A tense silence filled the room as both Yohan and Miell stared at Nyell in disbelief, their brains trying to process what their eyes saw and what their ears heard. Nothing seemed to make sense, yet Nyell appeared unfazed. He was so at ease that he let out a long, whiny sigh, talking to the wrathful ghost, whose face was identical to his, as if it were an old friend. To Yohan, the casualness between the two was even more frightening than the being's sudden appearance. Miell wasn't any better, either: he was utterly floored. It was something Nyell noticed, but did nothing to resolve. He had other matters weighing on his mind, some of which he considered far more pressing to take care of than his cellmates' emotional states. They wouldn't die for this much, anyway.
"So, you can talk now?" Nyell clicked his tongue, unsure whether he should be pleased or frightened by the news. His uncle's tongue could be pretty sharp, and he didn't particularly want to be on the receiving end of a lash-out. "Honestly, I didn't think I'd receive an answer."
"Then why did you ask?" Dangu replied matter-of-factly. "You'd better get used to it, and fast, as I have things to say. Being Allen's servant does come with its perks, like being able to control myself better. Otherwise, your friends would have collapsed the moment I opened my mouth. Neither has enough spiritual energy to resist my voice."
"Right, I remember the first time I heard it," Nyell grimaced, shivering. "On another note, I'm pretty sure Allen understood what I'm planning to do, but just to be sure…"
"He'd allow it," Dangu nodded, understanding what Nyell was probing for. "However, he ordered me to stay by your side and unleash my wrath if someone dared to try to put their hands on you. He's adamant about it. You can play bait all you want to draw the smugglers and buyers out on the auction, but not at the cost of your well-being. Even if it's a good opportunity, he'd rather wait for another one than allow any harm to befall you. It's non-negotiable."
"He's being overprotective," Nyell waved Dangu's concerns away. "My well-being isn't worth dozens of people's lives, and I can take a lot. I'll be fine."
"Overprotective?" Dangu raised an eyebrow. "I hope you do realize that he's been nothing but understanding with you. Werewolves are possessive of their mates, and he's no exception. He only pushes the feelings aside because he's rational enough to know when to act on his impulses and when not to, especially in your case."
Nyell pretended not to hear a word of what his uncle said, turning a deaf ear to everything that came out of his mouth. He also pretended not to notice when Yohan stared intently at him with a dropped jaw, thousands of questions twirling in his crimson eyes. It was no wonder he reacted that way. The Sun tribe was more than aware of the Black Moon tribe's hatred toward the White Moon tribe, and yet, Nyell's fated mate was their chief? And he had agreed to follow him to his territory and do him a favor, such as playing bait? It was hard to believe. He needed a few minutes to digest the information.
"Nyell…"
"Hm," Nyell lifted his head to look at Miell, who was surprisingly the first to regain his wits. Or maybe it wasn't that surprising. The beastman had good awareness, and he could tell Dangu was not a threat, although he still eyed him with suspicion and a hint of fear. He seemed to want to talk, but hesitated. Hence, Nyell encouraged him with a grin and a bit of teasing. "You've got something to say?"
"Well, yeah!" Miell cried out, exasperated. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, carefully asking, "Might I please know what, I mean, who is hovering behind you?"
"My chaperone?"
The beastman responded with a deadpan look, and Yohan had to muffle a snort. But at least, now, the mystery was solved. It was no wonder Nyell had been eerily calm since the beginning despite their precarious situation: he knew he had someone to watch his back and would get him out of this place if the need arose. It reassured Miell, somehow. He had honestly thought Nyell had lost his marbles when he agreed to follow their captors and handed himself on a silver platter. How stupid. He should have known better! Considering Nyell had an emergency plan already organized, he most likely had a way to escape in one piece. The relief washed over Miell like a tidal wave, and his taut nerves relaxed. He was not going to rot his life away as a plaything. Good.
But in the end, it didn't change the fact that the entity behind him was terrifying. Miell would very much like to know if it was a foe or an ally, and the same could be said for Yohan. Their instincts were screaming in alarms, regardless of how inoffensive the ghostly being presented itself. It definitely wasn't.
"He genuinely is my chaperone, though," Nyell pouted. "What else do you call someone who's been tasked with following you around and making sure you don't do something incredibly dumb? I swear, there's no trust left in this world…"
"I'm Dangu," the entity interrupted Nyell, seemingly having had enough of his blabbering. "A daemon at Allen's service. Nice to meet you."
"And, accessorily, my dead uncle," Nyell stopped messing around. Teasing these two was fun, but he couldn't do it eternally. "Not a long-lost twin, just my uncle. He's not shapeshifting, by the way. We just really look alike, enough to give some common acquaintances a heart attack. Anyway, that aside-"
"That aside?" Miell's mouth twitched as he cut off Nyell. Daemons were beings that weren't to be angered, and Dangu was Nyell's uncle? These types of ghosts weren't born out of nowhere, especially not the wrathful one. "Isn't this a huge deal?"
Nyell pursed his lips, obviously not desiring to bring up the subject, much less expand on it. His uncle's death still weighed heavily on his mind, and the same could be said for the elders of his tribe. He had been acting like it didn't matter to him, but in the end, it wasn't a matter he could easily brush off and be alright with. His mother was forever gone, and he had been robbed of a mortal life with his uncle, too.
"My story is nothing joyous, though," Dangu said, patting his nephew's shoulder as a sign of comfort. He used the exact words that Yohan had used to describe his current situation, underscoring the harsh reality of what had truly happened. "Let's just say that the elders of my tribe sold me out for the greater good, but the end result wasn't what they had expected, and a price had to be paid for their betrayal, although that price came decades later."
Miell got the cue and didn't probe further. Yohan furrowed his brow, but also didn't pursue the matter. All they needed to know was that the ghost was on their side; the history of his life or how he came to be wasn't important. At the very least, not for now. In any case, he was in servitude to Allen, and as such, wasn't a threat to them. That is, as long as they stayed in the White Moon tribe's chief's good graces.
"Still," Yohan goggled at Nyell, drawing an annoyed sigh out of him. "Fate messed with you real bad. Is your destined mate genuinely Allen? It's going to create chaos in the jungle once the news spreads."
"Could you please not remind me?"
"Why? We've got almost a week to kill before the auction, so let's discuss and keep ourselves busy until then. I've been stuck in this cell for months with only that bastard as occasional company. Talking will do me good, and maybe help with my sanity that has started to crumble."
The words were like a sharp dagger. Months. Yohan had been here for months, and Nyell couldn't fathom the horrors he had gone through. The young man was used to being mistreated and beaten to an inch of his life by his siblings. It hadn't been pink and bubbly in his tribe. Still, he hadn't been a plaything, unlike his time here. From the various marks littering his body, Nyell could tell the abuse the bastard inflicted on Yohan hadn't been any better. The purplish-red hickeys and bites on his chest stood out on his pale skin, leaving little to no room for imagination. It was clear what had happened to him. Even if the bastard seemed infatuated with him, considering the luxurious cell, it didn't mean Yohan was treated well, much less that his will was respected.
"In short," Nyell rolled his eyes, yielding, "you want gossip about my love life? Well, there's nothing much to say. I mean, the first thing I tried to do when I met Allen was punch him in the face. And, yes, that's when I learned Layla was crazily strong. Also, let me make one thing clear: I'm only going along with his whims 'cause I lost a bet. Our relationship is far from being lovey-dovey."
"You lost a bet…?" Yohan asked, his eyes widening in surprise. "You? Among all people?"
"My uncle, too, lost a bet!" Nyell dragged Dangu into the conversation, regardless of his thoughts on the matter. "At least, I'm not at Allen's beck and call like him!"
"I heard that. I'd rather follow Allen's orders and act in the shadows than play bait and behave like a meek little thing. I can't get that image out of my head."
"But hey! The fishing bore fruit in the end, so it's fine."
"Uh-huh."
"Oh, come on! We both know you have no pride. Who do you think I've inherited that from? I'm sure you wouldn't give a shit about acting like a cute, weak, little ghost to get whatever the heck you want."
"Well. Fair enough."
It was strange to bicker with his uncle and talk about his relationship with Allen to someone else, but Nyell did it. He kept talking and answering Yohan's questions when they were reasonable. Some, he pretended not to hear. Before long, Miell also participated in the discussion, bringing in anecdotes from his travels around the world. Both men tacitly decided to entertain Yohan until he fell asleep. Whether it was due to pity or the goodness of their hearts, it was hard to say. They simply wanted to distract the young man's mind so that he did not have to think about the scars he bore. They were aware he genuinely had desired for Nyell to end his life earlier because living like this was not living: it was being dead inside while his body kept on moving on its own. Even the prospect of maybe being freed of this hell seemed to be nothing more than a vain hope, a utopia that would never happen.
Perhaps Yohan was right. Perhaps, deep down, Nyell was too soft-hearted. To those who lived through hardships, he could not help but extend a helping hand. People's sorrows were too hard for him to bear, and he'd rather be the one to shoulder their pains.
But to those who caused others to suffer, Nyell had no mercy.