The Heart of Zero

As Shingin stepped out of the room, the cold wind carried with it the relentless patter of rain, mingling with the rustling leaves nearby. The air felt damp and oppressive. His fists clenched tightly, and despair gripped his heart. Every step he took seemed to drag Riyugi deeper into a situation she didn't deserve.

He glanced down at his soaked T-shirt, raindrops sliding off his face, and muttered under his breath, "Why must she see me at my weakest?"

Inside the room, Riyugi stood in the center, her drenched white uniform clinging tightly to her skin. Strands of wet hair framed her face as she bit her lower lip, her cheeks still tinged with the blush of embarrassment. Her gaze lingered on the slightly ajar door, her heart a jumble of emotions.

She trembled slightly, one hand instinctively crossing over her chest to conceal her damp silhouette. The room's dim, amber light cast her shadow on the wall behind her, its flicker mirroring her wavering thoughts. Her mind raced: How did things come to this?

The door creaked open again, and Shingin entered cautiously. Raindrops dripped from his hair onto the wooden floor, creating faint ripples in the silence. He kept his gaze downcast, shuffling awkwardly as if afraid to look at her. In a low voice, he apologized, "Sorry." His voice wavered slightly as he tapped the doorframe gently, hesitant to disturb her further.

Riyugi glanced up at him, their eyes meeting for a fleeting second. Her heartbeat quickened. Shingin's soaked and disheveled appearance matched her own, yet his evident nervousness oddly comforted her. She could tell he was more anxious than she was.

Breaking the tension, Shingin suggested, "You should take a hot shower before you catch a cold." His tone carried a mix of concern and unease.

Riyugi nodded instinctively but then hesitated. Her damp uniform reminded her of her current predicament. She caught him sneaking brief glances at the floorboards, clearly avoiding eye contact. The awkwardness of the moment was almost comical.

"I'll ask the old lady if she has spare clothes and towels for you," Shingin said hurriedly, retreating out the door before she could respond. The door clicked shut behind him, and Riyugi couldn't help but chuckle softly. His fumbling awkwardness brought warmth to the otherwise uncomfortable situation.

As Riyugi let the warm water cascade over her in the shower, the chill of the rain melted away. The droplets traced her curves, accentuating her delicate frame. She leaned against the tiled wall, her flushed face reflecting both the warmth of the water and lingering embarrassment.

She closed her eyes, humming a soft tune to calm her nerves. The noise of the storm outside seemed distant, muted by the sound of water. Yet as the minutes passed, unease crept in—Shingin had been gone for too long.

Where did he go? she thought, worry flashing across her face. Did something happen?

Meanwhile, Shingin was frantically calling for the innkeeper. "Grandma! Are you there? Can I borrow some spare clothes for my friend?" His voice echoed in the empty corridor, growing increasingly urgent.

The hallway was dimly lit, the wooden floor creaking under his weight. A damp, musty smell lingered in the air, accompanied by an unshakable chill. As he moved deeper into the inn, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Suddenly, a cold gust of wind swept past him.

Before he could react, a blade glinted in the darkness, slashing toward him. Shingin instinctively dodged, the knife narrowly grazing his ear and slicing a few strands of hair.

His heart pounded as he spun to face his attacker—a cloaked figure shrouded in shadows, save for a pair of cold, calculating eyes glinting with malice.

"It's you!" Shingin growled, anger and shock flaring in his voice. "The one who attacked us at the old warehouse!"

The figure's lips curled into a sinister smirk, his voice dripping with mockery. "That's right. I didn't expect you to remember me. Nor did I expect you to survive my ambush." The knife gleamed in the faint light as he tapped its edge against the wooden floor, each sound echoing like a death knell.

"Where's the innkeeper?" Shingin demanded, his fists clenched tightly. "What did you do to her?"

The figure's laughter was cold and derisive. "The old lady? Who knows? Maybe she's gone, or maybe she's waiting for a savior somewhere in the dark." His casual tone was infuriating, treating the life of another as a trivial matter.

Shingin's fury boiled over. "What do you want?" he demanded, taking a step forward, his body coiled to strike.

The shadowy figure merely grinned, retreating a step and vanishing into the darkness beyond the doorway. His parting words floated back like a haunting whisper: "If you're so curious, come and find out… Eighth-generation heir."

Shingin froze, his breath hitching. His heart pounded as the words sank in. Eighth-generation heir? He clenched his fists, frustration bubbling inside him. But before he could process further, he charged toward the door, determined to confront the truth.

"Stop right there!" he shouted, bolting into the stormy night.

Rain lashed against his face as he scanned the shadowy surroundings. The figure was nowhere in sight, but Shingin pressed on, running into the depths of the forest. His only thought was to find the innkeeper and unmask his mysterious adversary.