The cave reeked of waste and damp stone, its dim interior barely lit by the flickering torches nailed to the cracked pillars—pillars that strained to keep the ceiling from collapsing under the weight of time and neglect.
In one shadowed corner of the cavern, the rest materials slumbered, silent and still. But not all of them. A few remained awake, wary. The guard hadn't returned yet—still lurking around the bend, waiting to punish any fool desperate enough to attempt an escape.
Cheng sat beside the albino girl. Her violet eyes flicked away, refusing to meet his.
"So… do I know you?" Cheng's voice came out hoarse, hesitant—dry like cracked parchment.
"Do you not remember?"
Her response wiped the expression from his face, leaving only a deadpan stare, as if she'd just announced something painfully obvious.
"Well... I don't quite understand why or how Brother Cheng lost all memory of me. It wounds a lady's heart, truly." She gave him a teasing smirk. "We're from the same batch, if I recall. Weren't you the village lunatic—always ranting about being a Phantasmael or whatever that meant? Anyway, I never really talked to you. I was kept sheltered—should be obvious from the way I look , right?" pointing at her violet coloured eyes.
She paused, eyes drifting toward the torchlight before continuing with a shrug.
"Last year, during the Mid-Autumn Twin Spirits Festival, the mountain bandits descended from Yellow Peak. They raided the village—took the women and children to sell. Master bought us. That's it. Simple as that."
Cheng sat in silence, trying to make sense of the flood of memories he didn't have. Every word she spoke added more fog than clarity.
Me, a lunatic? he thought. Is that my defect? And what in the hells is a Phantasmael? I don't even have the faintest clue...
He sank deeper into his thoughts, unintentionally locking eyes with the girl longer than was polite. Her discomfort became visibly apparent. Still, Cheng noticed—and hesitated. She seemed to be the only person he could trust, or at least speak to, for now.
Should he apologize? No—that might make him look weak. Compliment her? No, that'd seem like he was making a move. He wasn't. Sure, she was... well, attractive in her own odd way, but that wasn't the point. His priority now was survival. Understanding.