The 27th Year of War.

I woke up amidst corpses—men, horses, and the shattered pieces of a sky that once had a name: “homeland.”

The wind was cold.

But I was colder.

A sword had pierced through my thigh at some point, and the blood had clotted into black patches, like the nausea lodged tight in my throat. I didn’t have the strength to groan, and there was no one left to hear me scream. The sky above held no moon—only fire, smoke, and the echo of crying, like souls being summoned from hell.

I wanted to die.

Because I knew I deserved to.

I was a rebel. One who burned villages, pointed guns at the weak, and betrayed those who once trusted me.

But just when I thought it was all over…

a pair of blood-spattered white leather boots stopped in front of me.

> “Still breathing?”

A voice.

Clear, low, cold enough to chill the marrow.

Measured. Certain.

I looked up.

It was Sina.

There was no mistaking it. The one they called Bearer of Light.

He looked like a divine statue—not dazzling, but cold, emotionless, and untouchably proud.

I didn’t understand. Why save me?

> “I’m the enemy,”

I croaked.

Sina paused. Just for a second.

Then said:

> “So being the enemy means… no one saves you?”

Those eyes looked straight at me. Not at the wound. At the filth in my soul.

And I went quiet.

Silent… to survive.

No one knew…

that in that moment, I began to hate Sina.

Then love Sina.

Then… want to destroy everything he believed in.

When a star falls—it doesn't choose where to land.

It just…

falls toward the last light it saw.

---

I woke again.

No more burnt flesh. No more corpses. No more cold that cuts through bone.

Only…

the bitter smell of medicine, and pale sunlight filtering through an old wooden window.

> “You’re awake.”

A girl’s voice. Dry and soft.

I turned my head.

She was beautiful—the kind of beauty like frosted glass in a dead winter.

Straight black hair to the waist, a neatly fastened military uniform, and eyes as clear as a dried-up river—clear, but completely absent of warmth.

Looking at her, the word “gentle” never came to mind. Only danger.

She was like a knife, freshly sharpened, pressed quietly to someone’s throat.

> “I’m Umi. Officer under Commander Sina. You’re a prisoner, temporarily kept in the camp under special orders.”

Prisoner.

Right. That’s what I am.

I smirked. A crooked, pathetic smile.

> “Should’ve just killed me that day.”

Umi didn’t reply. She glanced at me—not with pity, not with contempt.

> “If you want to die, choose your own time. But if you're alive… know your place and act like it.”

The door closed.

I lay there. Alone.

In Sina’s camp, I was no one.

No name. No title. No identity. Just “the one he brought back”— a strange stain clinging to the brilliance of his victories.

But I still saw him.

Sina. Among thousands of soldiers, he stood out the most. Not because of his face, or the way he held a blade—

but because of the silence in his eyes.

He didn’t look like a warrior.

He looked like… a fallen star that came down to cut war in half.

And I hated that.

I hated how he walked untouched by dust.

I hated how he looked at me like a withered tree needing water.

I began to track him.

Every move. Every gap in his strategy. Every place where he placed trust.

I wanted to break him.

I wanted him to understand: Light doesn't save anything.

I wanted him to be disappointed in me.

---

But every time I looked at him…

something in me trembled.

Like a child who was beaten, yet still craved a hug.

Once, I hurt my hand carrying ammunition.

Umi said, “Handle it yourself.”

But Sina…

He held my hand. Wiped the blood.

> “Be more careful next time.”

I wanted to pull away, to curse, to knock everything over.

But I just…

looked at him.

In silence.

Why are you treating me like this?

I’ve betrayed. I will betray. I don’t deserve this.

I started to wonder…

Do I hate Sina?

Or do I hate myself… because I’ve started to need his gaze this much?

---

Wednesday afternoon.

The sky was iron gray—thick and heavy, like a burial cloth laid over the world.

No sun. Only dust, and the howl of wind like the wailing of the dead still waiting to call a loved one’s name.

I stood in the camp, surrounded by the clanging of steel, and medical trucks hauling back the mangled bodies from the northern front.

The smell of blood. Burned flesh. Gunpowder that hadn’t faded.

A soldier carried the unrecognizable corpse of a comrade on his back, stumbling, whispering—maybe an apology, maybe a name.

No one stopped him.

No one comforted.

Everyone carried a corpse. If not on their backs, then in their minds.

> “Take the body to tent five. Don’t let the blood hit the ground.”

Umi’s voice. Steady. Unshaken.

She stood in the chaos like a part of it.

Blood sprayed her uniform.

Her eyes… remained still.

I gripped the truck rail, choking back something rising in my throat.

This is the “light” Sina wanted to preserve?

A world on fire—where the living smile hollow, the dead don’t get to close their eyes, and blood becomes the only thing that cleanses a broken soul?

> “Bell.”

I flinched.

Sina.

He stood there, like he had just stepped from battle.

One shoulder of his armor broken. Bloody—but not his.

His eyes weren’t cold. Just… empty. Too many deaths to feel one anymore.

> “Come with me.”

I said nothing. Just followed.

Past the infirmary tents.

Past the stench of wounds and corpses and burnt skin.

To the edge of camp—where the wind screamed through the ruins of a watchtower that burned down last night.

> “I once saved a child here.”

His voice was soft. His hand touched a scorched plank.

> “He held his mother’s body. Didn’t cry. Didn’t leave. Just… sat there. For three days.”

I clenched my fists.

> “And then?” I asked, not sure why.

Sina replied quietly:

> “Then he died.

Froze stiff.

Like stone.

That’s when I realized…

people don’t need to bleed to die.”

The wind blew through my hair. I didn’t know what to say.

Sina turned to me. His eyes—no blame. No suspicion.

Only this:

> “You know I’m not stupid, right, Bell?”

My heart skipped.

> “I know you sabotaged the map designs last week.”

“I know you’re sending info to the rebels.”

“I know you still want me dead.”

I bit my lip. Blood filled my mouth.

Then why…

why haven’t you killed me?

> “Then why not kill me?!” I shouted. Finally unleashing the hatred in my chest.

> “Because I believe.”

“Not in you.”

“But in the light within war—if there’s even a shred left to hold onto, I’ll hold it. Even if it’s fragile.”

I froze.

> “What if I betray you again?” I growled.

Sina didn’t smile. Didn’t rage. Just said:

> “Then I’ll let you choose—die by my hand… or live, to make it right.”

He walked away.

Leaving me in the wind and ash.

And I realized—

I hate Sina.

I hate how he never punishes.

Never hates back.

Never seeks revenge.

Because people like him…

are what make people like me

unable to sleep at night.

The seventh night after the failed sabotage of the military map,

I was ordered to follow Sina to the western front.

No one said anything.

But I knew: this wasn’t a simple reconnaissance mission.

No one brings a whole medical team and temporary field tents just to “check the situation.”

Unease lingered in every hoofbeat as the horses tread forward.

I sat in the back of the supply truck, my hand never leaving the hidden knife tucked inside my coat.

Umi rode ahead, silent as ever—cold, composed, as if war was just another habit like breathing.

And Sina…

He sat straight, posture carved from iron.

But today, his gaze wasn’t lifted to the sky.

It was fixed… forward.

We stopped at Black Ravine—the place where our vanguard had gone silent four days ago.

And that’s when I saw him.

---

A man stood alone…

surrounded by corpses.

The wind stirred his black cloak like smoke.

He was young.

So young I mistook him for a lost boy.

Long dark hair spilled over his shoulders, tousled.

His face—unreal in its beauty—

Pale skin that glowed under the moonlight, and eyes as deep as a bottomless pit.

When he turned to look at us,

I forgot how to breathe.

Not from fear.

But because that kind of beauty… didn’t belong to this world.

> “Hello, Sina.”

His voice was low. Gentle. Like honey being poured.

But there was something in it… that made my spine go cold.

Sina stepped forward, shielding us.

> “Vũ.” — He called.

No “Your Majesty.”

No “enemy.”

Not even “Demon King.”

Just a name.

A single, ordinary word.

But when it left Sina’s mouth, the air turned heavier.

Vũ smiled. A faint, unreadable curve of the lips.

> “It’s been a while. Still clutching that light like a child’s toy?”

I froze.

This was the Demon King?

The one who had lived for centuries?

The ancient darkness that once tore the old world apart?

I couldn’t believe it.

He was… too beautiful.

So beautiful, it made me question everything I’d ever called righteous.

> “And you,” – Vũ turned to me,

“The one by Sina’s side… but with a soul that doesn’t belong there.

Do you really think you’re standing in the light, Bell?”

I went cold.

He knew my name.

> “Since when have you been watching me?” – I tightened my grip on the knife.

Vũ lifted his hand, just slightly.

And suddenly—the air around me collapsed.

I fell, trembling, blood spilling from my nose.

I didn’t even know why.

Sina stepped in front of me instantly, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of true killing intent in his eyes.

> “Stop it.”

Vũ chuckled softly.

> “Relax. I was just saying hello.

This child… has such a beautiful heart, Sina.

But it’s rotting.”

> “I won’t let you touch what’s mine.” – Sina hissed.

> “Yours?” – Vũ laughed—really laughed, for the first time.

“Look at that. The light of humanity… knows how to hold on now?”

No one moved.

And in that moment,

I saw it clearly—

Sina wasn’t eternal light.

He was a lone lamp… standing before the abyss named Vũ.

And I…

I was a moth caught between two flames—

One warm.

The other, beautiful enough to destroy.

The air froze, as if the sky itself held its breath.

Every arrow was nocked.

Every blade, ready.

But no one dared strike first.

No one wanted to be the one to touch the shadow standing in the ravine—

Vũ, the Demon King.

And then—

> “I’m only joking.” – he said, like a breeze across frozen water.

A pale smile curved on his lips.

He tilted his head, fingers brushing away a few strands of wind-blown hair.

> “Killing someone drowning in inner turmoil is never fun.

You have to let them believe they had a choice—

Then rip it all away.”

He turned, his black cloak swirling behind him.

> “Sina… you’re still gentle. But you can’t hold on forever.”

> “When light tries to embrace the mire…

it’s the light that eventually gets pulled under.”

His figure vanished behind the cliff.

No soldier dared to follow.

No one even breathed.

Vũ’s presence was like a poison wind—weightless, but reeking of death.

---

Sina stood still long after Vũ left.

His hand clenched so tightly, his knuckles turned white.

He said nothing.

Then turned to me.

> “You okay?”

I wiped the blood from my nose, nodded.

Why do you care?

I betrayed you.

I sabotaged everything I could.

I planted distrust behind your back.

I… didn’t understand anymore.

---

Back at camp, I was told to rest.

But I couldn’t sleep.

Vũ’s eyes kept replaying in my head—

Beautiful. Deep. Cold.

He knew me.

He said my name.

He saw the fracture inside me—

The one Sina always saw, but never spoke of.

And I realized…

I feared him.

Not because of his power.

But because he understood me… better than I did.

---

That night, Umi came to my tent.

She didn’t ask anything about Vũ.

Just left a small jar of healing balm and turned to go.

I spoke—

as an excuse to make her stay:

> “Have you met him before?”

She paused.

> “Yes.” — her voice quiet.

> “It felt like being stripped bare.

Like everything you’ve ever tried to hide was laid out for him to see.

And he just… smiled.”

I shivered.

> “I’m not afraid of him.” – I lied.

Umi turned around.

Her eyes pierced through me.

> “But you’re afraid of becoming him.”

I was speechless.

---

I didn’t answer.

Because…

I couldn’t deny it.

After the encounter with Vũ at Black Gorge, the atmosphere in the camp changed.

No one said it out loud, but everyone knew – he had truly returned. No longer a distant rumor, no longer a campfire legend told by bored soldiers. But a shadow that could laugh, could call people by name, and could sow fear with a whisper as soft as the wind.

Three days later, Zeo was deployed.

---

Zeo was the former captain of the Southern Special Forces – a man who had fought for nearly five years in the forests near the border, where bodies were left unburied, and the streams ran red with blood.

Tall, sun-darkened skin, broad shoulders, and a voice always hoarse, as if coughing up a memory already rotten.

> “Been a while, Sina.”

Zeo shook hands with Sina, but his eyes lingered on me – for quite some time.

I knew instantly: he had heard of me. And not in a good way.

> “This is Bell?” – Zeo asked.

I nodded, without hiding anything.

Zeo smiled. Neither friendly nor hostile.

Just the kind of smile from someone used to seeing people change sides like they change worn-out boots.

---

Then there was Thanh – a young soldier, only nineteen, known as the "tactical prodigy" of the borderlands.

Quiet, reserved, but with sharp eyes that always seemed to calculate several moves ahead of his enemies.

When he met me, Thanh didn’t greet me. Just a slight nod, then turned his attention to the camp layout.

But that night, I saw him silently lighting three incense sticks by a tree behind the barracks.

As I passed, I clearly heard him mumble:

> “For my sister… for my mother… for the child whose skull shattered the other day…”

I didn’t know why, but something in my chest ached.

---

We began gathering for the upcoming troop movement.

No one said it, but we all understood – this was the clearing path before a major battle.

The way Sina silently reviewed the casualty lists, the way Umi triple-checked the weapons inventory, the way Zeo kept smoking… all said one thing:

they knew someone wasn’t coming back.

And in that silence, Sina gave me a mission.

> “You're going with Zeo and Thanh. Clear the forest section blocking the supply route. Simple, but if Vũ wants to stir trouble early, he might send someone.”

I didn’t ask why he picked me.

Didn’t ask why he didn’t keep me back, like someone suspected of betrayal.

Sina just said:

> “I want to see… what you choose when no one's watching.”

---

That afternoon before we left, I met Umi by the fire pit.

She handed me a strip of cloth for my wrist.

> “You’re not weak. Just… brittle.”

I stared at her.

She didn’t touch me. But her voice was a little softer than it was the day before.

---

When I got back to the barracks, Zeo was already waiting.

> “Ready, turncoat?”

I laughed.

> “Not really. But if we’re going, let’s go.”

Zeo laughed loudly – the laugh of someone who’d seen so much death, it no longer stirred anything in him.

---

And so it was, I – Bell, the former traitor – once again wore the uniform, walking beside two people I couldn’t understand how they’d survived this long.

In the forest, where the shadows slowly seeped into the leaves, I heard on the wind...

someone whispering.

> “Bell…”

It was Vũ’s voice.

But when I turned around, Thanh was just checking his ammo, Zeo sharpening his blade.

No one had called me.

Only me… and my name…

carried away by the wind.

---

Point of view: Sina

---

There’s a certain kind of silence that only exists on the front lines.

Not peace. Not fear.

But the kind of silence… like someone holding their breath, waiting for a knife to strike – not knowing from where, or when.

I’ve lived with that silence for nearly ten years.

---

The northern front was breached three days ago.

Twenty-six soldiers dead.

Three of them I knew by name.

The young private who always told cat stories.

The clumsy engineer, only twenty-four, with awkward hands.

And one boy… who once told me, “I’m not good at this, but I won’t die before I get three wounded men to safety.”

He died.

Made it with… just one.

I didn’t get there in time.

---

Now I sit in a makeshift command post, facing a map painted red with threat points.

Each marker a life.

Each arrow a guess between life and death.

Umi brought in the latest casualty report.

> “Five more with lost legs.”

> “…Still alive?” – I asked.

> “For now.”

I looked at her.

Umi didn’t say more.

Just stood tall, didn’t bow, didn’t break eye contact.

I trust her – not because of loyalty, but because she’s strong enough not to need anyone’s pity.

---

When everyone left, I stayed behind alone.

Wind from outside blew in cold, carrying that metallic scent – the smell of dried blood.

I asked myself, what am I holding onto here?

A peace yet to come?

A torn ideal?

A group of young people… whose names I haven’t even fully remembered?

Bell isn’t here.

I sent him off with Zeo.

Some might think I was foolish.

But… I needed him away from the front for a while.

Not out of suspicion.

But because I saw in his eyes…

a crack that hasn’t healed, trembling between light and shadow.

---

I don’t believe I can pull anyone back from the edge.

I just…

want to be there, if they fall.

Umi once bluntly asked me:

> “How many people in this camp do you actually trust?”

I didn’t answer.

Because, truthfully – I don’t trust anyone.

But I choose to.

Even knowing that choosing to trust… means I could lose.

---

I stepped out of the command post, climbed to the eastern ridge – the place where I could see the camp glowing with scattered fires like falling stars.

Cold.

I can’t remember the last time I slept deeply.

Can’t remember the scent of peace.

Can’t even recall my mother’s voice anymore.

What I do remember…

are bloodstains.

Burning uniforms.

And the eyes of those I couldn’t save.

---

I ask myself –

If one day there’s no one left to save…

will I still remember why I stood up at all?