The scent of scorched sugar and warm spice drifted through the street like a memory. It stopped Kai mid-step.
He turned his head and saw the stall nestled under the bend of an old archway, where cracked tiles hung like a sun-bleached curtain. A squat man, thick around the middle and wrapped in a grease-stained tunic, stood behind a rounded iron pan, flipping dough with a rusted hook.
A wooden sign dangled over his head:
Ginger Buns – Two for Fifteen. No Haggling. No Credit. No Trash.
Kai stepped toward the counter, already reaching into his pocket.
The vendor glanced at him—and scowled.
"You lost, kid?"
Kai held out the copper Lian had given him. "Just one."
The man snorted, looking him up and down. "Where's your master? Or you run off from the kitchens?"
Kai didn't answer. His hand remained outstretched.
The man grabbed a bun with tongs, wrapped it roughly in brown paper, and dropped it into Kai's hand like he was afraid it might bite him.
"Stay out of the noble lane," he muttered. "They'll cut that white mop right off your head if you stare too long."
Kai didn't respond. He turned away, bun in hand, the man's muttering fading into the noise of the crowd.
The walk back to Lian's neighborhood felt longer than it should have.
People didn't part for him the way they had earlier. With his hood pushed back, he wasn't just a kid. He was different. Pale. Unfamiliar. Easy to judge.
He kept his gaze forward, ignoring the glances and half-heard whispers.
Still, the feeling returned — like the weight of a second shadow. One that moved when he moved. A presence not close enough to see… but always there.
By the time he reached the familiar crooked step outside Lian's door, his grip on the ginger bun had gone rigid. The warmth had faded.
But he still held it like it meant something.
The door creaked open before he could knock.
Lian stood there, looking a little sleepy, a little surprised. "You're back!"
Kai didn't answer. He just pulled the wrapped bun from inside his tunic and held it out.
Lian's eyes lit up. "You remembered!"
Kai gave a small nod.
"You're weird," Lian said, grinning. "But… good weird."
He turned and called into the house, "Ma! He came back! And he brought ginger buns!"
A rare flicker of peace settled in Kai's chest. Just for a second.
Then—
BANG.
A single knock. Loud. Measured.
The warmth disappeared like smoke in rain.
The door hadn't even closed behind him before it was opened again—not by them, but for them.
Two figures stepped in.
Silver-trimmed robes. Gray sashes. Unsmiling faces.
The Dawning Blades Sect had arrived.
This time, there was no pretense. No invitation.
The tall man from earlier stepped forward, boots thudding softly against the wooden floor. His sharp eyes locked on Kai like a spear-tip.
"Kai Jin," he said flatly. "You are coming with us. Now."
Kai's eyes narrowed. "No."
Behind him, Lian's grin faded.
The woman stepped forward. Broader. Scarred. Her voice low and grinding. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."
"I didn't ask to be part of your sect," Kai said, voice like cold glass. "I didn't ask for anything."
"You don't need to ask," the man replied. "Master Yu gave the order. That's all that matters."
Lian's father rose from his stool, a wrench still in his hand. "You're threatening a guest in our house?"
The woman turned her head slowly. Her mouth didn't twitch, but her eyes sharpened.
"If you think a common house matters more than a Master's will," she said, "you should be careful what you hold dear."
A breath passed.
The room went quiet.
Kai stepped forward, shielding Lian behind him without a word.
"So that's what this is," he said. "A demand."
The man exhaled like it bored him. "A courtesy. We could have come sooner. Without knocking."
Lian looked up at Kai. "You don't have to—"
"Yes, he does," the woman cut in. "Unless he wants the next time we come to be less civil."
Kai looked at the ginger bun still in Lian's hands.
Still warm. Still whole.
"…Thank your mother for the food," he said quietly.
Then, to Lian, softer: "And don't forget the taste of kindness. Even if they try to teach you to forget."
He stepped past him, past the family, past the warmth.
The man opened the door without looking back.
Kai followed.
The door shut behind him.
And everything that had felt safe… was gone.