VOL. 2: CHAPTER 24 — “THE BOY WHO SMELLED LIKE NOTHING, RUMOURS OF A HERO, AND WHISPERS OF AN ANOMALY”

There was a difference.

Peaceful silence was soft.
Natural. Alive.
This one?
This one felt… managed.
Contained.

Like the city held its breath even while sleeping.
Like if it exhaled too loudly, someone would punish it.

From the guild dorm balcony, I leaned over the railing and stared down at the capital streets below.

Holy lamps burned in perfectly measured intervals, casting identical circles of white-gold light across the stone roads. Patrol routes crossed each other like clockwork mechanisms — white cloaks marching in precise lines.
Left. Turn. Pause. Repeat.
Never early. Never late.

Even their footsteps sounded rehearsed.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
Like a metronome.
Like a heartbeat that wasn’t human.
Even the stars felt distant here.
Like the sky itself didn’t want to linger above the Empire too long.
Order.
Everything here worshipped order.
Even the silence marched in formation.

“Tch…”

I rested my chin on my palm and sniffed the air out of habit.
Stone. Smoke. Oil. Metal. Human sweat.
Cooked bread from some late-night stall.
Normal. Safe. Boring.
But underneath all of it—There was still that faint smell stuck in my nose.
Blood. Dust. Burned mana.
And something else.

Something I couldn’t name.
Something from earlier.
From the quarry.
From him.

Kai.
Or…Kairen.
Or whatever his real name was.

Names felt weird around him.
Like none of them fit.
Like you could call him anything and it still wouldn’t be right.
Like names slid off him.
Like he wasn’t meant to be labeled in the first place.

Most people have a scent.
Every beastkin knows this.
It’s instinct.
You can tell what someone feels just by breathing.

Fear smells sharp.
Sweat smells sour.
Mana smells warm and electric.
Even mages have tells — ozone, herbs, ink, old parchment.
Life has weight.
Existence has a smell.
Proof that something is there.

But him?
Nothing.
Not “clean.”
Not “neutral.”
Just—Nothing.

Like sniffing air inside an empty cave.
Like standing on a cliff where even the wind refuses to blow.
Like staring into a hole so deep it swallowed sound.
Like something had been cut out of reality.

The first time I noticed it…Wasn’t the quarry.
Wasn’t the battlefield.
It was the guild.

Guild Memory. Crowded hall.
Sweaty adventurers.
Ale sloshing.
Leather. Steel. Ink. Paper.
Noise everywhere.
Too many smells stacked together.
Normal.

Then—
He walked past me.
Close enough that our shoulders almost brushed.
And my nose caught…Nothing.

Not even skin.
Not even cloth.
It was like my senses slipped.
Like there was a gap where he should’ve been.
I remember blinking.
Actually checking if my nose was broken.
Because that wasn’t normal.

Even corpses smell like something.
But him?
No heartbeat scent.
No mana warmth.
No life.

Just—
Absence.
Like a hole shaped exactly like a boy.

And that was before I even knew his name.
Before Chorona stared at him.
Before Ryn tried to befriend him.
Before everything got weird.
Somehow…That made it worse.

“…Creepy,” I muttered.

I’ve known Chorona for two years.
Met her when I first came to the capital.
Quiet girl. Black hair. Too polite. Too kind.
The type who apologizes when you bump into her.

Humans stared too much at beastkin.
So we stuck together.
She was…Safe.
Warm.
Like a tiny lantern you cup your hands around in the dark.

Then a year later—
We met Ryn.
Idiot with a sword too big for his brain.
Smiling at everything.
Helping everyone.
Trips over air.
Laughs too loud.
The kind of guy who says “don’t worry!” right before something explodes.

Somehow we just…Became a party.
No destiny. No drama.
Just three lonely people orbiting the same table until it felt normal.
Ordinary. Safe.

Then Kai showed up.
And the air changed.

Quarry Memory.
I replayed it again.
Couldn’t help it.
The way the villagers died.
Folded. Crushed. Erased.

I’d seen death before.
Beast attacks. Bandits. Old warfields.
But that thing?
That wasn’t killing.
It was deleting.
Like a mistake being corrected.

And when it happened—
He didn’t hesitate.
Not even a little.
No panic. No fear. No shouting.

Just—
Move. Save. Kill.
Efficient. Precise. Cold.
Like he wasn’t a boy.
Like he was a tool someone forgot to put away.

His face didn’t change.
His eyes didn’t shake.
Didn’t even look angry.
He just erased.

Like stepping on an ant.
Like breathing.
Like killing was as normal as walking.

And honestly?
That scared me more than the monster did.
Because monsters are supposed to be monsters.
But humans?
Humans aren’t supposed to look that calm.

But then—
Something didn’t match.
Didn’t fit.
Didn’t make sense.

He saved them.
He kept saving them.
Over. And over. And over.
All of them.
He didn’t have to.
We all knew it.
We all knew it, it was stupid.

If we focused the creature, it would’ve died faster.
Safer. Cleaner.
But he kept running toward the civilians.
Over. And over.

Even when it slowed the fight.
Even when it meant taking hits.
Even when it was stupid.
Even when it was dangerous.

He still went.
Every time someone screamed—
He moved first.
Like it wasn’t a choice.
Like his body moved before his brain.
Like saving people was instinct.

Like—
Like he didn’t know how not to.

“…What the hell are you…” I whispered.

Cold enough to erase monsters.
Soft enough to risk your life for strangers.
That combination shouldn’t exist.
People were one or the other.
Never both.

Ryn.
I snorted. “…Idiot.”

That guy was worse.
Or better.
Can’t tell.

He didn’t think.
He just went.
And when that thing speared him through the side…
And he still tried to stand…
Still tried to swing…
Still shouted for us to run…
Something twisted in my chest.

Because that’s not stupidity.
That’s…Hero crap.
The annoying kind.
The kind that dies first.
The kind everyone remembers.
The kind people follow without realizing.

“…Damn it,” I muttered.

He’s going to get himself killed someday.
And I’ll probably be there trying to save him.
Stupid.

Chorona……
She’s weirder.
Way weirder.

I know her habits.
So when something changes—
I notice.

Around Kai—
She changes.
Stands closer.
Walks half a step behind him.
Like guarding his blind spot.
Like she’s done it a thousand times.

She flinches before he gets hurt.
Panics when he disappears.
Watches him when he isn’t looking.

Not like a crush.
Not like love.
Something heavier.
Older.
Like grief.
Like relief.
Like finding something you thought you lost years ago.
Even though they just met.

And then—
She said his real name.
Kai.
Not Kairen.
Not Nacht
Kai.

Like it slipped out naturally.
Like muscle memory.
Like she’d said it for years, thousand of times before.

And—
The way she froze after...
Like she broke a rule she didn't know existed...

Yeah.
That wasn’t normal.
None of this was normal.
And the worst part?
When they stand next to each other—
His “nothing” smell gets stronger.

Like the world bends around both of them.
Like reality doesn’t know where to place them.
Like they don’t belong here.Together.
Or maybe—
They belong too much.
Like puzzle pieces from a different box.

“…You two are bad news,” I muttered to the night.

Not evil. Not dangerous.
Just…
The kind of people disasters follow.
I exhaled slowly.
Looked up at the moon.

“…Still…” My tail flicked lazily.
“…Guess I’ll stick around.”

Because—
Cold void boy.
Time-broken girl.
Idiot hero.
And me.

Somehow—
It felt right.
Like this was where I was supposed to be.
Even if it kills us.

“…Don’t die, idiots,” I whispered.
Mostly to myself.

Across the courtyard—
On the opposite balcony—
Kai sat alone.

Back against the wall.
Looking at nothing.
Not sleeping.
Not moving.
Just staring into the dark like it was staring him back.
Like he was already halfway gone.
Like a hollow shell.
Like a boy made of silence.
Like—
Nothing.

And for some reason…
That scared me more than any monster ever could.



— CIVILIAN POV: Morning Market, Capital of Valenheim Empire —

The morning bells rang.
Three slow.
Seven sharp.
The Emperor’s hour.
The entire street paused.

Not dramatically. Not fearfully.
Just automatically.
Like a reflex.

Merchants lowered their heads mid-transaction. Children stopped chasing each other. Even the stray dogs flattened their ears and lay down.

Then the final chime faded.
And the city resumed.
Not waking. Not stretching. Activating.

Stalls unfolded in synchronized rhythm. Knives scraped whetstones. Boots struck stone in even tempo. Holy lamps dimmed exactly three degrees as sunlight reached regulation brightness.

Order.

Everything here followed a script.

Even conversation.

“Did you hear?”
“Hear what?”
“That quarry contract out near Westridge Village?”
“The disappearances?”

“Yeah. Some rookie party cleared it.”

The butcher stopped cutting.

Blade hovering.

“Rookies? Don’t joke.”
“Dead serious. Four of ’em.”

“Four?”
“Human kid with a big sword. Wolfkin girl. Quiet black-haired mage. And some gloomy lightning guy.”

“…Lightning guy?”

The butcher made a slicing gesture.

Fast. Clean.

“—gone.”

“…Gone how?”

“…Gone gone.”

Silence. Heavy.
Nobody wanted to finish that sentence.

Finally someone muttered:

“…Empire’s been weird lately. Too many strange people showing up.”

“Don’t say that. Patrols’ll hear.”

“Guild hiding something, you think?”

“Guild always hides something.”
“Maybe one of those anomaly the priests talk ab—”

“Shut up.”

“…Right. Sorry.”

The topic died instantly.
Because in Valenheim—

You don’t discuss uncertainty.

You bury it.

But rumors didn’t need permission.
They spread anyway.
Like smoke. Like disease. Like fate.

— KAI’S POV —

Guild mornings weren’t loud.
They were industrial.
Not noise.
Throughput.
Chairs scraping.
Armor clinking.

Clerks calling numbers like executioners reading names.
Accept quest. Complete quest.
Return alive or don’t.
Replaceable either way.
Even “freedom” here felt systemized.

“…Efficient,” I muttered.

Lyka snorted beside me.
"That’s the nicest thing you’ve said about this city.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s praise.”

The quarry incident had spread.
Not officially. Not in reports.
But adventurers didn’t need ink.
They traded rumors like currency.

“…F-rank team…”
“…no corpse…”
“…just gone…”

Eyes slid toward us.
Then away.
Too fast. Too careful.
Fear disguised as curiosity.

Good.
Fear keeps distance.
Distance keeps secrets.

Then—
BAM.

Ryn slammed both hands on the table.
“GUYS.”

“…What,” I said flatly.

“I think I accidentally became a hero.”

Silence.

Lyka blinked. “…You hit your head again?”

“No! Listen!”
He yanked up his shirt dramatically.
“No wound!”

I checked.
Clean. Completely healed.
Yesterday he’d been impaled.
That should’ve taken weeks.
“…Amara.”

『Passive regeneration detected. Non-standard. Unique Skill probability: extremely high.』

Of course.
Of course it’s him.
The idiot who runs into danger first.
The one Fate would choose.
Heroes aren’t rewarded.
They’re selected.

“…Skill name?” Lyka asked.

He coughed. “…It’s kinda cringe.”

“Say it.”

“…Unique Skill: Chosen Hero of Fate.”

Lyka exploded laughing. “NO WAY—”

“SHUT UP—”

“…Subskills?” I asked.

“Uh… weapon stuff… light stuff… healing… stronger when mad… and something about Fate helping me cheat?”

“…Plot armor,” Lyka said.

“IT’S NOT—”

“It literally is.”

Chorona smiled softly. “That’s very like you, Ryn.”

“…Huh?”

“You always protect people first.”

He scratched his head, embarrassed.
“…I just don’t like watching people get hurt.”

Yeah.
Exactly why Fate grabbed you.
Easy to steer. Easy to sacrifice.
I didn’t say it.
Let him keep smiling.
Heroes who know they’re heroes die faster.

He grabbed a fork. “Watch this—”

Light flickered.
For half a second—
The cheap metal felt heavy.
Sharper.

Like a relic blade.

Then—
Back to trash.

“…That was supposed to be cooler.”

Lyka wheezed. “Legendary utensil class.”

“…I hate you.”

Good.
Keep joking.
Stay normal.
Stay human.


— GUILD FLOOR POV —

Two men stood near the quest board.
Too clean. Too still.
White gloves. Silver insignia.
Imperial observers.

Not adventurers. Not clerks.
Analysts. Recording.

One wrote notes every time someone said “quarry.”
Every time someone glanced at our table.
Every time my name came up.
Fast.
Valenheim wastes no time labeling variables.

— CHORONA’S POV —

They’re watching him.

More today.
Yesterday whispers.
Today paperwork.

Tomorrow…
Something worse.

My spoon stopped mid-stir.
The tea froze.
No ripple. No sound. No motion.

Just—
Paused.

Then resumed.
Like nothing happened.
My chest tightened.
Again.
These little gaps.

Like time forgets me.
Like reality blinks.
I don’t tell anyone.

Because if I speak it aloud—
Something fragile might break.

And I don’t want anything breaking near him.
Not again—
…Again?
Why did I think that?



— KAI’S POV —

“The Masked Death came back yesterday.”
“…Blade Oak?”
“…solo subjugation…”
“…S-rank…”
“…disaster-class…”

The name moved through the guild like cold air.
Veterans quieted.
The Masked Death.
Blade Oak.
Strongest adventurer alive.

My stomach twisted.
Like déjà vu.
Like recognizing a song I never learned.

“…Weird.”

『Emotional fluctuation detected.』

“…Nothing.”

Probably nothing.
Still didn’t like it.

— PARTY TABLE —

Ryn kept testing random objects.
Fork. Knife. Chair leg.
At one point he enchanted a mug.
It shattered.

Lyka nearly fell laughing.
“STOP TURNING FURNITURE INTO ARTIFACTS—”

“I’M NOT TRYING—”

Chorona covered her mouth, giggling quietly.
For a second—
It almost felt normal.
Like we weren’t being measured.
Like the world wasn’t tightening.
Moments like this are dangerous.
They make you forget.
Forgetting gets people killed.

— IMPERIAL SIDE POV —

• Civilian mage
• Unknown human (Kairen Nacht)
• Newly awakened Unique user (Ryn)

He circled Kai's name twice.
 “…Monitor.”

Not suspicion.
Not yet.
Just interest.
Interest is worse.
Interest means you’re next.

— KAI's POV (INTERNAL) —

Lyka smirked. “With you around? Always.”

“…Fair enough.”

We laughed.
But somewhere—
Something watched.

Not human.
Not divine.

Just—
Calculating.
Waiting.
Like destiny itself had started paying attention.

And when Fate starts watching—
Someone always dies.