Chapter 25: Yan

“Did the Saint… ever show such an expression?”  

Rita was taken aback by Mikael’s unexpected reaction.  

His response was cold, almost ruthlessly human, a stark contrast to the Mikael from her past life who, with a pitiful expression, chose coexistence with Iskis.  

Was this the Saint’s true nature all along?  

Did his values shift midway in my past life?  

If a peaceful solution to this crisis emerged, what choice would he make?  

Rita wanted to ask but held back.  

The question itself could imply the possibility of coexistence, and the fear that Mikael might choose it silenced her.  

“Oh, by the way, Lady Rita,” Mikael said, shifting the topic.  

“I heard there’s been improvement with the Kuyan guest you brought.”  

“…What?”  

Rita’s eyes widened, her earlier thoughts vanishing.  

“I heard he can speak briefly now. Since we have a moment to rest, would you like to visit him?”  

The news about the boy—Mikael’s Shadow—lit up Rita’s eyes.  

Her curiosity about Mikael faded entirely, replaced by faint anticipation for the boy’s changed state.  

“Where is he now?”  

“I was heading that way. Come with me.”  

“This is the place,” a young priest accompanying them said, gesturing as he opened a white door.  

Beyond it lay a tidy room, a temporary residence arranged by the temple for the boy, staffed with skilled priests trained in mental healing, on standby 24/7.  

A faint, refreshing pine scent filled the air.  

To the left, on a red chair, sat a silver-haired boy, his refined appearance enhanced by the temple’s blue robes, which highlighted his striking beauty.  

Aside from looking more polished, he doesn’t seem much different…  

Rita tilted her head, eyeing the boy’s blinking purple eyes.  

As she stepped fully inside, making her presence known, he turned to her.  

“Ah.”  

With a short gasp, the boy’s hazy eyes sharpened instantly.  

Caught off guard by this unfamiliar gaze, Rita froze as he flashed a guileless smile.  

“You’re here, Master.”  

Rita’s eyes widened at the clear, resonant voice.  

The boy had spoken—awkwardly, but clearly, with a charming tone rivaling Mikael’s.  

Smiling in relief at his ability to communicate, Rita paused, realizing something.  

“Master?”  

Before she could process, the boy spread his arms and rushed to her, enveloping her in a hug.  

His childlike embrace flustered her; though they were similar in height, his larger frame made it awkward.  

Speechless, Rita couldn’t push him away and looked to Mikael in confusion.  

But Mikael was equally bewildered, turning stiffly to the priest who’d been caring for the boy.  

“Uh, well… he’s started talking, but…” the priest stammered, embarrassed.  

“From what we’ve observed over the past day, his mental state… it’s possible he’s been like this from the start.”  

The priest’s explanation—that no further treatment might be needed—made Rita’s eyes shake fiercely.  

The Saint’s Shadow is a fool?  

What kind of fool wields such strength?  

Or… could it be?  

Did he awaken to his senses upon meeting Mikael?  

Already confused by the lack of information about the Shadow, Rita grew even more perplexed.  

Frowning, she gently pried the boy off and started with the basics.  

“Do you… remember your name?”  

“Don’t know,” the boy replied with a bright smile.  

Rita pressed her forehead.  

His short, blunt responses lent weight to the priest’s theory.  

“Then… why are you calling me ‘Master’?”  

The boy tilted his head, then pointed at her.  

“Found me.”  

It took Rita a few seconds to grasp his meaning.  

Oh, right.  

I did find him.  

She nodded unwittingly.  

The priest quietly interjected, “Um, given he’s from the Kuyan tribe with this appearance and condition… could he have been a slave sold off and later returned to his village?”  

“A slave?” Rita asked.  

“Yes. There’s talk of mercenaries with good intentions rescuing Kuyan slaves and returning them…”  

It was an extreme guess but not entirely implausible.  

Though Lagos Kingdom had abolished slavery, non-human tribes like the Kuyan were still covertly enslaved.  

Rita frowned.  

Imagining the boy’s past gave her a headache.  

“That makes sense, but…”  

“I’ll give you two some privacy to talk,” Mikael said considerately.  

“Whatever you decide, the temple will care for him, so don’t worry about his future.”  

With the room cleared, Rita sat across from the boy at a table and corrected him.  

“Let me be clear: I’m not your master. My name is Rita. Call me Rita from now on.”  

After a brief silence, the boy nodded, but his expression seemed unenthused.  

To make matters worse, he began sucking his fingers like a child.  

Rita pressed her forehead again, doubting his ability to converse.  

Trying to stay gentle, she asked, “Do you remember where you lived?”  

Nibbling his fingertips, the boy nodded slowly.  

“Do you remember what happened there?”  

His eyes twitched slightly as he nodded again.  

“Death. Want to live.”  

His words were relatively clear, but Rita struggled to interpret them.  

Everyone died, but he wants to live?  

She groaned softly, unsure what to do with him.  

I brought him here thinking he’d grow into Mikael’s Shadow, but can he really fight in this state?  

It was a reasonable doubt.  

In her past life, given time, he’d become a formidable force, but…  

What if that doesn’t happen?  

What if my bringing him here has altered the timeline?  

The timeline already differed—ISKIS’s activity had shifted.  

Anxiety crept in as she sighed.  

In the worst case, I may have to abandon the Shadow as an asset.  

But she couldn’t neglect a boy she’d rescued just because he might be useless.  

That’s something only scum would do.  

Murmuring to herself, she promised,

“I’ll take responsibility for your future.  But I have much to do and can’t care for you now.  Stay here and get treatment for the time being.”  

Before she finished, the boy shook his head vigorously, stood, and clung to her, tugging her sleeve like a child.  

His nearly adult male frame made it overwhelming.  

Rita gently pushed him away, trying to understand.  

I’m the only one he knows.  

That’s probably why.  

Patiently, she explained,

“I’m sorry, but where I’m going is dangerous, full of the monsters that attacked your village.  You’re weak, so it’s safer here.”  

“Weak?”  

The boy tilted his head, floundering.  

Rita puzzled over his question.  

Is he asking if he’s weak, or does he not understand the word?  

Unable to decipher, she brushed it off.  

“Anyway, stay at the temple while I’m gone.”  

He dropped his head, looking dejected.  

Rita’s resolve wavered.  

“Do you understand?” she asked, cautiously stroking his silver hair with an awkward smile.  

He remained sullen, and she tried to soothe him.  

“I’ll be back soon. Just wait a little, and I’ll—”  

Muttering, she frowned.  

The boy was likely her age or younger, and calling him “you” felt odd.  

“We need a name to make things easier,” she said.  

The boy lifted his head, his innocent expression echoing the word “name.”  

Rita elaborated,

“You must have had a proper name. It’s inconvenient for me to keep calling you ‘you,’ and it’s probably the same for you. I can’t just pick a name for you, though.”  

Insisting she couldn’t tamper with someone’s name, Rita showed careful conviction.  

“So, take your time to remember—”  

“Yan,” the boy interjected abruptly.  

Startled by his bright smile, Rita echoed, “Yan…?”  

“Yan,” he repeated.  

“That’s your name?”  

“Yan.”  

He nodded, chanting it like a song.  

He’d just said he didn’t know his name, yet now he claimed “Yan” with certainty.  

Confused, Rita wondered, Did he make it up for my sake?  

But he doesn’t seem capable of that level of thought…  

A chill ran through her as doubts resurfaced.  

Something felt off, and the boy carried an undercurrent of suspicion.  

Can I really trust him?  

Did I make a mistake bringing him here?  

She stared at him silently.  

Whether he understood her gaze or not, he met it with his usual guileless smile.  

“Alright,” Rita sighed.  

Having a name was convenient, at least.  

“Yan, I’ll come back, so take care until then.”  

“Next?” he asked.  

“Yes. I’m going to hunt the monsters that attacked your village.”  

Patting his head awkwardly, Rita waved goodbye and left.  

As the door closed, Yan stared at it, murmuring, “Monsters.  

Master. Coming… must disappear.”  

His once-vacant purple eyes sharpened instantly.  

“Weak…?”  

Recalling Rita’s words, he gripped the chair’s armrest.  

The sturdy wooden armrest splintered under his grasp.  

Staring blankly at the thorns embedded in his pale palm, he watched them turn to ash and scatter.  

“Not weak,” he muttered, clutching the necklace around his neck.  

The yellow gemstone gleamed eerily, resembling Rita’s golden eyes.