Book One – Chapter 15

At the time, he had let it pass. Too much had been happening. Their first nights together, his mind drowning in exhaustion, raw frustration, and the bitter wreckage of his split with Tria. He had not questioned it. Had not given it space to linger. But now — Now, it clawed at him. Had Harrow seen it, too?

Yu stared at his reflection, a sickening thought taking root. Did everyone see it?

The idea that he had spent his entire life looking like some gaudy piece of metal made his stomach churn all over again. His mind clawed through old memories, replaying every conversation, every glance, every offhand remark. Had there been hints? Had others noticed? Had they known — and simply never said a word? Not because it was not there, but because it was just another layer of weird and wrong draped over him.

“Fuck this shit.”

He had never wanted to stand out more than he already did. Being a cripple was one thing. A bastard another. But a walking spectacle? A freak that shimmered, screaming for attention worse than a female in full mating plumage?

Well. If he stuck with this guild job, at least he would never have to see another fina ever again.

Yu exhaled sharply, dragging an arm down his face.

Yesterday, he had arrived.

“This is an exception,” Bubs had said about the food.

In some way, this applied to more than the food. It applied to the entire night.

Yesterday, Yu had arrived as a traveller. He had been a guest. Today, he was a guard. Supposedly. He was sure he had already shattered any chance of making a good impression. He should feel something about that – guilt, frustration, embarrassment – but mostly, he just felt done. Ready to give up.

But … then what?

Where would he go?

What would he do?

What else could he do?

Yu let out a slow, shuddering breath. His eyes flicked back to the warped reflection in the mirror. At least he had scrubbed off the filth. He could go downstairs. Force himself to eat. But the thought of food made his stomach lurch, his throat clench.

Instead, he sat down and started preening his feathers, if only to steady himself. A fixed pattern. A familiar motion. Something that required no thought at all.