Kael walked along the outskirts of the city as the sun bled into the horizon, its crimson light setting fire to the rooftops and gilding the old stone walls with fading brilliance. Each step carried weight, as though his body dragged chains unseen. Every alley he passed, every lingering gaze that followed him out of the city pressed against his back like invisible hands.
The Affection System pulsed faintly beneath his skin, a rhythm he was beginning to recognize—like the beat of a second heart, reminding him that his curse was never silent, never merciful. Even with his hood drawn low and the crude mask covering his face, the occasional flicker of attention brushed against him like sparks in dry straw: a merchant's curious glance, a child's fleeting smile, a guard's sudden pause.
The system whispered to him in subtle ways: a tremor in his chest, a flicker of warmth on his skin, a faint tightening in his temples. He was learning to ignore it, but the constant thrum gnawed at the edges of his sanity.
"The city's no longer safe…" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.
Ahead, past the walls and the ragged wooden watchtowers, the forest loomed. Its canopy stretched into the sky like a fortress of shadows, thick and unyielding. The last rays of sunlight clung to the treetops, and already the spaces between the trunks yawned with blackness.
Kael hesitated.
The forest promised solitude, and solitude meant survival. But solitude also meant danger. Wild animals prowled there, and worse—things not entirely beast nor human, lurking at the edge of civilization. He clenched his fists. Better those dangers than the eyes of the city.
He stepped into the trees.
The air changed immediately. It was colder, wetter, filled with the earthy musk of moss and rot. His boots sank slightly into the soil, muffling his footsteps, but every crack of a twig seemed loud as a shout. Branches clawed at his hood as if the forest itself tried to strip away his disguise.
Kael's eyes flicked constantly to the shadows. Once, he swore he saw a pair of eyes glinting at him from a thicket. He froze, heart pounding, but when he blinked, they were gone. Another time, he heard the snapping of something heavy in the underbrush, far too deliberate for the wind. He drew a shard of metal from his belt, the only weapon he had, and advanced slowly.
The Affection System pulsed.
Kael stiffened. There was no one here, no human at least—so why did the system stir? A faint ripple coursed through his veins, as though the forest itself had noticed him. He reached a stream that wound between stones, the surface trembling with reflected moonlight. Leaning over it, he saw his face—hidden by the mask, yet still… the water shimmered unnaturally, as if his beauty leaked through even the disguise. For a fleeting moment, he thought he saw another version of himself staring back—more radiant, more terrifying, with eyes that seemed to hunger.
He staggered back from the stream, chest tight.
"Even here…?" he whispered. "Even in silence, I'm never free."
The forest grew denser as he pushed deeper. Hours passed—he could no longer see the glow of the city behind him, only endless trunks rising like pillars in a cathedral of darkness. His breath fogged in the cooling air. Fatigue gnawed at him, but he pressed on, searching. A shelter, a hiding place. Something to serve as a base.
At last, he found it: a rocky formation, hunched like a crouching beast, its flank torn open to reveal a dark cave-mouth half-hidden by tangled roots. The entrance was narrow, almost invisible unless one approached directly. Kael crouched, scanning the surroundings—no footprints, no recent signs of use. The system was quiet. No eyes were on him.
"This could work," he whispered, voice hoarse.
He slipped inside.
The air was colder here, damp with the smell of stone and stagnant water. The cave stretched farther back than he expected, its walls jagged and uneven, but stable. A shaft in the ceiling let in a ribbon of moonlight, illuminating dust motes that drifted like tiny ghosts. Water dripped slowly from a stalactite, each drop echoing in the stillness.
Kael's instincts sharpened. He moved along the wall, checking every shadowed corner, every crevice. Once, a bat erupted from the ceiling and he nearly drew his blade before realizing what it was. Other than that, the cave was empty.
He let himself exhale.
"Perfect."
It was no palace. The floor was hard, the air chill. But it was hidden, defensible, and his alone. He explored deeper, noting rocky ledges that could serve as shelves, hollows where supplies could be stashed. One corner was flat enough to serve as a bed if padded with leaves.
"This will be my refuge. My fortress."
Already, his mind spun with plans. He would need traps—branches stacked by the entrance to crackle if stepped on, stones arranged to tumble at the lightest touch. He would forage what he could, steal what he must. The city had taught him to survive on scraps. The forest would teach him more.
He sat on a cold stone ledge, pulling his hood lower, staring into the cave's depths.
Memories bled into him—the empty nights of his childhood, his mother's harsh lessons, the cold streets where hunger gnawed more viciously than any beast. He had always been alone. Perhaps Aphrodite's curse was only the final confirmation of what he had been destined for all along.
But even isolation carried weight. His curse was not silence. The Affection System thrummed faintly, a reminder that the world would never let him forget his beauty, never let him be ordinary. His chest tightened at the thought: if he misused it, if he lost control, people would come. They always came.
Kael pressed his palms together, eyes fixed on the slit of moonlight above.
"I need patience," he whispered. "Patience, and strength."
He rose, pacing the cave, imagining it not as a prison but as a cocoon. Here he would train. Here he would learn to control the pulses that flowed into him, to shape them into weapons instead of chains. Here he would turn beauty into survival.
His gaze hardened.
"The Zombie Emperor has lived three thousand years," he said aloud, voice echoing softly. "He is immortal, indifferent, untouchable. And I… I am nothing. But nothing can learn. Nothing can sharpen itself. And even nothing can become dangerous."
The cave accepted his words with silence.
Kael built a rough bed from leaves and branches scavenged outside, then stacked stones at the entrance, crude alarms in case of intrusion. His movements were steady, precise, a thief's resourcefulness guiding him. Soon, the cave resembled not just shelter, but a beginning.
Finally, he sat against the wall, exhaustion washing over him. His eyelids grew heavy, but his thoughts did not still. The mission was impossible: impregnate the Zombie Emperor. Three years. No allies. No safety. Only this curse that twisted love into power, beauty into doom.
But Kael knew one truth: survival had always been his greatest skill.
He closed his eyes as the moon hung high outside. The forest whispered beyond the cave, alive with nocturnal sounds. Inside, Kael rested at last, alone in the darkness. Not safe—never safe—but hidden.
And so began the first night of his new life.