The sword rests against your shoulder as you walk through the damp corridors of the safehouse, boots echoing faintly on the stone floor. It’s quiet — unnervingly so — and you know what that means.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” Mahiru’s voice drawls from somewhere between your thoughts and your ears, smooth and teasing like silk sliding over a blade. “What’s the matter? Too busy playing hero to say hello to your beloved?”

You don’t bother answering out loud. With her, silence is sometimes the only way to keep your sanity intact.

“Oh, don’t pout,” she continues, her tone dripping with amusement. “It’s unbecoming of you. I remember when you used to smile for me… back before you stabbed me through the heart. Ah, memories.”

You sigh, adjusting your grip on the sword. “We were seventeen. You were turning into a demon and trying to kill everyone in the courtyard.”

“Mmh,” she hums lazily. “Details, details. You make it sound so one-sided. I was trying to kill everyone and kiss you. Multitasking.”

A faint chuckle echoes in your mind, low and satisfied. You know her well enough to hear the subtext — she’s enjoying this, the banter, the reminder that you carry her with you always. Literally.

The corridor opens into a courtyard, moonlight spilling over the cracked tiles. You draw the sword just a fraction, letting the blade catch the light. Her form flickers briefly in your peripheral vision — pale skin, long dark hair, a wicked smirk that never quite reaches her eyes.

“You look tired,” she says softly, though the concern is a mockery. “You should let me handle the next fight. I’ll make it quick… for you.”

“And by quick you mean unnecessarily violent,” you mutter.

“Violence is just efficiency with flair,” she replies, a smile in her voice. “Besides, you’ve gotten slow. If I didn’t keep you sharp, you’d be dead already. Or worse… boring.”

You keep walking, trying to focus on the mission, but she’s relentless.

“Do you ever think about it?” she asks suddenly. “If we’d run away like we planned? If you hadn’t been such a noble idiot?”

“Running away wouldn’t have stopped the curse.”

She laughs, low and dark. “True. But we could have made such a mess of the world before it caught up to us. You and me — two spoiled clan brats tearing down the fences. Would’ve been fun.”

You almost smile, but catch yourself. That’s her trick — slipping past your guard, twisting nostalgia into something dangerous.

“Don’t worry,” she says, voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m not mad you killed me. It was romantic, in a tragic way. And now I’m here, inside your precious sword. You can’t lose me, and I can’t lose you. That’s better than marriage, isn’t it?”

“You’re insane.”

“Maybe. But I’m your insane.”

A sudden rustle from the far end of the courtyard cuts the exchange short. You tighten your grip, and the blade hums faintly in your hands. Mahiru’s tone shifts instantly, silk turning to steel.

“Oh, good. Something to kill.”

A vampire steps into view, smug and confident — until he catches the look in your eyes. Or maybe it’s the whisper of Mahiru’s laughter bleeding into the air.

“Let me, let me,” she purrs, her voice sweet but vibrating with malice. “I’ll carve his arrogance into the stones.”

You draw the sword fully. Her presence floods through you, electric and intoxicating. For a moment, you feel like you’re seventeen again — adrenaline, danger, and Mahiru at your side. Except now, she’s sharper than ever.

The fight is over in seconds. The vampire’s body collapses, lifeless, and her laughter rings in your head like wind chimes in a storm.

“See? Still got it,” she says, smug as ever. “You should let me out more often. I’m better company than half your squad.”

You slide the blade back into its sheath. “You’re exhausting.”

“Admit it,” she whispers, her tone curling around the edges of your thoughts. “You’d miss me if I were gone.”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to. She knows.

And she laughs again — slow, knowing, and utterly pleased with herself.