Chapter 14: Ash

Orlando carried the white-haired girl to the corner deep in the alley, set her down, and propped her against the wall.

The moment he let go, a sharp pain shot through his wrist.

“Ehhh——”

He looked down and saw that the white-haired girl was biting his wrist, refusing to let go.

Her red pupils were half-open, her gaze unfocused—she was clearly not fully conscious.

Her white eyelashes fluttered, and she let out an indistinct mumble.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Orlando tried to pull his hand back.

She bit down harder.

Those two rows of teeth felt like small animal traps, sinking into his skin.

Warm liquid trickled down his wrist.

“I already have a partner, you know.”

He shook his hand, and the girl’s head wobbled with the motion, but her mouth remained locked tight.

The voice of the God of Love rang in his mind, tinged with amusement.

“Orlando, she seems to be from the Dark Night Clan.”

“…No way.”

Orlando frowned.

He stared at her pale little face for a few seconds.

White hair.

Red pupils.

A face so delicate it didn’t look human.

And—he glanced at the sharp teeth revealed by her slightly parted lips—the two canine teeth digging into his wrist were clearly longer than normal.

“The Dark Night Clan can’t appear in human cities.”

As a species considered abnormal by humans, a member of the Dark Night Clan couldn’t possibly show up alone in a human city, let alone a little girl.

Even as he said it, his voice lacked certainty.

There was a brief silence in his mind.

The God of Love probably thought such an obvious fact needed no refutation.

Orlando stared at the girl for another three seconds.

Her white hair was spread across the black cloak, making her face look even paler.

A trace of his blood stained her lips, vivid red under the moonlight.

Her breathing was shallow, the rise and fall of her chest so slight it was almost invisible.

“…Alright.”

He sighed.

“Whether I want to believe it or not, I have to.”

He propped his elbows on his knees, keeping his other hand in the bitten position.

“What are you going to do?”

The God of Love’s tone remained light, as if she had found something interesting.

“First, I’ll bandage her up. Then I need to find out who’s pulling the strings.”

“Fair enough.”

Orlando used his other hand to pinch the girl’s chin.

It didn’t budge.

He applied more force.

Still no give.

“What kind of bite force is this…”

He took a deep breath, used both hands, and finally pried her little mouth off his wrist.

Two neat rows of teeth marks were left on his wrist, with a few small holes oozing blood.

“Hurts that much when biting? Definitely the Dark Night Clan, no doubt.”

He turned the girl’s body slightly to check the arrow wound on her back.

The arrowhead hadn’t gone too deep.

The bleeding was minimal.

Lucky—it hadn’t hit any vital spots.

Orlando tore a strip from the bottom of his shirt, folded it into a thick pad, and pressed it against the wound.

His movements weren’t gentle, but they were efficient.

The girl felt as light as a rag doll in his hands, her shoulder bones digging into his palms.

“So thin.”

He wrapped the cloth strip around her shoulder and under her arm to secure it.

“Is the assassin business really that unprofitable?”

Halfway through the bandaging, the girl let out another whimper.

She burrowed her head into his chest.

“…Don’t move.”

The girl ignored him.

She kept burrowing.

Probably mistaking his body heat for something like a heater.

Her white hair rubbed against his clothes with a faint rustling sound.

Her forehead pressed against his chest, cold as a stone just pulled from a well.

Orlando was about to tie the last knot.

A voice came from behind him.

“This gentleman, let me take over from here.”

Orlando’s fingers froze.

He didn’t turn around immediately.

First, he finished tying the cloth, making sure the bandage was secure.

Then he slowly stood up.

And turned around.

At the mouth of the alley stood a young man.

Half black hair, half white hair, split straight down the middle with a crisp line.

It looked like someone had measured it with a ruler, cut it with a knife, and perfectly divided it in two.

The black side was as dark as ink, the white side as pale as snow.

His features were handsome.

His expression was gentle.

He wore a well-tailored dark long coat, with subtle embroidered patterns at the collar and cuffs, looking like a butler or head steward from some noble household.

But that wasn’t what caught Orlando’s attention.

What he noticed was—when this guy walked up, he hadn’t heard a thing.

Two years of vigilance cultivated by the Silver Dragon Queen.

Ears sharp enough to detect a cat colleague sneaking up to his desk.

Yet he hadn’t caught this person’s footsteps.

Orlando stood up, blocking the girl.

His right hand hung at his side, only three fingers away from the wooden sword at his waist.

The sword wasn’t sharpened, but it could break bones if swung at someone.

He didn’t reach for the hilt.

He just kept his hand at that distance.

“Who are you to her?”

Orlando studied the other’s eyes.

Heterochromia.

One gold, one red.

“Or—”

His voice was calm, even a bit lazy.

“Were you the one who shot that arrow?”

The young man with split-colored hair smiled slightly.

The smile was perfect—the corners of his lips curved to just the right angle, neither too much nor too little.

Like it had been practiced countless times, precise enough to be measured with a protractor.

“You misunderstand, sir.”

He gave a slight bow, a flawless gesture.

“I came to protect her.”

“Protect?”

Orlando glanced down at the white-haired girl who had been shot by an arrow.

Then looked back up at the young man.

“That’s a rather unique way of protecting someone.”

The young man didn’t argue.

He straightened up, his gaze passing over Orlando’s shoulder to land on the girl.

A flicker of something Orlando couldn’t read passed through his heterochromatic pupils.

“Her wound needs treatment.”

He took a step forward.

Orlando didn’t move aside.

The two stared at each other from three steps away.

The alley fell silent for a few seconds.

A breeze swept over the wall, carrying a faint sound.

In the distance, the night watchman’s clapper rang out—three long beats and one short.

The third quarter of the hour of the ox.

“I’ll ask you two questions.”

Orlando held up two fingers.

“First, why don’t I hear your footsteps?”

“Second—”

He fixed his gaze on the young man’s mismatched eyes.

“Your eyes—one gold, one red. I’ve only seen that trait in one type of creature.”

The young man tilted his head.

His expression remained gentle.

“What creature have you seen, sir?”

“Dragons.”

Orlando said.

“The Silver Dragon Queen has silver eyes.”

He paused.

“But what species has two different colored eyes?”

The young man’s smile didn’t change.

But in his heterochromatic eyes, the gold one seemed to flash for a moment.

“You know quite a bit about dragons, sir.”

“Not really.”

Orlando shrugged.

“I’ve just seen a few.”

He said it casually.

Of course, he wouldn’t tell this stranger that he hadn’t just seen dragons—he had been one.

No, not had been—he still was one.

Whenever he wanted, he could transform back into that silver-haired, silver-eyed loli.

The thought irritated him.

“Answer the question.”

The young man was silent for a moment.

Then he spoke.

“For the first question, I walk silently because I’m used to it.”

“Used to what?”

“Used to not being discovered.”

That answer was as good as no answer.

Orlando frowned.

“And the second question?”

The young man just looked at him quietly.

In his heterochromatic eyes, the moonlight reflected.

The gold eye looked like melted amber, the red one like coagulated blood.

“This gentleman.”

“If that little girl from the Dark Night Clan doesn’t get her wound treated within half an hour, the arrow poison will seep into her heart.”

Orlando glanced down at the white-haired girl.

Her breathing was indeed weaker than before.

The color of her lips had changed from pale white to an unnatural cyan.

A thin layer of cold sweat had formed on her forehead, glistening in the moonlight.

“The arrow was poisoned?”

“Night Blossom Herb juice. For the Dark Night Clan, it’s equivalent to arsenic for humans.”

Orlando stared at the young man for three seconds.

Then he stepped aside.

“Go ahead.”

The young man walked over to the girl, crouching down.

His movements were very light, his knees making no sound when they touched the ground.

The hem of his coat spread on the ground like black water.

He extended his right hand, palm hovering above the arrow wound on the girl’s back.

He didn’t touch her skin.

But around his hand, a faint golden light began to emanate.

Orlando’s pupils contracted slightly.

That was holy light.

The holy light of the Angel Clan.

A guy with split black-and-white hair and heterochromatic eyes, using the holy light of the Angel Clan.

And—

He stared at the young man’s back.

Under the dark coat, at the position of his shoulder blades, something seemed to be slightly bulging.

But it quickly subsided.

The white-haired girl’s breathing gradually steadied.

The cyan tinge on her lips faded somewhat, but her face remained pale.

The young man withdrew his hand, took a small bottle of medicinal powder from his pocket, sprinkled it on the wound, and re-bandaged it.

The entire process took less than three minutes.

His movements were as practiced as if he had done it countless times.

He stood up and turned to Orlando.

“Thank you for your assistance, sir.”

“I didn’t help her much.”

Orlando leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“She got shot on her own. I just didn’t let her die in the street.”

The young man nodded slightly.

“Then, may I take her away?”

Orlando looked at him.

“One last question.”

“Please, go ahead.”

“Who are you?”

The young man was silent for a while.

The night wind rushed in from the alley mouth, stirring his black-and-white hair.

The black and white strands intertwined in the wind but never mixed.

It was as if an invisible line kept them forever separated on two sides.

“You may call me—”

He paused.

“Hui.”

“Hui?”

“The gray Hui.”

Orlando stared into his eyes.

Gold and red.

Holy light of the Angel Clan.

Silent footsteps.

That momentary bulge at the shoulder blades.

“What kind of creature are you, Hui?”

Hui smiled.

This time, the smile carried a bit more warmth, but just a little.

“That’s a very long question.”

He said.

“But today is not a good time to answer it.”

He bent down and lifted the white-haired girl horizontally.

She curled up in his arms, her white head resting against his chest, letting out another indistinct mumble.

Orlando caught it clearly.

She said—

“…Lord Hui…”

Hui glanced down at her but said nothing.

He carried the girl past Orlando, his steps steady and utterly silent.

When he reached the mouth of the alley, he stopped.

Without turning around.

“Sir.”

“Hmm?”

“You smell of dragon.”

Orlando’s body stiffened for a moment.

“Is that so.”

He kept his voice as calm as possible.

“Probably got contaminated by something when that little Dark Night Clan girl bit me.”

Hui did not refute him.

He just stood there, back to Orlando, his shadow stretched long by the moonlight.

At the edge of the shadow, at the position of the shoulder blades, there were two blurry outlines.

Like wings.

Or something else.

“Rantesti City is not a place to stay long.”

“If you still have business to attend to, it’s best to leave before dawn.”

“Why?”

Hui didn’t answer that question.

He stepped out of the alley entrance, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the street.

The white-haired girl in his arms was like a ball of white light, bobbing against his chest for a moment before being swallowed by the darkness.

“We will meet again tomorrow, sir.”

Only Orlando remained in the alley.

He looked down at his wrist.

Two rows of teeth marks were still there, the blood already dried.

The skin around the wound was slightly red, but there was no swelling or signs of poisoning.

“Do Dark Night Clan teeth have poison?”

He muttered to himself.

The God of Love’s voice rang lazily in his mind.

“No effect on you. You’re a dragon.”

“…What kind of answer is that?”

“Literal. Dragon bodies are immune to most toxins. Their bite is about the same as being bitten by a cat for you.”

“Have you ever seen a cat that bites this hard?”

The God of Love’s tone suddenly turned meaningful.

Orlando rolled his eyes.

He pulled his sleeve down to cover the teeth marks, bent down, and picked up the wooden sword from the ground.

The hilt was damp from the night dew, slightly cold in his hand.

Hui’s parting words circled in his mind twice.

‘You smell of dragon.’

‘What kind of person was that guy?’

‘A person who could use the holy light of the Angel Clan, had heterochromatic eyes, walked without a sound, and possibly had wings—a person?’

‘No.’

‘That’s definitely not human.’

Orlando tucked the wooden sword back into his waist belt and brushed the dust off his clothes.

“God of Love.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you know that guy?”

Three seconds of silence.

“No, but from his aura, he’s not an ordinary person either.”

‘Forget it.’

He looked up at the position of the moon.

The hour of the ox was almost over.

In two more hours, dawn would break.

Whether Hui’s words were true or false, one thing was certain—Rantesti City was indeed not a place to linger.

‘The Alderon Ruins. Whatever that place was, he needed to find it first.’

There were countless unpredictable variables in life.

If it weren’t for Victoria guiding him, he probably wouldn’t survive a month.