Daybreak.
The morning sun speared through the tiny glass circle, a razor-thin blade of light cutting straight across Yuri's face.
He groaned softly, eyes still shut, lifting an arm to shield himself—
And then the warmth disappeared.
Gone.
A shadow swallowed the light whole.
Yuri's eyes snapped open, blinking rapidly as his vision adjusted.
She stood over him.
Anisa.
Her golden eyes looked down at him without a flicker of surprise, as if she'd always been there—waiting for the exact moment he woke. Still. Composed. Terrifyingly calm. Her presence pressed against him like weight he couldn't see but could feel, heavy and absolute.
"Get up."
Her voice cracked through the room, clean and commanding, leaving no room for confusion or refusal.
Yuri swallowed. His throat felt dry.
"Uh… you… here…?"
She didn't answer.
Anisa unfolded her arms and turned toward the wall. It slid open soundlessly, and a rush of natural light flooded in—bright, warm, overwhelming.
Yuri flinched.
To anyone else, it would've been ordinary.To Yuri, it was blinding. Like stepping out of a coffin and into the sun.
She stopped at the threshold and glanced back only slightly.
"It's time," she said. "Come out."
Then she walked away.
No explanation.No reassurance.No glance back.
Yuri sat there for a second longer than he meant to, heart pounding, thoughts scrambling to catch up. Then instinct kicked in. He pushed himself off the bed and moved quickly toward the opening—
And stopped dead.
Grass.
Perfect, living green grass stretched out before him, each blade swaying gently as if breathing. Trees stood tall beyond it, their leaves rustling softly, whispering a sound he hadn't heard in so long it almost hurt to recognize it.
And enclosing it all—
Walls.
Colossal. Endless. Rising impossibly high, smooth and pale, curving around the entire space like the edge of the world itself. Not fences.
Not barriers.
Containment.
Yuri's breath caught in his throat.
He couldn't speak.Couldn't step forward.
The wind brushed past him—cool, clean, alive. It carried the scent of earth and leaves and something achingly familiar. Open space. Freedom's echo.
It felt wrong.
Too real.
Like a dream daring him to wake up.
"Why… why am I…" The words slipped out unfinished, brittle, as if they might shatter if he pushed them further.
Something shifted between them.
Yuri turned.
Anisa stood a few steps away now, facing him. They stared at each other in silence, the wind tugging gently at their hair. No guards. No weapons drawn. Just distance and truth hanging thick in the air.
Then Yuri spoke again—his voice sharper now, steadier, cutting through the moment.
"How long… please… tell me how long I've been within these walls."
Anisa didn't blink.
"Yuri Saint," she said evenly, each syllable precise, rehearsed. "You've been under the ownership and shelter of the Assassins… for one year and six months."
The words landed.
And stayed.
Silence stretched.
"I see," Yuri whispered.
He swallowed, his throat tightening. Then, quietly—
"And you are…?"
"…Anisa." She lifted her chin just slightly. "You may address me by that name."
Yuri nodded once.
His face emptied—no shock, no anger, no relief. Just absence. He tilted his head back and looked up at the sky, eyes tracking every cloud like he was afraid they might disappear if he blinked.
"Anisa…" he said at last, voice barely above the wind. "Please. Tell me this last—"
He drew in a breath.
Clenched his jaw.
"WHO EXACTLY… AM I…?"
The wind died.
The trees fell silent.
Even the air seemed to hold its breath.
And for the first time since he'd woken—
The static in his skull—
Was gone.