Shadow Slave: Kindness

The morning found Sunny in unusually good spirits, though he couldn't quite place why.

There had been no great triumph, no miraculous deliverance, and yet… he had slept well — like a man returned from war, not victorious, not proud, but simply alive.

It was still early. The others — the Sleepers — were scattered across their bunks in the quiet stillness of exhaustion and routine.

He alone was awake, eyes wide open, staring up at the sterile ceiling with thoughts heavier than sleep itself.

And so he lay there, arms behind his head, pondering with that dreadful lucidity that sometimes comes not from clarity, but from fatigue.

His fifth Attribute — nameless, faceless, unreadable —[??????]like a silence too loud to ignore.

The full description of his fourth Attribute, too, haunted him: a compass of fate, a whispering of threads and possibilities, not destiny itself, but its shadow.

A cruel gift — for it told him the direction, yes, but gave no hint of what lay at the end of the road.

Joy or torment, reward or ruin… all the same to a compass.

And yet it was that very compass, that whisper of instinct, that now screamed at him:You survived because of the fifth.

Not courage. Not skill. Not strength.

The fifth Attribute — unknown, unnamed — had tilted the scale.

He thought of Auro.

The Hero of the Nine. Radiant. Condemned. Aware of Sunny's name, as though the universe itself had whispered it to him in defiance of logic.

And the Mountain King…

That dreadful tyrant who bled memories and shadows.

He thought of the gap — the strange, unaccountable time between leaving Auro and waking beneath the tyrant's gaze.

A space, a moment, perhaps outside of time.

He thought of fate — the thing he was supposed to lose to.

Yes… resisting? That he could believe.

But conquering? Winning?

No. It should have been impossible.

Sunny was, by all counts, too weak.

He should have been devoured — quietly, anonymously — a thread snipped before the pattern even emerged.

Yet here he was.

"Why?" he whispered aloud, not expecting an answer.

To that end, he summoned his runes.

His eyes locked on the fifth Attribute, that black space among white script.

[??????]

A silence more terrifying than any scream.

His fourth Attribute made him sensitive to fate — a feeling, a pressure, like how birds sense the storm before the wind begins to howl.

But what good was foresight if not accompanied by power?

A prophet in chains still bleeds like any other man.

And yet… that prophetic sense told him it was the fifth that had saved him.

Sunny sighed.

There was also the Memory — Auro's legacy — the pendant.

He summoned it again.

It hung in the air, beautiful and mournful.

A piece of darkness encased in silver chains and enclosing beautiful violet light.

A contradiction.

He thought of what it did — if it did anything at all.

It seemed to influence probability — subtly, quietly, like a gambler who always wins by accident.

But…

"No," he muttered, "Too early for conclusions. I must test it — deliberately, methodically."

The Academy could offer appraisal, but he remembered Jet's advice.

And he listened to her.

So he dismissed the pendant, let the runes vanish into ether, and stood.

A short while later, washed and clothed in the clean garments of his new reality, he wandered through the gardens of the Sleeper compound.

The wind was quiet. The morning sun was pale.

And Sunny, silent, walked as though on trial.

It was then that he saw her.

On the lush grass under the pale sunlight — the kind of morning light people often savor, walking barefoot or resting in silent thought — there was a bench nestled quietly at the side of the gardens.

And currently, there was only one girl sitting quietly on that bench.

Sunny gave her a glance.

The girl was delicate, demure, and strikingly pretty. Her clothes were tidy and clean — not expensive, but tasteful. With pale blond hair, large blue eyes, and an exquisite, porcelain-like face, she looked almost unreal.

She was subtly breathtaking.

However, something felt... off.

Sunny frowned, trying to pinpoint what exactly made him uncomfortable. After a moment, he realized — it was her eyes. That empty, emotionless stare reminded him of someone.

Mountain King.

Startled, Sunny understood. The girl was blind.

It took him a couple of seconds to compose himself.

'What a shame.'

She wouldn't have survived the First Nightmare if she had been blind before entering the Spell. Which meant...

It was her Flaw.

A cold sensation spread through his chest.

'And I thought my Flaw was bad.'

No matter what Aspect Ability the blind girl had received in exchange for her sight, it was practically a death sentence. A blind person had little to no chance of surviving in the Dream Realm — not with a dormant core.

In a way, she was already dead.

She was a walking corpse.

A bit disheartened, he slowly stepped closer to the bench and coughed lightly — just enough to let her know someone was approaching.

Sunny ran through lines in his mind, thinking of what to say. You didn't meet a blind person every day… and certainly not someone with a death sentence hanging above their head.

If it had been anyone else, Sunny would've just nodded and moved on.

But he recognized the look in her face — the quiet grief of someone who knows they're going to die.

He'd handled it better. Perhaps because he had lived with death for so long, growing up in the slums, surviving on tricks, scraps, and silence.

But she seemed… soft. Gentle. Probably from a good household. Judging by her posture and clothes, the loss of sight must've been devastating.

Even more so because the Dream Realm didn't care.

Whether one was a Dormant Sleeper or a Transcendent Saint — the cruelty was the same.

Sunny decided to go with the flow and just mention something light, something interesting.

"The weather is quite nice today."

Shit.

Way to go, Sunless.

Truly the most interesting line in the world.

The girl didn't respond. She just turned her head slightly toward him.

A bit disheartened, he carefully sat on the opposite end of the bench.

"Do you like waking up early in the morning?" Sunny tried again.

The girl flinched a little before responding in a slow, cold tone.

"I used to."

"You used to...?"

"Well, there's no difference now, is there? If you can't see." She let out a bitter breath. "I'm blind, you see. So it makes no difference."

Sunny grimaced.

He really didn't know how to talk to girls. The only one he'd had real conversations with was Aveline.

And well… she wasn't exactly the embodiment of femininity.

Not yet anyway.

"Ah… sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Silence.

They just sat there, saying nothing for a while.

But Sunny didn't give up.

"I arrived yesterday. Really, the Academy is… something else, huh?"

"I wouldn't know," she said flatly. "Though I arrived a week ago."

Sunny cursed internally.

'Really, Sunny? Talking about how things look — again? You absolute dumbass.'

"How has it been here?" he asked.

The girl was quiet for a moment. Then she answered:

"Just trying to live… with my Flaw."

She continued:

"Trying to walk, learning to bath, eat on my own and such things."

"I see."

Sunny didn't know what to say next, prying too much isn't gonna help, and it's not like he knew topics for conversation.

The silence lingered.

The wind rustled through the garden, brushing against the leaves with soft whispers. Somewhere in the distance, the faint chirping of birds competed with the dull hum of the Academy.

Sunny leaned back on the bench, stretching his legs a little.

"I am Sunless, but my friends call me Sunny..."

"Cassia, you can call me Cassie"

Her tone was still cold.

And unlike most, she didn't show any care of his strange name.

"Nice bench," he said mildly.

Cassie didn't reply.

He waited.

Then, not looking at her, he added, "I mean, you'd think something this fancy would have weird chairs. Uncomfortable ones. You know, the kind that look like sculpture but feel like you're sitting on betrayal."

Still no answer.

He rubbed the back of his neck, mildly embarrassed. "Anyway… this one's alright."

Cassie let out the faintest sound. Not quite a scoff. Not quite a laugh.

Sunny took it as progress.

She kept her head turned forward. Her eyes, pale and unseeing, stared into nothing. But her shoulders had relaxed the tiniest bit.

He picked at the hem of his sleeve.

"So," he tried again. "You've been here a week?"

She gave a small nod.

"I just got here yesterday," he offered. "Haven't figured out where anything is. I think I got lost four times before breakfast."

Cassie was quiet for a moment, then said flatly, "You must have an incredible sense of direction."

Sunny blinked. For a moment, he wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic or serious.

Then her lips twitched, barely.

He smiled a little. "It's a gift."

She didn't answer, but he felt a little more of the ice melt between them.

They fell into silence again.

This time, it was less tense.

Still distant. Still unfamiliar. But tolerable.

Sunny shifted slightly, glancing at her. "So… you don't mind sitting here alone?"

Cassie tilted her head.

"I mind less than having people sit down and talk at me."

He winced. "Ah. I'm doing that, aren't I?"

"Yes."

"…Sorry."

Cassie didn't say anything, but there was something in her posture — the way she folded her hands in her lap — that didn't scream anger. Just… mild disapproval.

He figured that was her default mode.

Which, weirdly, he found kind of refreshing.

Still, he knew when to back off. He stood up slowly, brushing the back of his pants.

"Well, I'll get out of your hair, Cassie."

She didn't stop him.

But just before he turned, he paused and muttered, more to himself than anything:

"…Guess everyone's got their handicap, huh?"

The words slipped out carelessly.

He regretted them immediately.

Cassie went still.

Her head turned slightly. Her expression remained calm — too calm.

"…Handicap?"

Her voice was soft, like glass being set gently on a table.

Sunny froze.

"…That came out wrong."

"I see."

Which she didn't. And the irony of her saying that hit like a punch to the ribs.

He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "No, I mean— I didn't mean it like—"

"It's fine," she said.

But it wasn't.

He knew it wasn't.

The girl sat there, perfectly still, her delicate hands folded neatly. The air had turned colder.

Sunny sighed inwardly and nodded, mostly at himself.

"…Right. I'll be going."

And then hesitating, he added:

"I'll see you later, Cassie"

She didn't reply.

He turned and walked away, the grass rustling softly under his steps.

He didn't look back.

Silently cursing himself mentally all the way.

And that was the first interaction between Sunny and Cassie.