Lili drifted—not asleep, not awake, but caught somewhere in the aching in-between. Time lost all meaning in that place. Seconds unraveled into hours, and some near, some distant voices were resurfacing around the fraying threads of her mind. She did not know where she was. She didn’t know when she was, either. There was only the feeling of something wrong and something. Every time she tried to lift her body out of the dark, it dragged her back.
And yet—she saw faces.
Two of them, always hovering just beyond the veil of her blurred vision. A man and a woman. They stood over her in flashes—sometimes speaking, sometimes just watching, like they were waiting for something they couldn’t name.
Her mind, fogged and fluttering, couldn’t place them. But her chest responded every time they came near. There was something familiar in the way the man stood, in the woman’s hands as they hovered above her.
They never said their names. But they said hers.
Lili. Not Death. Lili.
The voices sometimes tangled into arguments.
“She’s stable… but not for long.”
“We’re running out of time.”
“She was never supposed to—”
“We don’t have the right to decide that anymore.”
The words folded into silence, but the weight of them were heavy.
Then… another voice. One she did know.
“She’s holding on,” Notori said. “I told you. She’s stronger than you think.”
But still, her body refused her. She lay there—motionless beneath cool sheets, throat too dry to scream, hands at her sides. Her body was hers and not hers. She didn’t know if she was dying or transforming. Didn’t know which she feared more.
Someone brushed a cloth across her forehead—gentle, damp, and startlingly human. She felt her own name whispered again, low and almost mournful. You don’t have to fight alone, someone murmured. But she didn’t know if it was real… or just the voice of a fractured mind trying to comfort itself.
Sometimes she floated into warmth. Sometimes she sank into cold.
But always, the faces were there—those two strangers with eyes too sad to be strangers, watching her like she was a wound they couldn’t stitch.
She fell again. But this time, something changed. The darkness wasn’t empty—it held shape, held memory. And it was pulling her downward.
There was light behind her eyelids. Warmer than before. Brighter. Her breath hitched and lashes fluttered.
And voices, now closer, cut through the haze again:
“She’s waking,” Notori said, and this time she could feel how near he was. “Her pulse is stabilizing.”
“She’s not ready,” Man voice followed. “If she sees us now, it could undo everything.”
“We are part of everything,” Woman whispered back, her voice gentle but merciless. “You can’t keep hiding just because you’re scared of what she’ll remember.”
Footsteps. Too close. Too loud in her world of hush and heartbeats. She tried to speak. Only a breath escaped her.
“She’s trying to talk,” Notori said softly now. Then the weight of a hand settled on hers. “You’re safe, Death,” he murmured.
Death.
She flinched at it—barely, but it was there. That word didn’t fit anymore. It sat wrong in her chest. Like a borrowed name she was finally outgrowing.
“Why does she still burn?” Woman asked. “She should be healing.”
Lili opened her eyes.
Just for a second. The golden lamplight. The edge of Notori’s silhouette, lined with exhausted fire. And then—them. The two strangers standing at the foot of her bed watching her with eyes that ached.
And then—gone.
She blinked. Had they been there at all? Was it the fever? The dream? The memory?
***
The world came into focus too sudden for someone who had bled into the dark only days before. For a moment, she didn’t move. Didn’t speak. She just breathed.
She remained beneath the covers, letting the sunlight stream through the window in wide bands. Her fingers twitched once—then again.
But then—footsteps. Her eyes flicked sideways. Notori entered the room. His smirk betrayed him, tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“How long was I out?” she asked.
“You’ve missed a few sunrises,” he said, arms folding across his chest. “But looks like you’re finally catching up.”
“You did something.”
He didn’t flinch. “I said I’d help you stand again.” A pause. “I keep my promises. Even if you weren’t exactly in shape to read between the lines.”
Lili sat up slowly. “And the price?” she asked.
Notori’s shrug was too smooth. “We’ll talk about it later.”
Her jaw clenched.
“Peace is never free, Death.” The name hung between them, heavier than it had ever been. “But I figured you’d want a few hours of it before deciding what kind of war you’re waking into.”
She should have let it roll off her. But she didn’t. Because something in that line didn’t feel casual. Her spine straightened. Her fingers curled into the linen beneath her. Her breath, once calm, now hitched on the edge of awareness. “You’re not talking about the war,” she said slowly. “You’re talking about which side I should fight for.”
“You already chose,” he finally responded. “The moment you let me carry you from that street. To them,” he added, “you’re no longer the weapon they owned. And no matter what you do next, they’ll only see the choice you already made.”
Lili’s breath drew tight, and not from the pain of healing. From the truth she had tried—desperately—to bury beneath rage and duty. “So that’s it?” she whispered. “Trade one leash for another? Burn the old ties and chain myself to the next promise someone makes me?”
Notori stepped closer. “I’m not offering you a leash,” he said. “I’m offering a choice.” His gaze didn’t waver.
Her eyes dropped to her now steady hands. Still bloodstained. Still worn from the war she hadn’t yet admitted she’d lost.
She whispered, barely audible: “I don’t know if I can be anything without the mask.”
Notori didn’t try to convince her. He didn’t offer comfort. He just said, quietly—honestly:
“Then keep it. Just don’t let it wear you.”
Lili didn’t speak. Her gaze was fixed on nothing, and yet not empty. There was something shifting beneath the stillness.
And then—another pair of footsteps. Notori turned first, his shoulders tensing as the door eased open. Two figures stepped into the light.
Colin entered first. His eyes landed on Lili—half-sitting, half-collapsing into the bed—and his stare didn’t soften. It weighed her. Astonia followed beside him. Her gaze was full of sadness and longing.
Lili’s body resisted the movement, but she pushed herself straighter anyway. Her eyes full of defiance and disbelief locked on theirs. “I don’t know how, but I know you,” she said.
Colin stepped to the foot of the bed with the arms crossed on his chest. “You should’ve known us a long time ago,” he said. “But that would’ve required a different life than the one you chose.”
Astonia’s head turned slightly to the Colin with a flicker of the warning.
Lili’s breath hitched, once. “I didn’t choose anything,” she said through clenched teeth. “I survived what I was given.”
Colin’s mouth drew into a thin, unforgiving line. “And look what you became.”
Before the heat could rise further, Notori stepped between them. “Enough,” he said calmly, but with weight. “She’s still recovering.”
Astonia moved, her fingertips grazing the bed’s edge. “You don’t have to remember us,” she finally spoke with the voice soft enough to tremble. “But we’ve always remembered you.”
Lili’s breath caught. She looked between them, and mix of grief, fury, confusion cracked behind her eyes.
And then—she laughed. Her laugh was jagged, joyless, splintered around the edges. Her shoulders shook with it, her head bowing low, shaking like someone caught between revelation and madness.
“I’ve heard about you,” she spat finally. “I was warned. Told you were looking for me.” Her voice dropped—bitter now, too cold to be merely angry. “Told you were here to kill me.”
As the words fell from her lips, the temperature in the room changed. Her eyes, once deep and dark, bled into red.
Astonia’s posture shifted, fingers curling reflexively against her side. Colin’s eyes narrowed with recognition that cut both ways.
“She has your eyes,” Astonia murmured to Colin without looking at him.
Lili saw the way they looked at her now—with calculation and caution.
“See it now, don’t you?” she whispered while her red gaze locked on Colin. “You’re scared of what I’ve become.”
Colin didn’t move. “I’m not scared of you,” he said.
Lili tilted her head slowly. “No?” she whispered coldly. “Then what is it, father? Disgust?”
Colin didn’t answer. But before the silence could collapse into something worse, Astonia stepped closer again. “It’s not that simple.”
“No,” she said. “It never is.” Lili agreed with the sharp and bitter smile on her face.
She turned her face away while trying to steady her wild breath. But the storm inside her was no longer sleeping.
Daggers started to spun around Astonia, each one slicing a ribbon of sunlight, scattering fractured gleams across the walls. “I heard you have my powers too,” Astonia said softly.
Lili didn’t blink. She leaned back against the pillows amused and detached. “You know,” she began, “I understand now… why the rumors started. That you wanted me dead.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it cut. Her eyes swept across the space—paused, ever so slightly, too long—on Colin. Measured him like a wound she refused to let scar. “Heroes, weren’t you?” she added. “Hard to stomach, isn’t it? That your little legacy turned into a monster. A murderer. One of them.”
Astonia didn’t flinch, but Colin’s jaw tightened, sealing everything he would not say.
Lili tilted her head, mockingly delicate. “So tell me,” she murmured, “Did you even hesitated? Or were you sure like a man relieved to be rid of the proof he’d failed?”
“That’s enough,” Colin snapped.
Lili shifted upright. “Struck a nerve?” she hissed, red eyes flashing brighter. “Or is this the ending you always dreamed of? Me, shattered. Powerless. Bleeding in bed while you finally get to come in, clean the mess, and pretend it wasn’t yours to begin with?”
“Lili,” came tight Notori’s voice. “Stop.”
“I must really be a disappointment,” she said, eyes never leaving Colin. “Not a hero. Just the Princess of Death. That’s all I ever was. That’s all I’ll ever be. Maybe—”
Next words weren’t spoken. Colin moved fast. Before anyone could react, the syringe touched her neck. Lili froze.
“You—” she gasped, eyes wide, as red flickered and dimmed. Then her body sagged.
Lili’s head fell back against the pillow. Her lids dropped. And for the first time in days, silence reclaimed her.
Colin stood over her, unmoving, the empty syringe still in his grip. There was something brittle in the quiet between his ribs. “We don’t need her mouth running,” he said.
Notori didn’t argue. But he looked at Lili with a weight in his chest he couldn’t name—something heavier than guilt.
Astonia pulled the blanket higher over Lili’s shoulder—gentle, careful, trembling.
Colin turned away, walked to the window, and let the light hide whatever crack had begun to split inside him. Notori remained at the bedside, watching Lili disappear into sleep again. But this time… he didn’t know who she’d be when she woke.
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