CW: Explicit language, alcohol abuse, vomit.
At the peak of Solaris’ arc, one can find a drunken figure sprawled outside Sweet Brier Inn having a rather vocal breakdown.
Passerbys are drawn to the scene and some even stop to spectate the man’s theatrics, laughing and jeering. A kind soul attempts to assist the poor guy, but when they draw close, they are subjected to verbal abuse and flying fists.
The workers of the Sweet Brier are helpless to this spectacle. Not only is this man a regular customer, but he had also bought a near endless supply of River Wine and lined their pockets well with his hefty gold.
So they let him rant and rave, since any potential customers frightened away had already been compensated for thrice over.
An odd figure joins the growing crowd. Her wild red hair and knobbly limbs give her an eccentric and frazzled air, but none pay any mind to her. All eyes are latched onto the drunk, who is now bemoaning certain injustices as he nurses a bottle of River Wine.
“What’s goin’ on here?” Dizzy asks her neighbour with a nudge of an elbow.
The traveling merchant rubs his sore ribs with a frown as he leans away from the gap-toothed woman. “Not quite sure myself,” he admits with a shrug. “I just stopped by to see what the fuss was about. Weren’t expecting a show like this…”
“Hah! I knew he would lose it one day, but I didn’t expect him to lost it so…pathetically” Dizzy hums and rocks back on her heels, chewing on a toothpick. She casually hooks her thumbs into the pockets of her pants.
“You know him?” The merchant asks, raising a brow.
“He’s a regular customer of mine. Well, used to be.”
“Why don’t you help him then? He’s making a scene. And a dangerous one at that.”
“He’s always like this,” Dizzy laughs, much to the merchant’s chagrin. “Always on the verge of death. Anyway, it doesn’t concern me.”
“He’ll be arrested come morn, I’m sure. He’s been spouting Otsuki rhetoric for the past hour.”
“Is that so?”
“Just listen to him!”
Indeed, the Rat is in the middle of such a rant right now, slumped on the ground as he hugs his precious River Wine to his chest. Around him, scattered upon the vacated tables, are countless bottles – all empty and covered in the titian dust.
Rin looks beyond drunk and much too sickly. His pallour is colourless and sticky with sweat. Bloodshot eyes rove this way and that, blindly glossing over his impromptu audience. His hair is greasy and lank, and his crumpled Northern clothes are soiled with piss and vomit.
His startling appearance, coupled with his drunken raving, makes for a pitiable visage – a broken man pushed beyond his limits with nothing to catch him but the barbed stalks of madness.
Dizzy almost finds herself feeling sorry for the guy.
“–and Hwan Sun! That snake. That conniving snake. He’s done nothing but take advantage of me from the moment we met. What do you think the great Governor of Hanjuyang does all day long? Lemme tell you! He. Does. NOTHING! Nothing but drink the finest wines and eat the finest foods and crush people like us beneath his heel. He thinks he can control me? He’s delusional! Mad!” A hysterical giggle bursts from his chapped lips. He throws his head back and takes a long swig, the column of his throat rolling with every large gulp. When he pulls away with a gasp, streams of blue liquid trickle down his chin.
“Those High District bastards…I hope Izayoma spits them out into worms in their next lives. Match the body to the soul.” He sways and knocks into a chair which he clutches onto for dear life. “Maybe we should just let the devils take over! Let them string up the bluebloods and make them suffer like we’ve suffered!”
“Do you have a death wish?” The merchant shouts, blanching in fright.
Rin throws his head back and screeches like a banshee: “I WILL NOT COWER!”
“Bah! You’re too young to understand the things you’re babbling about!”
“The Crown Prince himself hunted me down like an animal. He hunted me, a human being! What do I not understand after experiencing that? I understand more than you ever could. I understand that we’re nothing to those bluebloods. We’re no better than game and we let them hunt us. Use us and discard us. For what? And why?!” The chair goes flying into the crowd, scattering onlookers like clumped petals tossed by rapids.
Dizzy skips away with a laugh, having had her fill of the show. “Then why don’t you do something about it, Rat?” she yells, throwing oil onto the fire as a parting gift.
The raven staggers to his feet. He takes another swig and immediately vomits the liquor back up, splashing blue upon his bare feet. The drunk sags against the table with a terrible groan. “I will,” he slurs, clutching his spinning head. “I will, ‘cus none of you cowards will…”
Rin’s dimly aware of the crowd dispersing, leaving behind jeers and insults in their wake. He spits out the foul taste in his mouth and pushes himself upright, legs like jelly. This level of inebriation, while uncomfortable, is not wholly unmanageable. In fact, most of his cognition remains intact. It’s only his body that really suffers.
He sees Bellow chasing away the lingering spectators with harsh words and hammy fists. Small sticks to his side like a limpet, faithfully dogging the bigger man’s steps with a worried expression. When he sees the ragged figure of the Rat, Small detaches himself and hurries over, chubby legs moving in a blur.
“Rin! Are you alright?” he pants, slipping his arm around the raven’s slim waist. “What’s happened to you?”
“Nothing’s happened. Get off me…” Rin shoves his hands into his friend’s face, smushing his cheeks as he tries to pry himself free. “Can’t a guy have a drink?!”
Small sputters under those clammy palms, but he maintains his hold, determined to support the drunken man. “I think you’ve had far too much! Look, you’ve been sick all over yourself. Why don’t you come back home with us?”
“I dun’ wanna!” Rin shouts, throwing a fist into Small’s skull. The latter finally releases him with a pained yelp, stumbling back as he clutches the top of his head.
“Rin!” Small whines, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. “I’m just trying to help you!”
“I don’t need your damn help!”
“Oh yeah? ‘Cus you’re one word away from getting hauled off by the Silverswords,” Bellow barks, stalking up to the drunken youth. He grabs Rin by the collar and almost hauls him off his feet. “Have you lost your mind? Why are you doing this? Why are you here?”
Rin sags in the bull’s grasp, a manic grin plastered across his wan features. “Sure, why not? I’ve lost my godsdamned mind. So I’ve come here to drink myself to death.”
“Where’s that noble of yours?” Bull casts his narrowed gaze around, expecting to see the golden-eyed lord nearby.
“Not here.”
Bell huffs and slaps the side of Rin’s head, as if to knock some sense back into him. “Did you two have a spat or what?”
“I’ve been kicked out. Should’ve expected it, really.”
“The Governor finally wised up, did he?”
We’re sorry for MTLers or people who like using reading mode, but our translations keep getting stolen by aggregators so we’re going to bring back the copy protection. If you need to MTL please retype the gibberish parts.
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“So you decided to get drunk and curse him out, huh? Think you’re a rebel now? A real Otsuki devil?” Bellow scoffs and throws the raven into a chair, containing him for the moment. He glances at Small and gestures to the main entrance to the inn. “Go and get some food and water, won’t ya? We need to sober this idiot up before he gets himself killed.”
Small gives him a relieved smile and nods furtively before scampering inside. The bull watches him for a moment, a faint smile tugging at his face.
“You and Small?” Rin hums, swaying as he grasps his own cheeks sloppily.
“What?” Bellow barks, almost jumping out of his skin. His entire face burns tomato red. “What are you on about, you crazy bitch?”
“You and Small,” Rin enunciates his words slowly. “I didn’t think he would be your type. How long have you two been fucking?”
“We ain’t fucking!”
“How convincing.”
“We ain’t!” Bell gruffs, scuffing the back of Rin’s head. The latter yelps and lurches forward, saved from a fall by the irascible bull and his steady hands. “We ain’t. He’s just…decided to follow me around. And y’know, since I’ve lost my guys, I just let Small do what he wants. Doesn’t hurt to have someone watching your back.”
The raven laughs and gives Bellow a hard pat on the cheek. “Whatever you say, pet. Well, when you two finally get down to it, make sure to use protection–”
“We ain’t fucking!”
When Rin is sick again, his friends decide to bring him inside. They rent out a room for a few hours so he can work the alcohol from his system. By the time he’s had a wash and eaten what little he can keep down, he’s finally sober enough to retain his stability. He reclines in the lumpy bed, utterly exhausted from his performance.
Small disappears into the bathroom to wash the raven’s soiled clothes, happily humming to himself. His sweet voice echoes and filters into the bedroom, where Bellow is eating the remnants of Rin’s meal as the two speak.
“All that coin in your pocket,” Bell muffles through a mouthful of roasted chicken. “Did you pilfer that from the Hwans?”
Rin hangs his right forearm across his brow, lashes fluttering as he dazes. “Sure, why not.”
“Is all of that true? About the Imperial Palace?”
“Mn.”
“You were hunted by the Crown Prince?”
“Mn.”
“Did you meet the Mother?” Bellow leans forward, pausing in his eating to squint at the Rat.
“Sure did.”
“And?”
“She’s nothing special.”
“Hmf. Just as I expected, then.” The bull leans back, slightly disappointed. He tears into the chicken leg with fresh gusto. “Why did the Hwans take you to the palace anyway?”
“Why else would a blueblood parade around a Slummer?” he says, dryly. “They considered me a ‘rare and endangered beast’.”
“And they dumped you when they bored of you.”
“That’s exactly it.”
“It’s not like you to get this upset about being used.”
Rin lowers his arm to glare at the hungry brute. “I’m not upset. I’m pissed.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Do you see me crying?”
“May as well be,” Bell grunts, taking a swig of warm water. He twists his lips in disgust. “So what’s the plan then? You’re gonna just keep drinking and get yourself arrested?”
“No,” Rin snaps, pushing a knuckle between his wrinkled brows. His head pounds and his stomach flips nauseatingly. “My plans haven’t changed. I still have to deal with Kahin and Blossom. Are you staying with the Hunters’ Guild?”
“Pretty much. They have good food and it’s outside the Marquis’ territory. I can pretty much do whatever I want, as long as I help them with a hunt every now and then.”
“Oh? You’re not picking corn with your old man?”
“Mention corn again and I’ll knock your teeth out!”
Rin huffs amusedly at his friend’s strong feelings against the fruit. “Any movement yet with Kahin and Blossom?”
“Blossom’s new Church is gaining followers. He’s really sunk his claws into Taecho but there’s not much we can do about it. At least not without attracting attention.”
“‘We’, huh?”
“Shuddup. The food’s good. As for Kahin, there’s nothing new. She’s still running the Rose Palace like nothing’s happened.”
“Iris thinks we need an army to take her down,” Rin muses quietly, staring up at the cracked ceiling. “Where do I get an army, Bell?”
“If I had my boys, then you woulda had something to start with,” Bellow laments, working on his second chicken leg. “But now the biggest army in the Slums is with the Marquis. He and his Hounds are unmatched in terms of numbers. Not even Crow has as many in his Flock.”
“The Hounds…” Rin hums, falling into a thoughtful silence.
“What’s the plan, then? If you’re done being an idiot and trying to get yourself killed.”
“Not done being an idiot yet,” the raven smirks, rolling onto his side. He gazes at Bellow with a hooded eye, exhaustion hanging upon his face in stark shadows. “But I have to figure out how to take down Kahin. I’m not going anywhere until she and the Rose Palace are gone.”
“Good,” Bellow grins, lips shining with grease. He waves a chicken bone at the youth. “You come up with a solid plan, I might even help you bring her down.”
Rin smiles, despite himself. “Thanks, pet. Even a meathead like you is better than nothing, I suppose.”
He ducks under the cover before the chicken bone hits him square in the face.
***
It spreads like wildfire over the course of the day. The scourge of the Slums, the Rat, has returned from his stint in the High District and brought with him dangerous sentiments that align him with the Otsuki devils. Rumours fly about his relationship with the Hwans.
“Did you hear? The Rat had been serving the Governor in that capacity.”
“In what capacity?”
“You know. That. Under the bedsheets.”
“Aye? Speak clearly!”
“He’s whored himself out to the Governor! Is that clear enough for you?”
“Are you insane? Hwan Sun having relations with the Rat?”
“Both of you are far off the mark. Clearly it’s the Governor’s son that’s being serviced.”
“No, no, no, you’re all wrong! That little thief has been scamming the Hwans this entire time, using his wiles to worm his way onto the estate. I’m sure he was caught red-handed and ousted.”
“His wiles? What wiles? Have you seen his face?”
“Aye. It’s horrible.”
“His poor mother. Although…Neri says that the woman was as crazy as her son.”
“Reckon he was the one who set the house on fire?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised…”
“And now he’s turned traitor.”
“You never know who’s a devil these days. Neri’s mother has started talking like one of them. I’ve half a mind to report her.”
“Don’t you think they have some good points, though? From what I’ve heard, it’s all about benefiting people like us. They might be onto something–”
“Shut your trap! Are you trying to get us all killed?!”
***
It’s almost too easy, Rin thinks as he hops Nuwa’s fence. He kicks at a chicken as it obstructs his path and the poor creature goes flying in a puff of feathers, flapping and squawking in rage. It’s only a matter of time before the rebels find him. A when, rather than an if. Of course, with the Governor’s protection, he could spout as much Otsuki aligned rhetoric as he wants. Not a single hair on his head would be touched by the Silverswords. It’s almost liberating, if he weren’t so blatantly shackled.
The political climate in the city is tense. Evidence of the rebels’ presence is mounting every day and people have started reporting on suspected sympathisers. The amount of public hangings have increased twofold, sending fear and paranoia through the two lower districts.
It’s clear to Rin that the rebels aren’t trying to obscure their presence at all. What better way to incite discontent against the elite when the elite are killing you everyday? He grimaces and pokes his head into the gaping doorway. From where he stands, the rebels are no less conniving and manipulative than the ones they espouse against.
“I’m alive~” he calls, body following his head into the house. “Surprise, surprise~”
“Get out of here!” Nuwa barks, spoon clattering into her bowl of stewed vegetables. “Your face is making me lose my appetite!”
Rin ducks as he narrowly avoids a rotten apple. He skips towards the old woman, who is seated in her rocking chair as per usual, and dares to throw an arm around her frail shoulders. She stiffens but doesn’t move to throw him off.
“Come on, Nuwa. Didn’t you miss me?” he croons, reaching into her bowl to pluck out a stewed potato. He pops it into his mouth and blinks at the surprising taste.
Nuwa slaps at his hand when he tries to pilfer her supper for the second time. “Miss you? Miss what? A foul-mouthed, ill mannered brat like you?”
“Ouch, Nuwa.” Rin steps back, rubbing his sore hand. “I almost died and this is how you treat me? Have you no heart?”
“You almost die everyday,” Nuwa gruffs. But she must have felt a modicum of pity for the raven, for she holds out her bowl for him to take. “It’s the last of the food. Bo’s out shopping but she’s not cooking until the morning.”
Rin hums and steals another potato before nudging the bowl back. “And get whatever terminal sickness you’re spreading around? No thanks.”
A vein throbs in her forehead.
“Anyway. The exorcism went well, in case you were wondering.” He saunters over to the hearth to snuff out the dying fire. It’s hotter inside than it is outside and he’s already started to sweat through his shirt.
“Your noble is intact?” Nuwa continues eating, eyeing the lad narrowly.
“More or less.”
“You are not.”
Rin pauses, staring at the clumpy white ash collecting in the firepit. He eventually lets out a noncommittal hum in response.
“What is it? The tether? Or were you injured during the exorcism?”
“I might have…used more mana than I had.”
“Explain,” Nuwa snaps, lowering her bowl.
Rin flops down onto the ground with his back to the stonewall ringing the pit. “Jun was the one who was injured. If I didn’t try to heal him, he wouldn’t have come out of it….himself. And then all my efforts would be for nothing. But I didn’t have any mana left. So–”
“So you used your own soul to heal him instead.” The witch simmers in anger, tossing her bowl onto the window sill.
“Oh, is that it?” Rin asks, faintly.
“You don’t even know what you did?!”
“Nope.”
Nuwa rocks back with a huff. “Truly, I have never met a bigger fool in my life.” A pause. “Aside from your mother.”
“What do you mean by that? Using my soul to heal him?”
“Think about when you get a hole in your shirt. What you did is equivalent to patching the hole with cloth from another shirt.”
“…I suppose that makes sense,” Rin hums, tapping his chin in thought. “I do feel kinda weird. Like I don’t fit in my own skin.”
“What else do you feel? Any other problems? Ailments?”
“Sometimes I get really cold for no reason. And in general, I feel like everything’s muted.”
“Muted?”
Rin stares at his hands, brows furrowed. “Like colours aren’t as vivid. Food doesn’t taste as good. I can’t really smell as well as I used to. And my emotions are…well, sometimes they’re really unstable. Other times there’s nothing.”
Nuwa sighs sharply, starting up a rock as she gazes out the window. The house across the road gleams white in the descending gloom. It’s like a ghost in the night, asomatous and fleeting.
“You have caused irreparable damage to your soul,” she says, wearily. “Your moment of recklessness has cost you a lifetime of suffering.”
“What’s going to happen?” Rin licks his lips nervously, tugging at the front of his robes. “Am I going to die?”
“Not quite.” Nuwa glances at the lad, lips twisted into a grimace. “The consequences are largely unknown as it is almost impossible to achieve such a feat. I would say, however, to expect your symptoms to worsen over time. Think of it like an open wound, left untreated. It will eventually fester and poison your blood. Perhaps, it may even kill you in the end.”
“Is there a way to fix it?” The gravity of his situation hits Rin like a tonne of bricks. He reels, head pounding. “I didn’t think…I didn’t think it was such a big problem…”
“You didn’t think at all,” Nuwa barks, slapping her palm upon the arm of her chair. “Unblock your ears, boy. This is irreparable damage. There is no fix.”
He can already feel himself changing. From the moment he returned to his senses after the soulwalking ritual, he’s felt colder. Emptier. And everything around him feels just as lifeless.
Rin palms his brow, trying to steady his breath. He bites the insides of his cheeks hard enough to draw blood. Somehow, the foul, coppery taste settles his frenetic pulse.
“What do I do, Nuwa?” he asks, raking his hands through his hair anxiously. He leaves those unruly locks moreso mussed, making him look unhinged. “You’re ancient and always have too much to say. Surely you have an idea.”
She gruffs and grumbles but eventually responds in all austerity. “Find yourself a system that works for you. Something that will keep you constrained, especially as you deteriorate.”
“A system? How do I do that?”
“It could be a mantra. A set of rules you anchor yourself to. Perhaps a curse that delivers punishment should you breach your set boundaries. You might also have someone by your side, who would act as your guide.” Nuwa flaps her hand impatiently. “Use your brain for once. Whatever that will keep you stable and well should be your system.”
Rin knocks his head back and stares at the ceiling. Even if it’s years, decades from now, he will eventually lose himself. And that to him is worse than death. Was Dasom right after all?
“Tch. Think you’ve been abandoned? Though I may be ancient, I have more life in me than you think!” She wags a gnarled finger in his direction. “And if you act out in any way, I will whip you back into shape. This I can promise you.”
Rin’s pale face cracks into a trepidatious grin. “You can barely hold up a whip, let alone use it. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
He throws himself to the side as a spoon comes sailing at his head. “Do I have rings on my face? Why is everyone throwing shit at me today?”
“Because you are an impetuous brat that needs to be taught a lesson.”
“What lesson can I learn from a wrinkled old prune? How to be a raisin?”
“If you want to die so badly, I can happily oblige!”
***
The taun wood house had been recently painted and it glows dimly in the heavy fog of night. Rin hovers at the door, the key Nuwa had given him clutched tightly in his hand.
It’s a new lock, one that has a magical formation which makes it difficult – nigh impossible to pick. There are other features of the house that have been considered with great care and investment. Such as the thick glass windows. The durability of the wood. Small protection wards etched upon the siding with a skilled hand. Even though it’s no bigger than a single room in the Hwan Estate, all of it, especially an uncommon material like glass, would have cost a small fortune.
Evidently from the key and wards alone, Nuwa is responsible for the rebuild. But how she managed to pull off such a feat is a mystery to the Rat, considering that her own house is ramshackle and on the verge of collapse.
He pulls in a deep breath. Oddly enough, he doesn’t feel as anxious as he had before when confronted by the house. So it’s with relative ease that he enters and closes the door behind.
There’s nothing inside. Just sparse furniture and an unused fireplace. A futon that seems freshly stuffed and sewn sits empty in the corner of the single cell house. There’s a plain table suited for two people, upon which several miscellaneous items are splayed out on display.
Feeling numb, he quietly pads over to the table, palm raised to send a soft argent light across the items.
They had been saved from the fire by the charred metal lockbox, which sits beaten open with the guts spilled across the surface. He grazes his fingertips over said guts. A lock of his hair. A few milk teeth saved from their tiny burial mounds. A few well worn letters with vacuous content, addressed to his mother and signed as ‘Me’. A frayed thread bracelet with chipped faux gems carved into charms. And a malachite letter opener, strangely familiar in make and size.
He picks up the small knife, the green blade glinting dully in the Luna light. It’s still sharp, even after all these years.
Where he expects rage, he feels an unending chill. That cold stone in his chest weighs heavily and drags his insides to the pits of his belly.
Spectral hands wrap around his throat and constricts his breath. He makes an odd choked noise, eyes watering from the pain. A rogue thought creeps into the fore of his mind.
He leaves quickly and quietly. The malachite knife, he tucks deep into his pocket.
Rinnie QAQ i believe in you QAQ
Thank you for the chapter!! ❤️❤️
YuY Rinnie appreciates your belief! Thank you for reading!! <33
🥲🥲🥲
I still think that this inflitration bs is sus af
LOLL we shall seee ;u; Thank you for reading! <33