The Tower is built upon broken skulls and bones. It’s no wonder it demands blood and death and fury to survive. Its Gods are death, power and lust and its people are but future corpses meant to satisfy crazy demands. Every day on average fifty people die on each floor and still, the Tower is never satisfied. Even the Soulmate system, ‘a blessing’ the Regulars whispered in awe, was a bloodthirsty system made to appease the Tower. ‘True love’ they said but how could love be real and everlasting, written in the stars and all those fairytale-like adjectives when it was based on hatred. After all, who would you try to kill other than someone you hate? And so, the nature of the Tower was not hidden.

So, undeniably, for worse or for better, the death of Khun Maria is not a shock to anyone. Still, it’s a tragic event for all the right and wrong reasons. The death of a Princess is seen as a weakness in Jahad’s army. The people whisper and talk and some go as far as to yell about the lost piece in the chess match but at the end of the day that’s all it is; a piece lost. People hear about the passing of Maria, ‘the assassination’ the bold ones whisper and grieve for Jahad’s lost pawn.

Aguero grieves for more than that. He grieves his sister for a second time. Some might even call how Aguero once again mourns quietly a lost sister ironic. They would probably be right. Perhaps, he muses, that’s his fate. This time, however, things are worse. This time his heart breaks more—it had hurriedly been put together the first time and he had foolishly thought that it wouldn’t break again—and the need for him to hide it is bigger because just the next day Maschenny says he’ll be coming with her to meet Jahad. ‘I need time’ he wants to say but knows Maschenny won’t give it. She doesn’t own him anything and the situation is oh so fragile, he fears that even an uneven breath can shatter everything.

So Aguero joins Maschenny and stands behind a wooden door as she meets with the King. And he stands there, frozen and emotionless as guards pass by and as the voices inside get louder.

“If Maria could wield Yellow May, it would have been given to her.” Jahad shouts and Aguero clenches his fist. It’s all their ‘talk’ is about. The lost weapon. Not Maria. Not even Kallavan. And Maschenny hears him out, never defending her deceased sister, never defending even herself. She patiently agrees with everything the King says and the talk is shorter than Aguero expected.

Maschenny exits the room and looks at Aguero. Years trained under his mother and Aguero had learned to never show his true feelings so, despite the voice inside his head that wants to curse Maschenny for letting Jahad talk ill of Maria, he remains quiet. Surprisingly, Maschenny keeps looking at him as she waits for him to speak. The moment doesn’t come.

.

“It’s a disaster,” Han-Sung says and Bam finds himself quietly agreeing for different reasons. He closes his eyes but all he can see is blood and smell the smoke. Bam had not been a stranger to death, FUG had made sure of that, but it had never been like that. Bam had hurt, had killed, a lot of people that tried to get to him or anyone he cared about but he had never stuck around to see someone undeserving dying. Moreover, there were no traces of Jinsung meaning Bam had fallen headfirst into a trap. “Viole.”

“Hm?”

“Is something on your mind?” The thing about Han-Sung was that he always spoke calmly, a smile plastered on his face, and it was incredibly easy for someone to trust him. If Bam was younger, if he had been with FUG for lesser time, he would probably find himself spilling his guts. ‘I still can’t get her blood off my fingernails’ the Twenty-Fifth Bam would say or perhaps ‘She looked like Kiseia’ and then all hell would break loose because Bam kept making the same mistakes. Still, the Twenty-Fifth Bam was dead and Viole was no fool.

“I was just thinking that we have no leads regarding Jinsung.” He says. Han-Sung smiles.

“I will pressure White into giving us his source. In the meantime, I should tell you that FUG is taking credit,”—he folded his arms— “for the attack.”

“Why?”

“Someone had to.” Han-Sung replies. Despite the question, Bam knew FUG wouldn’t let a death as important as Kallavan’s go to waste. If no one else took credit for the casualty in Jahad’s army, it was only a matter of time before FUG announced that they did the hit. Because, at the end of the day, the awaited war between Jahad and FUG never seemed to come—just a political dance.

“What if someone talks?”

“I doubt they would. Besides,” he paused, “you said there was a witness who saw you with the dead girl. Your clothes have the FUG symbol, it’s safe to assume she’ll mention it.”

Before Bam could argue further, the door opened revealing White. The other Slayer’s face was bruised badly. Bam couldn’t imagine what kind of situation White had found himself in but he knew it couldn’t be good. Meanwhile, Han-Sung sighed at the sight. “You look like hell.”

White gave them both a toothy smile. “You should see the other ones.”

.

The room was dark, the only source of light coming from a small hole in one of the curtains. It had been there for a little more than three months and Maria always told Aguero to patch it up. He hadn’t, of course. It wasn’t like he spent much time in his room to care about the small hole. Still, as he laid on his bed, shirt wrinkled and a black tie hanging around his neck a little too tightly, the hole seemed bigger than ever before. “I need to fix it,” he whispers to himself and while his eyes never leave the curtain, his body can’t seem to move.

A traitorous voice inside his head adds that there isn’t a good reason to fix it. Maria won’t bother him about it anymore. “And it won’t be your room for much longer.” He adds. The thing is he’s right—there’s no room for questioning. The only reason Khun Aguero Agnis, an abandoned son of the Khun Family, lived with two Princesses and a protégé was because Maria wanted him there. Now that she was gone, there’d be no reason for him to remain.

He supposed he didn’t mind. Sticking around without her felt wrong. Everything felt wrong. Aguero had spent the past few years depending on Maria—how to help her rise, how to help her survive—her absence meant many things but mostly it signified a loss of purpose. “Pathetic.”

“Am I bothering you?”—Aguero lifted his gaze and saw Ran standing outside his room, his shirt messily tucked in, a tie in his hand—“I’m, it’s,” he frowned and handed him the tie.

Aguero smiled at him sadly as he bent down to help him. “Do we have to go?” Ran whispered quietly when Aguero was done. Ran was never like this, he wasn’t particularly loud but his words were always clear, always on point and never uttered like that. It was a clear indicator that Ran was in pain and an unfriendly reminder to Aguero that he wasn’t the only one grieving.

“It won’t be long.” He said surprised that his voice had come out equally quiet “We won’t make any statements and there won’t be any cameras at the actual funeral.”

“It still seems wrong.” And it is, Aguero wants to say. He can already see the fake worry in people’s eyes, he can already hear Jahad praising Maria for her bravery as if he hadn’t cursed Maschenny for handing her Yellow May just a few hours earlier. But still, those are not thoughts he can voice, especially to a kid, so he simply smiles in the way all Khuns know.

“We can go for ice cream once we’re done, yes?”

.

Bam had been told many times, mainly by his teacher, that he often proved Murphy’s Law. He always responded with a laugh to it but as Shibisu turned up the volume and a reporter’s words drowned all other sounds he couldn’t help thinking that his teacher was right. Rak walked towards him, troubled about the way Bam had frozen in his place as pictures of the deceased Khun Maria Jahad appeared on the screen. Soon enough, everyone was looking at it.

“—we do not weep for the fallen,” her mother said with no trace of emotion “she died for the King as she was destined.”

Bam heard a soft gasp from next to him and looked away from the screen for no more than three seconds, just to get a glimpse of Kiseia staring at the news equally dumbfounded.

“The King hasn’t given an official statement yet but we managed to catch Khun Maschenny Jahad after the funeral,” the reporter a girl with short brown hair stated as the image changed. A new scene was shown in which a woman, Bam assumed it was Khun Maschenny, elegantly stood surrounded by reporters. She was dressed in a black turtleneck dress and wore a silver necklace with a stone similar to Maria’s bracelet. She seemed to be whispering something to a figure outside the frame and as soon as she was done she looked at the reporters with a small smile.

“I need some air,” Kiseia whispered and left the room. Hwaryun perked up, looking as if she argued with herself about whether she should follow or not. Bam thought that since they were both Khuns, it wouldn’t be impossible for the two to have met.

“—a FUG attack?”

“Are you asking for an official statement or for my comment?”

“Well—”

“We aren’t sure it was FUG.”

“The King wi—”

“The King can do whatever he pleases and it’s none of my concern. If you ask me, I think he won’t do anything.” Maschenny snapped and then let out a sigh “You couldn’t have wait even a day, could you?”—there was no reply— “It doesn’t matter because I will personally find who did this and make him pay.”

“And if it’s FUG?”

“If it’s FUG,” Maschenny repeated mocking the reporter’s tone “then I will bury the entire organization to the ground. No further questions.”’

“I don’t think this could have gone worse,” Shibisu said and turned off the television. “But other than the rumours the Elders have planted, there is nothing else tying you to the murder!”

“This doesn’t make me feel better, Isu.”

“Besides it’s wrong.” Anaak added, “You also have Yellow May.”

“What?” Bam asked. The name sounded familiar but he couldn’t remember where he had heard it before.

“You know, the very specific weapon that belongs to Maschenny and Maria gave to you.”

Shibisu fainted, Hwaryun barely had time to catch him and the rest look at Anaak confused. “You didn’t know it was the Yellow May?”

“No?”

“Neither did you two?”

“A weapon is a weapon.” Rak and Hatz replied at the same time. Hwaryun shrugged. Bam needed some air. Preferably until he over-breathed.

.

Aguero was not, in any way, a café snob. But that didn’t mean he had to like Sweet and Sour, a small rustic café near Wolhaiksong far away from the city centre that didn’t bother so much with the art of coffee but rather serving everyone with a friendly smile. Aguero found it dreadful but it was the only place in a Grey zone—far away that neither the King’s loyal supporters nor the rebels could annoy them—that served ice cream so there wasn’t much to be done about it.

“This is awful.” Ran told him, his mouth full, not bothering to even lower his voice. Aguero shot the barista who was luckily busy making his coffee one quick glance before turning to Ran.

“You don’t have to eat it then.”

“No, I’m going to.”

“Ready to go.” The barista said and placed the coffee on the counter next to a cookie. Aguero nodded politely at her while grabbing his things and turned to leave before she made him engage in conversation. However, the universe seemed to find that tactic annoying thus putting an obstacle in his way. Before he could react Aguero found himself colliding with a stranger barely managing to hold on to his coffee—the stranger’s hand held it as well—and dropping the cookie which was saved, and stolen, by Ran.

“Sorry,” Aguero said as he regained his balance. The stranger looked at him dumbfounded, his mouth slightly open, looking with awe. At the present state, Aguero could not think of a good reason why someone would look at him like that. Not only had they collide but he was in a dreadful condition, his hair messy, his shirt wrinkled and his eyes bloodshot. Sure, Aguero like every Khun was used to the admiration of strangers and friends but this was a surprise. The man didn’t seem ready to reply anytime soon so Aguero grabbed Ran’s arm and made his leave.

He didn’t turn back.

.

“Bam,” Ehwa called once more. Bam had heard her the first two times but he found himself unable to move. Still, time passed and he supposed it would be rude to ignore her. “So, this was something.”

By something, she probably meant an extraordinary experience. The universe, for the first time in forever mind you, had finally seen Bam having a bad day and had given him a reward. It had let him meet a beautiful stranger and though they hadn’t exactly interacted with each other, Bam felt ready to deal with anything life threw at him for the next ten years.

“What can I get you?”

“His number.”

“Bam—”

“The usual, please.”

Less than a minute later, Bam receives a string of texts.

.

Maschenny has many talents as people have often noted. Gardening isn’t one of them. It’s a skill useless for a Princess of Jahad and one that Maschenny wouldn’t normally have passing her mind but as she stared outside her office’s window, her gaze falling on the bushes outside, the lack of the skill was too apparent. It’s not important, she muses to herself, you’re fine without it. She hasn’t lost her mind, she knows life doesn’t end because a bunch of weeds will die and flowers will wither, but it doesn’t stop her heart from feeling heavy.

“Who kills the garden,” she whispers quietly to the void. Her breathing gets heavier. ‘Who killed Maria?’ a traitorous voice inside her that sounds terribly like a mix of every reporter she had encountered adds.

‘We don’t know.’ Her memory says in a sweet voice. It’s uttered perfectly without a moment of hesitation because Maschenny had practised it at least ten times in front of the mirror. In real life, it’s not exactly what she says but it’s a solid lie. ‘We don’t know but they’ll pay’ she had promised and Maschenny knew it was a lie before the words even came out.

Who killed Maria? A supporter of Jahad, a member of FUG, a bystander. Maschenny had never been foolish enough to believe that FUG, as the entire organization, was behind the ordeal. She had known Jinsung enough to be certain that he wouldn’t do such a thing. And if worse came to worst, she knew he would contact her as soon as he found out. Knowing that the blame fell on a person or perhaps a small group was a relief and a burden. Still, people like that wouldn’t have much to lose and even if Maschenny found them, even if she tore them apart, their pain wouldn’t compare to this.

Who killed Maria, her brain repeated. Khun Eduan and his harem’s ambition. Maria was kind—a rare trait for Eduan’s children—and she had deserved a quiet peaceful life. She could have thrived there, Maschenny was certain, she could have been happy maybe even settle down with her soulmate. But that kind of dream was impossible for a Khun child. The Family was against it after all the Wives had all denied their destined love for the sake of a man who had already found his soulmate and simply ignored her. Thus, all the mothers bore daughters who would follow in their footsteps and try to become the Tower’s queen. After all, history-making was nothing more than history repetition. 

This, too, was a circle and it always ended up here.

(Who killed Princess Maria, Maschenny wondered and found herself clutching onto her necklace.)

When Maschenny was a child, four or five years younger than Ran, her mother had placed her in front of a window like this one. She had brushed her hair while Maschenny watched the others, her older siblings, train. Maschenny trained as well, perhaps harder than them, but she was never allowed to do so in a public space. She didn’t understand why, after all, it seemed more interesting than hitting something lifeless.

Her mother had laughed at her question and as Maschenny grew older and thought back to that day she could swear the laughter sounded prideful. “They train to be embellishments; you train to become a queen.” And Maschenny might have been a child and life might have been long and uncertain but when her mother spoke, all she said was being written in stone.

Fast forward, Maschenny is a Princess and though her mother’s wish is partly granted there is an emptiness inside her. She is starving and she’s building something—Maria is rising, Aguero is pushing her, Ran grows—but it’s all pointless and Yellow May might be in her hands but it took too long and then—

Yuri Ha shows up and gets Black March immediately. There is no time for her to starve and Maschenny burns and doesn’t think and demands they fight for it and perhaps if the timing had been different if she knew Maria long her the other girl would have stopped her. It’s a bloody fight and Maschenny keeps burning to the last minute. But she’s tired and Yuri is complete, and she pins her down easily and her upper lip is bleeding on top of Maschenny as she says ‘Stand down’. Yuri does not crave anything and so she should know; Maschenny is a Khun and she gets what she wants. She takes her hand in a truce and when her guards are down she crashes her head against the floor. It’s cheap and unfair and the crowd boos her but both she and Jahad are content; this had always been a fight to the death.

Maschenny has the Black March in her hands and the emptiness is more bearable. Still, three days later, Yuri returns looking as alive as they come, takes back her weapon and stabs Maschenny on her shoulder. It’s not a shot to kill. They both know it wouldn’t matter if it was.

They reject the bond, as they ought to, and this should have been the end of it. But Maschenny is never satisfied and she keeps Yuri closer than the rest of them, an unlikely alliance, with the excuse that no one can betray their soulmate.

(Everyone can. Everyone does.)

It’s an alliance. It’s an opportunity. There are no strings attached. She believed it wholeheartedly until Maria’s death. Because at the end of the day Maschenny knows that the only reason Maria was there was because Maschenny didn’t want Yuri to go alone.

A soft knock on the door brings Maschenny back to reality. She places the necklace from the inside of her dress and clears her throat. “It’s open.”

Aguero and Ran come inside looking worn-out. Ran tries to hide it but he shrinks under her gaze as she did with their mother. She isn’t aware if he does it unconsciously but every time they meet like this he tends to stand closer to Aguero as it provides him comfort. It doesn’t bother her.

“You wanted to speak with us?”

“Yes, I have made an important decision.”—she sat on her chair—“I have fired Mr Love.” There is no clear reaction to this so Maschenny continues. “From now on, you two will train together.”

More silence follows until Ran lets out a bitter laugh. “You’re unbelievable.” Maschenny stares back at him with a defeated sigh. She knows what he needs and she knows she can’t provide. Ran shakes his head and storms off. Aguero turned to follow him.

“He’ll get used to it.” She told him before he could leave. “Remember you won’t just be training Ran. I expect you to still help me around and continue your work as usual.”

Aguero continues looking at her dumbfounded. She thought she was very clear with her announcement. “What?”

“I thought I was leaving.” He tells her and it’s Maschenny’s turn to be silent. Aguero, confused with her surprised expression, added: “Maria is no longer around.”

Maschenny sighs, irritation visible, and ushers him to sit down. “You’re an abandoned son surrounded by many unflattering rumours regarding the nature of your relationship with Maria,”—Aguero opens his mouth but Maschenny lifts her finger to shush him— “enemies in the Family, enemies with Jahad and enemies with FUG. I don’t think that there are more than five people who wouldn’t kill you if the opportunity arises. I’m certain that if your own mother knew what would be of you, she would have suffocated you with a pillow.”

Aguero gulped and Maschenny continued unfazed. “I have tried to grant many of Maria’s wishes during our partnership but the cost of this would be too high.”—Maschenny leaned against her chair—“Luckily, I had already found out enough good traits to risk it.”

“Good traits?”

Maschenny nods. “The moment I learned of your case I knew you were a game-changer. You’re an abnormality, not exactly a rule breaker but someone skilled enough to shift the rules in order to fit him. Our team is powerful, the pure blood of the Khuns and Jahad coursing through our veins, our rise is constant and you,” she pauses “you aren’t meant to be special and yet you keep with us without trouble. I don’t do charity cases and you are in no need of aid, thinking otherwise is insulting to us both.”

Aguero smiles. “Thanks.”

“If you repeat this to anyone, you will not live to see another day.”

“I know.”

“Good. Also,” she cleared her throat “I’m going to search for Yellow May.”

“You think it’s still there?”

“No, but Jahad does and I would love to prove him wrong.”

“I’ll pack my stuff.”

.

Bam is a firm believer of cleaning out his own mess, and other people’s but this is currently irrelevant. This is how he finds himself in the worst place possible; the very scene two trusted members of Jahad’s army were killed. Any logical person would have stayed away from there or the very least not bare the FUG symbol in his clothes but Bam was known for two things; being very powerful and having zero impulse control. It’s not entirely his fault per se, Han-sung advised him to get rid of Yellow May and which better place to do so other than the motel.

Luckily, before he can act, he spots a figure—that is almost certainly Khun Maschenny Jahad—eyeing a big sign. Normally the sign had the motel’s name but it had been vandalized to show the phrase ‘FUG doesn’t forget’. Bam sighed and went to the back of the building, hopefully far away for the Princess to notice him. When he found a space he liked, he went to reach for his Pocket.

“I wouldn’t that if I were you.” A voice said and Bam cursed the entire world, Headon, the God of the Tower and the Tower itself for his current position. The very beautiful stranger from the café was currently pressing the tip of a knife in Bam’s back—probably cutting some of his hair in the process—and if that wasn’t some kind of dark humour life had, Bam didn’t know what it was.

Bam took a deep breath and turned around, quickly moving his hands to twist his attacker’s wrist and make him drop the knife. The stranger, although surprised, moved equally fast and kicked him. Bam dodged the third kick and punched him in the face sending him tumbling down. The other one groaned and Bam knelt on top of him, trying to hold his hands down. “Hey, hey, stop.”

To his surprise, the man did stop and looked at him. An awful idea. Bam bending meant that his hair was no longer in front of his eyes and he could clearly see the other’s eyes. They made Bam long for something, maybe the ocean, maybe a crystal sky. “You’re beautiful.” He finds himself whispering. The man stares stunned.

And proceeds to headbutt him. Bam groans in pain as he hears a thud and suddenly he’s choking while the world dims.

(The man stares.)

.

Maschenny walks in dreadful scenery. There is a man lying in a pool of blood, his throat slit, and Aguero standing uncertainly beside him his face covered in blood. Maschenny finds herself unable to think anything else but the blood. Aguero looks at her and goes from tired to worried in a matter of seconds.

“I didn’t think.” He tells her and Maschenny has no idea what he means “I should have kept him alive for questioning but I acted rationally.”

“It’s his blood,” Maschenny says. Aguero nods. The atmosphere feels lighter. “We should go.” Aguero nods again and quickly glances at the dead body beside him, his expression unreadable.

They walk in silence.

.

“We’re in a dead-end.” Maschenny says “We need to find something soon.”

“If we find Jinsung—”

“It would provide answers, yes.” Maschenny cut him off “But if FUG can’t find him, we can’t either.”

“Maybe we can’t.” Aguero smiled “But I know a guy who might.”