The temple was silent except for the sound of shallow breathing. Laine sat on the cold stone floor, staring at the little girl curled up in the corner. Her tiny frame was wrapped in a torn piece of cloth, hardly enough to fight the biting chill.
She stirred slightly, hugging herself tighter, her lips trembling as if whispering silent prayers in her sleep.
Behind his mask, Laine's chest tightened. He had seen corpses in alleys, people dying in the streets, children discarded like trash… but watching this girl suffer felt different. His own hunger was nothing compared to hers.
"…She won't last without food."
He stood slowly, careful not to wake her. His legs were weak, body still thin from endless starvation, but his eyes behind the mask were sharp now. The crimson glow at its center pulsed faintly, as though it, too, heard his words. The Berserker Sword rested heavy against his back, a reminder of the blood he had already spilled.
Laine stepped out of the broken temple, into the city.
---
The streets were alive with morning noise—merchants yelling, wagons rolling, children laughing as they chased each other. The air carried the smell of roasted bread, fried meat, and hot soup.
Laine's throat ached. His stomach twisted, but he forced himself forward. He wasn't looking for himself. He was looking for her.
Finally, he stopped at a food stall. The stall owner was a greasy man with a thick beard, wiping his hands on a dirty rag. His gaze froze at the sight of the masked figure before him.
"What do you want?" the man demanded.
Laine lowered his head slightly, his voice low, muffled by the mask.
"…Food. Something warm."
The man let out a harsh laugh.
"Food? Do you see yourself? You hide your face like a criminal and think I'll sell to you? Get lost."
Laine's fists clenched.
"…I'll pay later."
The man sneered, leaning over the counter.
"Later? Hah! Do you think this is a charity? People like you aren't even worth the crumbs on my floor. Crawl back to the gutter you came from, beggar."
A small crowd gathered, whispering, mocking.
"Who hides behind a mask at daylight?"
"Trash."
"Not for long."
The words stabbed into Laine's ears. He remembered the girl's frail figure, the way her arms hugged her ribs as if protecting what little warmth she had left.
His voice trembled.
"…Just give me the food."
The man shoved him back with a heavy hand.
"You deaf? No money, no food. Now leave, or I'll have the guards drag you away like the rat you are."
Something inside Laine snapped.
The mask pulsed. Its crimson eye flared open.
Time seemed to freeze.
Black chains erupted, wrapping around the man's arm. His scream shattered the market's laughter as his life essence was drained, pulled into Laine's veins like misty blood. The warmth flooded his starving body, sharp and terrifying.
The man collapsed against the counter, breathing but pale as death.
The crowd stepped back in horror.
"…Monster."
"What is he?"
"Demon!"
Laine ignored them. His masked face never moved, never showed emotion. His eyes were fixed only on the bread and meat lying on the counter. He picked it up silently, the mask still whispering in his mind.
"Hunger is not your weakness anymore. Hunger is your strength."
Without another word, Laine walked away, leaving fear in his wake.
---
When he returned to the temple, the girl was awake. She sat against the wall, rubbing her sleepy eyes, startled when she saw the masked figure step in.
"…You came back."
Laine placed the food in front of her and stepped back.
"Eat."
Her eyes widened. For a moment, she hesitated, as if afraid it was a dream. Then she grabbed the bread with both hands and bit into it desperately. Crumbs scattered, her small hands shaking as she tore through the meal like an animal.
Laine sat silently, the mask hiding his face, his crimson eye dim but watching. His chest felt heavy. She shouldn't have had to fight hunger like this. She shouldn't have had to live like he did.
When she finally slowed down, her cheeks puffed with food, she looked up at him shyly.
"…Thank you."
For a long silence, there was only the mask's hollow breath. Then, Laine's voice broke it.
"…What's your name?"
The girl blinked. Then, with a small, hesitant smile, she answered softly.
"…Airi."
Behind the mask, his lips formed the word.
"Airi…"
The sound of her name filled the empty temple. For the first time in his cursed life, the whispers of the mask were drowned out—not by fear, not by hunger—but by a fragile voice.
And in that single moment, Laine realized—no matter how much of a monster the world saw him as, for this one child, he wanted to be something else.