Part 2 : Old Man
Later...
When he returned—half-frozen, barely standing—the old man was boiling tea.
He didn't look up.
Old Man: "You're empty-handed,"
Null dropped to the floor, face blank.
Null: "There was nothing there."
The old man poured two cups. Set one in front of him.
Old Man: "Good."
Null looked at him, hollow-eyed.
Null: "That was the test?"
The old man stared at the rising steam.
Old Man: "That was the first step, You finally stopped expecting reward."
The next morning came with pain. The sun wasn't up yet, the cold bit deep.
The old man kicked the door open "OUT".
Null stumbled out barefooted dragging his feet.
Old Man: "Push the log to the river"
It was a tree trunk. Wet, heavy as guilt.
Null didn't complain.
But he looked at him— blank, silently
like saying "That's insane". But the Old Man didn't reply. Just pointed.
Later,
Null lay on the floor, the tea untouched.
Muscle trembling, Lips cracked. The Old Man stood over him.
Old Man:"Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we burn the rot out of you"
That Night—
Null jolted awake, sweat cold on his neck.
The room was dark—but not empty.
A soft shuffle of footsteps behind him. Breathing that wasn't his.
He turned.
A soft shuffle of footsteps behind him. Breathing that wasn't his.
He turned.
She stood there.
Her.
Hair wet from rain. That same coat. That same scent—violets and smoke.
She didn't speak. Just looked at him. Eyes full of sorrow.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
Null blinked.
She was gone.
In her place—them.
Five shadows. Guns aimed. Faces hidden by darkness. Silent. Unforgiving.
One of the them "You always knew this was gonna happen someday"
"What did you expected" Another said "Happy Ending..."
"No—" Null chocked backing away "I didn't—"
"This was our destiny" The third one said stepping forward.
Click
The sound of a hammer pulling back.
Null reached for his knife—
But his hand passed through thin air.
The floor beneath cracked open. Blood poured in from nowhere. He was back in the warehouse.
Rain falling. Lights flickering. Her voice again, louder this time—
"I'm sorry."
The fourth one said "She betrayed you... You've turned soft"
The last one stepped forward.
crouched in front of him.
Closer. Clearer.
Null blinked. It was him but young, cold and brutal.
Not like now—old, broken , betrayed...
Young Null: "Come back... Come back to before, when you were called ghost"
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang....
He clutched his head dropped to his knees
"STOPP...."
Silence.
He looked up.
He was alone in the cabin again.
The wind outside whispered through the paper walls.
He was shaking. Cold. Empty.
It was just a dream.
But the pain never felt like dreaming.
And so the training began.
No swords. No guns. No fancy assassin drills.
Just pointless, punishing labor:
Hauling rocks up the slope… only to haul them back down.
Chopping frozen wood until his knuckles split.
Running barefoot on gravel while the old man hurled insults like stones.
"Faster, deadweight."
"You're not dying fast enough."
"Even your scars are lazy."
---
At night, Null would collapse.
Hands blistered, back torn, breathing like gravel.
Sometimes the old man gave him rice.
Sometimes he just stared through the window at the stars and drank alone.
Null didn't ask questions. He was too broken to care.
Until one night
Null jolted up. Again from his nightmares, He opened his door.
There was still some time before sunrise. He stepped out of his small hut and saw the old man sitting by a bonfire.
Eyes closed, still as a statue — and yet, alert.
There was a presence about him. A warning in the silence.
Null stepped closer.
In a flash, a blade was at his throat.
He didn't see it move.
Didn't hear a step.
Just cold steel against his neck — and sweat soaking his skin.
He stood frozen, disbelief written across his face.
This frail old man… had moved faster than his eyes could follow.
Old Man (calmly):
"Oh. It's you. Never approach me like that again... or you'll die. Consider this your only warning."
Null swallowed and nodded. He sat beside him in silence for a moment, then finally asked:
Null:
"Who are you Old Man... really?"
Old Man (shrugging):
"Like you said — an old man."
Null:
"Don't bullshit me. I've spent my whole life as a killer.
Trained in every known assassination technique.
I've tracked ghosts through cities, hunted monsters in suits.
But you?
I couldn't find a single opening to strike.
And this place… even with all my experience, I'd never have found it unless you allowed it."
The old man smiled faintly, still staring into the flames.
Old Man:
"Hmph. Maybe you're not as stupid as you look."
The fire crackled low. Null sat across from him, barely able to lift his bowl.
"You ever train someone before?" he asked.
The old man didn't look up. "No."
"So why me?"
Silence.
Old Man: "I trained myself."
Null frowned. "You were a soldier?"
The old man poured himself sake. "Worse."
"...an assassin?"
The old man's eyes didn't move. But his voice dropped.
Old Man:
"I was a dog for men who thought they were gods."
Null leaned forward. Something passed between them—recognition, maybe.
Null glanced at his hand — a missing one — the bandaged stump twitching as if haunted.
"What happened to your hand? Mission gone wrong?"
Old Man (quietly):
"No. It was taken from me... so I could never teach. They considered me a threat"
Null: "What happened?"
The old man drank deep. "I outlived them."
Null didn't ask anything more.
Old Man:
"Enough about me. Go clean up. Seems I've gone easy on you lately."
Null didn't flinch. The work the old man gave him was harsh — brutal even —
but it dulled the voices in his head.
It kept the ghosts at bay…
At least, until night came.