By the time he entered the town, the sun had set and the sky was a glassy cerulean blue. On the shadowed streets, vendors were finishing packing up, and a few women and children were taking the last of the laundry back indoors. Nafan was glad that it was dark – only a few villagers who had brushed close to him turned to stare. To everybody else, he was just another shadowed traveller.

The inn was along the main road near the center of the village. Warm light, music, laughter, and the irresistible aroma of alcohol and fried cooking spilled out of its open doors into the dusk. Lured by the delicious scent, Nafan found himself drifting longingly towards the building, his entire consciousness muffled by the sweet scent of oil-fried peppers.

Almost deliriously, Nafan stumbled into the warm interior of the inn and took a step towards the front counter – only to realize that the chattering and music had come to a thundering halt.

Everyone had stopped to stare at him.

A little puzzled, Nafan glanced over his shoulder, wondering if something mindblowing had followed him in. But there was nothing.

Just him.

Sighing, Nafan averted his gaze and shuffled meekly over to the counter.

There was a big man there with a plump beer-belly who he presumed was the owner of the inn. Nafan offered the man an apologetic smile and received a dubious eyebrow-raise in response.

“Well if it isn’t the finger-eating demon.”

The owner’s voice boomed matter-of-factly in the silence. Nafan cringed, then twitched in alarm when the man slammed his chubby hand down on the table, making it tremble beneath him.

 But then, he heard a low, rumbling laugh.

“Aren’t you pretty tame for such a big man? What can I get you, demon? Don’t got human fingers, but we make pretty good chicken feet.”

Slowly, tentative chuckles began to the owner’s lead. Relieved, Nafan took a breath for what felt like the first time in a long while. He lifted his gaze and met the owner’s broad smirk with a grateful smile of his own.

“Thank you… for a moment there I thought you were going to have me arrested.”

The owner laughed again and turned his back briefly, then shoved a cup of tea across the counter to Nafan.

“Nah, you’re not the first nor the weirdest demon that I’ve served. Take a seat. The crowd will warm up to you once they’re drunk. Are you staying the night?”

Not the first nor the weirdest demon? Nafan couldn’t help but think of Khyriel. If the boy frequented Tianxi’s inn, then he probably passed by this town regularly, too…

Grabbing himself a stool, he nodded distractedly to the owner in thanks. “Yeah, if you’ve got room.”

“Those hooligan soldiers just left so I’ve got tons of room,” the owner scoffed. He cast a side-ways glance to his left, where a girl in white robes was serving a trio of young well-dressed men with a nervous smile. “Can’t say the same for women, though.”

“I just need sleep and food,” Nafan said wearily, scanning the menu written on a big sheet of parchment behind the counter. “I’ll have a big bowl of whatever you’re making right now. It smells like heaven.”

The owner raised an eyebrow. “It ain’t fingers, you sure?”

“Quite.” Nafan smiled queasily. “It was just a bluff. I’m not a demon, nor do I like eating fingers. Can’t you tell?” He lifted a hand as though to show that he was harmless. “I’m just a feeble little doctor.”

“A doctor, eh. Whatever you say.” The owner turned his back with a patronizing laugh and disappeared behind some closed curtains, presumably to inform the chef of his order.

Left alone, Nafan became aware of the gazes trained on his back again, and he glanced over his shoulder warily. Like a typical inn, the crowd consisted of mostly of men – peasants from the village, and a few people who looked like merchants or travellers. Off to the corners he could see some women and children, sitting at the tables hidden in the shadows, looking nervous and tired – probably refugees escaping from the war. In the center of the inn, a small group of performers was playing lively music, dancing, and showing off tricks. Most of the attention that he was receiving at the moment came from a group of six men – locals, from the looks of it – at a large table nearby. Nafan thought about making some sort of communicative gesture to them, but before he could get to it, he was distracted by a waft of delicious aroma and the sizzling snap! of a hot dish.

Whirling around, he opened his mouth in a delighted grin as a plate of fried rice, marinated a lovely dark colour with soy sauce, was shoved under his chin.

“Eat up. I gave you an extra portion, so I’ll be expecting a good story in exchange.” The owner’s voice sounded gruffly above him. “Strange people like you are interesting.”

“Yes, sir,” Nafan agreed enthusiastically, oblivious to the burn of hot ceramic against his fingers as he grabbed his spoon and began shovelling warm grains of rice into his mouth.

The owner chuckled and departed for a moment to tend to his other customers. But he returned later, once Nafan had started to slow down.

Noticing the owner’s presence, Nafan washed down his food with a gulp of tea and flashed the man a beam, in a terrifically good mood now that his stomach was warm and stretched. “What kind of story would you like to hear, good sir?”

“Start with something simple.” The owner shrugged, hand around his own cup of beer as he leaned over the table towards Nafan. “What’s your name?”

“Nafan von Tethys.” Nafan felt his lips twitch into a crooked smile as the other man’s expression, expectedly, scrunched up in a dubious squint.

“What kind of name is that? You a foreigner?” The owner narrowed his eyes and scrutinized Nafan a little more closely. “You’re trying to hide it but I can tell that you’re a pretty handsome bastard. Half?”

“Oh, aha, thank you...” Nafan chuckled sheepishly. “My mother’s from the West. Not sure about my father,” he confessed. “I was born here, though. In… in a small town on the coast.” His dialect wasn’t perfect yet, so he wasn’t surprised to see suspicion flashing through the owner’s gaze – but admitting that he was from Qin would be even more dangerous.

“And you said you’re a doctor?” The owner sounded a little wary as he took a gulp of his beer. “Doctors rarely leave their villages. Why are you here?”

“I’m heading to Zhao,” Nafan explained, feeling himself relax as the familiar explanation slipped naturally off his tongue. “I heard they’re in need of more doctors. Better pay.” He let out a light-hearted chuckle.

“Yeah, the war is inching closer. It brings me business but I can’t say that makes me happy.” The owner sighed, sounding nostalgic as he took a bigger slurp of his drink. “My son was conscripted a couple months ago. Haven’t heard from him in a couple weeks…”

“I’ll keep an eye out for him,” Nafan promised, giving the man an empathetic smile, “Once I get to Zhao.”

“Mhm.” The owner nodded, but he sounded listless. “I’m too old to go, otherwise they’d probably have dragged me there, too. Qin’s methods of war are becoming more and more brutal – I hear they execute all prisoners, and that they don’t think twice about injuring civilians. This small town is left with widows and orphaned children. It’s quite sad.”

“…That is quite sad,” Nafan murmured, glancing over his shoulder again. Now that he was taking a second look, many of the men here were already quite elderly.

“Yeah… one of my old friends, she received news that her husband died, about a month ago. Now she’s left with seven children to raise by herself.” The owner shook his head with a heavy sigh. “I help her out as much as I can, but damn, those brats are going to have it rough.”

Nafan nodded along in remorseful silence. He waited until the owner had refilled his own cup before trying to say something comforting – but when he opened his mouth, the man’s attention was suddenly caught by something else.

“Well, well!”

The man’s voice was suddenly it’s loud, cheerful boom again. All heads in the inn turned, Nafan included. When he saw the familiar pale skin, scruffy hair, and blue-eyed glare, he felt a strange shiver trickle down his back.

Khyriel’s nonchalant frown transformed into a smirk as he stepped into the inn – but he only glanced at Nafan for a second. The boy walked towards them, strutting confidently past everybody’s stares, stroking the white fur dangling over his shoulder as he came up to the counter behind Nafan.

“Da Shan, long time no see.” With a grin, the boy leaned over the counter and planted a kiss on the owner’s shiny, round cheek.

Relieved, but a little bewildered at being completely ignored, Nafan opened his mouth to greet Khyriel and promptly felt something sharp jab into his back. Gasping, he found himself leaning over his empty plate with a breathless wheeze, unable to speak.

Above him, the owner didn’t notice, apparently too enraptured by Khyriel’s flirtatious grin. But Nafan saw the boy’s blue eyes slide briefly in his direction and narrow.

Shut up.

As if he could say anything now. It took a couple long seconds before Nafan managed to breathe again, and by then Khyriel and Da Shan were thoroughly engaged in deep conversation.

“Where’ve you been, Khyriel? My regulars keep asking for you. They miss you, you know.” Da Shan let out a faintly abashed laugh and rubbed a hand across his balding head. “I did too, a little bit.”

Khyriel, purring, leaned over the counter and puckered his pale pink lips. “I’ve been roaming the other side of Qi, hunting down a man who owes Tianxi-xi money.”

“Oh really? Did you find him?”

“Of course. I ripped out his balls, just like Tianxi-xi asked.” With a scoff, Khyriel leaned back and lifted an ankle over his knee. The movement pulled the felt of his robe back, and Nafan found himself unconsciously tracing the contours of the boy’s muscles up his white thigh.

Then he felt another sharp pain in his back, and doubled over with a startled cough.

H-How is he doing that?! With watery eyes, Nafan looked up at the boy, but Khyriel didn’t so much as spare him a glance. Instead, the boy was leaning over the counter, tapping one hand on the brick surface as he murmured something quietly into the owner’s ear.

With his good hearing, Nafan managed to catch some of the words, and he made a pretty good guess at the rest.

“Did anyone leave any jobs for me?”

“Hm…” The owner seemed to hesitate before replying. “Yeah, just one. It’s from the mayor of Chiping so it pays well, but I don’t think it’s the kind of job you’ll like.”

“You know I don’t care what kind of job it is, just tell me.” Khyriel’s voice turned dry in distaste. “Oh, except that one time a now very-dead retard wanted to sell my body for his own profit. I may be a slut but I’m not an idiot.”

Da Shan winced, then recovered quickly with a sheepish smile. “Well, when he first came to me, he was asking for a good assassin. I don’t think I should talk about the details while it’s this busy, come see me later.”

“… Hm.” This time, Khyriel’s gaze slid over briefly and Nafan blinked, startled by the eye contact – but the boy turned away quickly. “Alright. Anything else?”

The owner was silent for a moment, his gaze sliding around the inn as he seemed to think about it. He paused for a couple seconds on the girl in the white robes, who was attempting to excuse herself from the trio of now-drunk men with a flustered smile – then he leaned closer to Khyriel again. “Those three good men, do you see them? They’ve been giving my daughter a hard time, but I can’t do anything about it because they’re the governor’s son and nephews. How about peeling them off her for a night?”

Khyriel cast the men a brief look, then chuckled and pushed Da Shan way with a coy sort shove to the chest. “Oh, offering me such handsome, wealthy men. You spoil me, Da Shan.”

The owner’s guilty, uncertain look was instantly swept away in a roguish grin and he reached over to pinch the boy’s pale cheek. “Khyriel, you’re such a darling. Free lodging, drinks, and food for you tonight. Ask for whatever you want.”

Khyriel purred, sounding pleased as he let the man stroke his chin. “As always, you’re the best, Da Shan.”

Feeling a little agitated, Nafan cleared his throat and slid a couple coins over the counter. That caught the owner’s attention, and he threw a pleasant smile over. “I’ve travelled far today, and I’m worn out. Would you mind showing me where I can sleep and bathe?”

Brightening, the owner put his fat thumb over the coins and pulled them over to his side of the counter. “Yes, of course. Khyriel, why don’t you go talk to the men. My daughter can then show this good demon to his quarters.”

Again, with the demon joke – but Nafan pushed down his exasperation as Da Shan winked and turned away with a bright laugh to greet a regular who had just walked through the door.

Left alone with Khyriel, they sat in silence for a couple seconds. Then the boy rose to his feet and brushed past him.

“While we’re here, we don’t know each other.”

Frowning, Nafan grasped his tea and gazed into the dark liquid. That did make sense, he supposed… they were both conspicuous enough on their own. Banding up would only terrify these poor, regular townspeople even more.

Speaking of terrifying… every time Nafan closed his eyes, he’d still see a flash of that sliced-up soldier splattering to the ground.

Khyriel had told him that he worked as a hirearm, but still… what he had done earlier, that wasn’t something a human was capable of. His incredible ability to kill, and his completely dismissive attitude about it, left Nafan feeling a little cold inside.

The lycan weren’t human, he reminded himself. Ultimately, they were still beasts, and powerful ones at that. 

To them – to Khyriel, killing a human was probably the same as squishing an ant.