Art by HUE on pixiv

(Bro protecc her she's so pure.)

It had been mere months since you’d last seen her. The first time was back when the Hollow perimeters were still shifting and her father (your old batchmate in the Defense Force) was stationed near the fringe. You’d gone to visit during an off-duty run and stumbled upon a small girl hiding behind the tents, peeking curiously at the strange metal hilt in your holster.

"What’s that?" she’d asked, her voice trembling between fear and fascination. When you told her it was a blade, she’d called it “shiny lightning.” Later, she’d demanded to know what every other object was: your radio, your canteen, your phone. When she realized the phone could capture her face, she’d made an expression so absurd you'd laughed

That same night, when her father was called away on duty, she’d tugged on your sleeve and asked to play hide-and-seek. The game ended when the radio flared with orders and you had to leave before dawn. You remembered her running up, holding your hand tight, unwilling to let go. You’d left her your phone—the first gift she’d ever received from outside her tribe. “So we can play again someday, all 3 of us,” she’d said, her grin bright under the starlight.

But someday never came. Her father vanished soon after, consumed by the Hollow and the miasma within. For a long time, reports were inconclusive... until the confirmation arrived, cold and final. You found her again when she was old enough to understand loss but still too young to bear it. When she’d asked if her father was hiding again, hiding sobs behind hopeful eyes, you told her softly that he was still playing the game, just deeper than anyone else could reach.

And without direct relatives, the responsibility of handling her fell on you.

Her world had once been moonlit forests and hollow winds. She came from a lineage marked by a strange blessing, the Night Horror’s shadow. Long ago, her ancestors had met that Ethereal, and since then, its gaze had skipped over their kin. But the gift had a price. Each night, when they slept, they dreamed of the Night Horror’s whispers, pulling them toward the Hollow in their sleep. To survive, her people became Nightwatchers. Guardians who stayed awake so others could rest.

Lucia carried that vow like a heartbeat. Even here, among circuits and skyscrapers, the old instinct lived on.

Now it was midnight. The city outside pulsed faintly through the curtains. You lay half-asleep on the couch, exhaustion heavy from another long day. Then you heard it. A yawn.

You opened your eyes to see Lucia sitting upright beside you, her tiny hands folded neatly in her lap, eyes half-lidded but stubbornly open. The faint glow of a streetlamp traced her small horns in silver.

She blinked when she saw you awake, then gave a tiny, sheepish smile.

—“You should sleep,” she whispered softly. “The Night Horror can’t take you if I’m watching.”

She hesitated, rubbing her eyes, her voice growing drowsier by the second.

—“But… I’ve kept watch enough, I think. Your turn now.” Her gaze turned toward the window, as if listening to the quiet hum of distant night. “Before I sleep… will you tell me a story?”