro stepped forward. “Did you tell them anything?”

“I’m greedy,” Gorun grinned. “Not suicidal.”

Later that night, Kuro stood on the roof of the safehouse, watching the smoke drift over the edge of the slanted shingles.

Elenia joined him quietly, arms crossed against the chill.

“This place makes my skin itch,” she said.

“It should.”

“Is this where you lived before?”

“No,” he said. “This is where I disappeared.”

She leaned against the railing beside him. “You know they’re coming for us.”

“I know.”

“You’re planning something.”

“I always am.”

She looked at him for a long moment.

“You’re still trying to keep us at a distance.”

“I don’t get close to people.”

“You already are.”

That made him go still.

She stepped closer.

“You came back for Yumi. You carried her through the dark. You’re giving up your name—for us.”

He turned toward her. “I’m not doing it for you.”

“Then why are you shaking?”

He didn’t realize until she said it. But his hands… were trembling.

Inside, Yumi listened through the cracks in the door.

She didn’t speak. She didn’t smile.

But for the first time, she looked at Kuro like he was someone she couldn’t figure out. Not a monster. Not a friend.

Just… someone trying not to break.

Down below, in the alley behind the safehouse, three men in red cloaks arrived.

Kenji’s sigil was burned into their leather. One of them lit a flare, tossing it to the ground. The color flared blue.

A signal.

“They’re here,” one muttered.

A voice echoed from the alley entrance:
“Bring them out quietly. The assassin dies last.”

[End of Chapter 2 – Page 4]