The Wolves had grown used to blades and bullets. The clang of steel, the roar of gunfire, the sting of blood—these were familiar companions. But poison was different. Poison was betrayal made liquid.
It began with food.
Ayu had scavenged a loaf from a frightened vendor who shoved it into her hands for free, too terrified to meet her eyes. She broke the bread, handed half to Luv, and only when the first bite touched her tongue did she taste the bitterness.
She spat instantly, her instincts sharper than most. Luv was already crushing the loaf beneath his boot, his eyes narrowing at the faint purple stain within.
"They're changing tactics," Ayu muttered, wiping her mouth.
"Cowards," Luv said coldly, though he didn't miss the fact that his hands shook—barely noticeable, but real.
The second attempt came days later. They found a water cask in a deserted safehouse. Luv tested it first, dipping a silver coin. When it darkened to black, Ayu swore, her voice low and furious.
"They're trying to make the city itself our enemy. No blade, no gunfire—just rot from the inside."
But what shook her most wasn't the poison. It was the silence. No bodies charging at them. No war cries. Only shadows that left traps like whispers, watching from places unseen.
On the fourth night, Ayu woke to coughing.
Luv.
He sat against the wall, blood trailing from his lips. She rushed to him, panic tightening her chest. "What—what happened? Did you drink something—?"
He raised a hand to silence her. "Knife. A scratch." He pulled his shirt aside, revealing a shallow cut on his ribs—already blackening at the edges.
Ayu's heart stopped.
"Poisoned blade."
She tore through their packs with frantic hands, searching for anything—charcoal, herbs, bandages. She pressed cloth to the wound, her jade-like skin pale, her hands shaking.
"Don't you dare die on me," she whispered, voice cracking. "Not like this. Not like some—some rat's trick."
Luv's dark eyes softened, just for a moment. "Then keep me alive."
For three nights, Ayu fought the poison. She brewed foul concoctions from scavenged plants, forced bitter liquid past his lips, burned the wound with a heated knife while he gritted his teeth in silence.
He survived. But the scar remained, jagged and black like a brand.
And something in Ayu changed.
The girl who had once laughed at danger now carried a new fire—a hatred not for blades, but for tricks. For cowards who struck from shadows with venom instead of courage.
When the next assassin came—silent, cloaked, dagger dripping with toxins—Ayu didn't hesitate.
She broke his wrist before he could strike, shoved the poisoned blade back into his throat, and watched without blinking as the man collapsed, choking on his own weapon.
Her jade-like face was expressionless. Her beautiful eyes, once so full of light, reflected only the corpse.
Far above, the watcher in black smiled once more.
"Yes," he whispered. "Hate is better than fear. Let it eat her alive."
The poison was never meant to kill Luv.
It was meant to change her.