Arno, inhabiting Zhou Fang's body, gently scooped Mei into his arms. A soft chuckle escaped him as he playfully pinched the tip of her nose. Mei scrunched her face, rubbing her nose with a theatrical pout. "Don't do that, it hurts," she protested, though her eyes sparkled. She delivered a light, ineffective punch to his shoulder before wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face against him, a contented smile visible despite her feigned annoyance.
He looked down at her smiling face nestled against his chest. An unexpected thought surfaced, clear and intrusive: "I must protect this smile." A ripple of foreign emotion, warm and insistent, flowed through him. "His memories... they're affecting me. Even though I overpowered his soul completely in the Merger, some lingering essence remains. "It's like... I want to see her happy always. Was that his deepest wish too?"
Carefully, he began to walk. The worn wooden floorboards groaned and creaked loudly under each step, the sound echoing in the small space. His gaze swept the apartment. Cracks spiderwebbed across walls where cheap paint had flaked away, revealing grimy plaster beneath. Most of the ceiling lights were broken or burnt out; the few functioning bulbs cast weak, yellow pools of light that struggled against the pervasive gloom, leaving deep shadows in the corners. Doors hung askew on broken hinges, or were missing entirely, offering no privacy to the meager rooms.
"How can anyone live in a place this derelict?" he pondered, a flicker of something akin to respect cutting through his usual detachment. "It's worse than the prisons I've seen. Surviving here for years, raising a child... Zhou Fang deserved more." His thoughts quieted as he glanced at Mei; her breathing had slowed, and she'd fallen asleep against his shoulder, her small form trusting and heavy. He instinctively stroked her vibrant orange hair as he carried her towards the bedroom.
The bedroom doorway stood empty, a dark rectangle. Inside, the darkness was absolute; no light fixture worked here. The air hung thick and stiflingly hot. There was no bed, only a thin, frayed sheet spread directly on the floorboards, which were themselves gritty with ingrained dirt. The room's single window was tightly shut, trapping the oppressive heat. He knelt, lowering Mei's sleeping form onto the sheet as gently as possible. The heat was unbearable. He rose and moved to the window, grasping the grimy frame. It resisted, warped shut by age and neglect. Applying firm pressure, he forced it upwards with a protesting screech of wood on wood. A rush of cool night air immediately flowed into the room, carrying the distant sounds of the city.
His eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering in. Against the far wall stood a small, rickety wooden desk, its surface deeply scarred with cracks. A few tattered schoolbooks and a worn backpack lay atop it. "Zhou's bag," he realized, the knowledge surfacing from the absorbed memories. "He carried this to high school... until his parents died. An accident. Left alone at eight years old... with a three-month-old sister." The sheer weight of that responsibility settled on Arno with new clarity.
"Brother," Mei murmured, stirring slightly on the sheet, her voice thick with sleep. "What are you doing? Aren't you going to sleep yet?"
"Don't worry," he replied softly, turning back towards her. "I'll sleep after a little while. You go back to sleep." He offered her a reassuring smile, an expression that felt unfamiliar on his face yet strangely right.
"I don't wanna sleep if you're not sleeping," she insisted stubbornly, pushing herself up. She shuffled towards him, still half-asleep, and raised her arms silently, demanding to be held. Arno bent down, effortlessly lifting her small frame. She immediately wrapped her arms and legs around him, resting her head on his shoulder. "If you don't sleep now," he reasoned gently, "you'll wake up late tomorrow. And sleeping late isn't good for your health."
"I don't care," Mei mumbled into his neck, her defiance already fading. "It's not like I have school to go to tomorrow... or friends to play with. I'm always at home... bored without you." Her sentence trailed off as sleep reclaimed her, her body going limp against him once more.
He felt a genuine chuckle rise in his throat. "Haha. She really is... such a cute girl," he murmured to the quiet room. *He was incredibly lucky to have a sister like her. Caring. Bright. That's why protecting her consumed his thoughts... why it bleeds into mine now.* He carried her back to the sheet and carefully laid her down. He then stretched out beside her on the thin covering. Even in sleep, Mei instinctively curled towards him, one small arm draping across his chest. After a moment's hesitation, Arno carefully placed his own arm around her small shoulders. Outside, unseen stars shone in the night sky as brother and sister slept, a fragile peace settling over the rundown apartment.
Morning arrived, sunlight streaming through the grimy window, painting bright stripes on the dusty floor. Arno awoke. Mei still slept soundly, clinging to his side. He carefully began to extricate himself, moving with deliberate slowness to avoid disturbing her. Despite his care, she stirred, eyelids fluttering before slowly opening, revealing sleepy, dark eyes.
"Sorry," he said immediately, his voice low. "Did I wake you?"
"No," she yawned, stretching like a small cat. "You didn't wake me. You don't have to apologize, brother." She sat up, rubbing her eyes. "You can take a bath. I'll make breakfast... if there's something to make." She offered him a hopeful, slightly uncertain smile.
Arno nodded. Mei padded off towards the tiny kitchen area. He headed towards the bathroom – a cramped, claustrophobic space barely large enough to turn around, featuring a chipped, shallow tub. He bathed quickly in cold water, the unfamiliar routine feeling mundane, then pulled on Zhou's worn clothes. He found Mei in the kitchen, which was little more than a corner of the main room dominated by a rust-stained sink, a single cold water tap, and a small, ancient hotplate. A rickety table and two mismatched chairs completed the setup. He sat down at the table.
Mei placed two chipped plates on the table. On each sat a single slice of plain, slightly stale bread and a small cup of steaming milk. "We only had some bread and milk left," she explained, sitting opposite him. "I boiled the milk. Eat up."
They ate in companionable silence, the simple meal consumed quickly. When they finished, Mei started gathering the plates. "Let me help you," Arno offered, rising. Together, they cleaned the few dishes in the rusty sink. Playfully, while her hands were soapy, he dabbed a small bubble of suds onto the top of her head.
"Hey! Don't do that!" she protested, laughing despite herself as she splashed water from the sink to rinse the soap away. She flicked droplets back at him playfully.
"Sorry about that," he grinned, the expression still feeling novel. Once the dishes were dried and put away, he straightened. "I'm going out, Mei."
Her smile faded instantly, replaced by disappointment. "What? Can't you play with me? I'm always alone and bored."
"Sorry," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "I have something to do today. It's important."
"If you wanna go, then go," she replied, turning away slightly, her voice small.
"Don't be mad," he coaxed. "I promise to buy you a toy when I come back."
She turned back, skepticism warring with hope in her eyes. "Do you have enough money to buy me a toy?"
"Maybe," he shrugged, offering a reassuring smile. "If I do, I'll buy you one." With that, he stepped out into the hallway, closing the creaking door softly behind him.
Guided by Zhou Fang's ingrained memories, Arno navigated the bustling streets. The scale of the city was clearer in daylight; towering buildings of steel and shimmering glass soared overhead, a stark contrast to the squalor of the apartment. Sleek hover-cars whispered past, and streams of people flowed along the sidewalks – some in animated groups, others walking purposefully alone. Birdsong drifted down from rooftops and power lines. He walked with confidence, the map of the city and its customs embedded in his mind. *Today is the Awakening,* he confirmed. "He's sixteen years old today... in this body. Though my mind is far older."
After a walk of several minutes, he arrived. A colossal, modern structure rose before him, its facade a blend of polished concrete and vast, reflective glass panels. A steady stream of anxious-looking teenagers and their families flowed through the wide entrance. Arno joined them, stepping into a vast, brightly lit atrium. The interior matched the exterior's imposing grandeur – sleek surfaces, holographic displays, and the low hum of activity.
Crowds milled outside a series of closed doors. One by one, individuals were called inside; some emerged moments later looking utterly dejected, while others practically glowed with pride. Along the periphery, men and women in distinct uniforms stood behind small booths, actively engaging the teenagers and their parents.
Guild recruiters, Arno identified, accessing Zhou's knowledge. "Likely from minor guilds. They recruit en masse, offering immediate contracts regardless of Awakening rank... probably for decent upfront money." He ignored them, accepting a slip of paper with the number '29' printed on it from an attendant. He found an empty plastic chair in the crowded waiting area and settled in to wait.
Nearly two hours passed. Finally, a stern-faced woman in an official uniform pushed open one of the doors and called out, "Zhou Fang? Please come inside. It's your turn now."
Arno stood and entered the room. It was surprisingly large and starkly functional. Dominating the center was a massive, multifaceted crystal mounted on a pedestal, pulsating with a faint internal light.
"Please place your hand firmly on the evaluation crystal," the woman instructed, moving behind a console with a computer screen. "It will measure your innate Mana level and determine your class and rank. The results will display here." She gestured to the monitor.
Arno walked calmly towards the crystal. He raised Zhou Fang's hand and pressed his palm flat against its cool, smooth surface.
The crystal reacted instantly. A brilliant, blinding white light erupted from its core, filling the room. The intensity was shocking. Then, the light shifted, deepening rapidly into a seething, violent crimson. The glow intensified further, becoming almost liquid, radiating palpable power. The room began to tremble. The vibration wasn't confined to the room; the floor bucked violently, dust rained from the ceiling, and the tremor spread outwards. The very walls of the building groaned. The sensation was terrifyingly vast – it felt as if the entire *world* shook under the onslaught of pure, uncontrolled Mana erupting from the crystal and the boy touching it. People across the city, across the continent, even across the globe, snapped their heads up, an instinctive, primal awareness of the immense power surge hitting them.
The woman at the console recoiled, her eyes wide with utter shock and disbelief. On her monitor, the readings spiked wildly, error messages flashing crimson across the screen in a chaotic cascade. She frantically typed commands, her fingers trembling, trying to regain control of the overloaded system. For agonizing minutes, the violent shaking and the crystal's terrifying crimson glare continued. Finally, with a final shudder, the tremors subsided. The crystal's light dimmed to a dull, sullen red. The computer screen flickered, stabilized, and cleared.
The woman stared at the result displayed in stark, bold letters. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was a hoarse whisper, laced with residual shock: "Zhou Fang. Class: Assassin. Rank... S."