Shadow Slave: Kindness

Sunny rubbed the back of his neck as he walked, fingers digging a little harder than necessary. The conversation with Cassie hadn't sat right. He wasn't sure what stung more — the awkwardness, the silence, or the look on her face just before he left. A flash of something… hurt? Disappointment? No, that was too presumptuous. He barely knew her.

Still, something in his chest twisted when he remembered the way she'd gone still.

He sighed, muttering, "Idiot," under his breath. He'd need to figure out how to approach her again — carefully. Not to pry. Not to fix anything. Just… to apologize. Maybe bring something neutral to talk about. Food? People-watching? The weather? Okay, not the weather.

He pushed open the doors of the cafeteria.

The smell of warm bread, spices, and sweet sauces hit him immediately, pulling him out of his thoughts. The place was already filling up with early risers. Most Sleepers clustered in small, cautious groups. Some were loud. Some were quiet. All were new.

Sunny grabbed a tray and made for the food line.

Not even halfway through piling meat and vegetables onto his plate, two figures stepped into his path.

A boy and a girl. Same face. Same eyes. Mirror images — save for the boy's tousled haircut and the girl's neatly braided ponytail. Both had warm brown hair and sharp amber eyes that glinted with unspoken mischief. Their posture — relaxed but expectant — made it feel like they'd rehearsed this moment.

Sunny blinked.

"Uh… hey?"

The boy grinned. "Hey. I'm Jack."

The girl mirrored him. "And I'm Jill."

They said it in unison.

Then, silence. And… more silence.

Both of them leaned in ever so slightly, as if waiting.

Sunny frowned. "...What?"

The twins blinked at him.

Jill tilted her head. "You're not going to say anything?"

"About what?"

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Our names?"

Sunny squinted. "What about them?"

They shared a look.

Jill laughed. "Seriously? No joke about the hill? No, 'Did you tumble down and break your crown?' Nothing?"

Sunny looked between them, confused. "Why would I…? That's just your names."

Jack stared like he'd discovered a new species. "You're telling me we've been hearing the same joke since kindergarten, and you're the one guy on earth who doesn't make it?"

Sunny shrugged. "Honestly, I think they sound nice. Besides, if anyone should be made fun of, it's me."

Jill leaned in. "Oh? What's yours?"

"Sunless."

Both twins paused. Then blinked.

Jack looked like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the right words. Jill, on the other hand, burst out laughing. "No way. That's way worse than Jack and Jill."

Sunny gave a rueful smile. "Yeah, my mom had quite the poetic soul. Or a grudge. Could go either way."

Jack chuckled. "Okay, respect. That's a name with some mystery."

Jill grinned. "Sounds like a brooding anti-hero."

"I aim to disappoint," Sunny replied dryly, stepping around them and heading for the tables.

The twins followed without asking.

Suddenly, Jill tilted her head and asked cautiously:

"Sunless… you haven't been to school, have you?"

Sunny blinked.

Now he was genuinely astonished.

He made a mental image of himself — wearing the standard Academy uniform, hair roughly combed, face healthier than it had been in years. His eyes were still a little guarded, but not sunken and hollow like before. If someone looked close enough, they might guess he was from a modest background. But to assume he hadn't gone to school?

'Wait… is this about that hill thing again? Jack and Jill went tumbling down and broke something…? A crown, maybe? Was that some famous guy? A noble or something? Or worse — a school meme? Ugh.'

He could already feel the headache building.

Still, he kept his tone even as he answered:"…No. Why?"

Jack leaned forward helpfully. "Well, there's this super famous nursery rhyme with our names in it. Like every kid in school reads it. So when someone hears 'Jack and Jill' and doesn't say something dumb like 'Did you get your pail of water?' we kinda assume…"

"…that they didn't go to school," Jill finished, a bit sheepish now.

Sunny stared at them for a moment.

"…Ah. I see."

'What the hell is a nursery rhyme?'

He nodded slowly, biting back a sigh.

The urge to vanish into the nearest shadow was growing by the second.

'Of course. That's what I get for trying to be friendly. Next they'll be quizzing me on school dances and cafeteria food fights.'

He gave them a weak smile and tried not to look like he was regretting every life choice that led to this moment.

"I suppose I missed out," he said flatly.

Jack opened his mouth as if to ask something else, but Sunny cut him off by suddenly asking:

"…How was school? You two seem like… really intelligent twins."

Both Jack and Jill blinked, their earlier amusement fading into something softer. It wasn't mockery — more like curiosity. As if no one had ever asked them that before.

"It was alright," Jack said after a moment. "Not as glamorous as people think. Lots of rote memorization, boring teachers, cafeteria politics. Normal stuff."

Jill tilted her head. "You're the first person here who's said that to us. Usually it's all: 'Ooooh twins! Are you telepathic? Can you feel each other's pain?' It gets old fast."

Sunny chuckled.

"Do you?"

They both rolled their eyes in perfect unison.

Sunny allowed himself a tiny smile, then hesitated. After a beat, he glanced around and leaned in slightly.

"…Speaking of normal stuff. I, uh… I got this communicator thing. But I've got no idea how to use it."

That got them both laughing.

Jack grinned. "Oh no. Don't tell me you haven't even turned it on?"

"I have!" Sunny said defensively. "It blinked."

"Blinking doesn't count as using it," Jill said with a giggle. "Come on. Sit. Lesson one: surviving social media."

With a theatrical sigh, Sunny sat back down. The twins flanked him — one on each side — and the impromptu crash course began.

An Hour Later

"…That icon opens your Academy feed. That's where announcements go — class schedules, events, whatever."

"Okay," Sunny nodded, concentrating hard. "So these red dots mean…?"

"Notifications. Someone pinged you," Jack explained. "Probably the auto-welcome bot."

"This one is messaging," Jill said, tapping his screen. "DMs. Group chats. And that is the emergency broadcast channel — don't press it unless you're literally on fire."

Sunny frowned. "Why are the buttons so small? Is this made for ants?"

"Your fingers are just clumsy," Jack grinned. "Try zooming in like this—"

"I am zooming."

"Here, let me—"

"No, I got it—"

Sunny fumbled, tapped something by accident, and suddenly music blared through the device. An aggressively poppy tune with a cartoon avatar started dancing across the screen.

"—WHAT IS THAT—"

"Oh my god!" Jill burst out laughing. "You just launched Moody Momo! That's a kid's rhythm game!"

Sunny stared at the screen in horror.

"I didn't ask for this."

Jack nearly fell over laughing. "Bro, you downloaded it! You hit install!"

"It tricked me!"

Two Hours Later

Sunny now knew:

How to send and read messages.

That people shared photos of food voluntarily.

The terrifying existence of group video calls.

The fact that people voluntarily reviewed cafeteria meals and ranked toast by crunchiness.

And that his communicator came with twelve pre-installed games, a meditation app, and something called DreamGram, which was… a mess.

"Okay," Jill said, finally stretching her arms. "You're… functional."

Jack raised a thumb. "Barely."

Sunny groaned, dropping his head to the table.

"Who made this interface? A god of chaos?"

Jill smirked. "The same god who made nursery rhymes, probably."

Sunny let out a defeated sigh.

"…I miss the part of life where I only had to worry about getting stabbed."

Jill narrowed her eyes. "Wait a second."

Sunny lifted his head from the table slowly, already regretting his mouth.

"…Yes?"

She leaned forward, expression turning suspiciously curious. "Did you just say you miss getting stabbed?"

Jack, on the other side, blinked. "Yeah, that. Pretty sure most people don't miss that part of their life, you know."

Sunny froze for a second. Internally, alarms were going off.

Danger. Subject straying into personal territory. Evade. Deflect. Retreat.

Unfortunately, his Flaw didn't care about evasive strategies.

"…I mean… no. Obviously not. Who enjoys getting stabbed?"

They both stared at him.

Sunny squirmed.

"…It's just that everything back then was… simpler."

Jill tilted her head. "Simpler. When you were being stabbed."

He sighed and rubbed his temple. "You know what I mean."

Jack arched an eyebrow. "Do we?"

"Fine, fine," Sunny muttered. "It's just… dodging knives and surviving in alleys, you kind of know what to expect. People either want your stuff, your spot, or your head. Easy calculus."

The twins fell silent.

"…And here," Sunny added more softly, "everything's shiny and structured, but somehow, that makes it harder. Because now I have to talk to people. Make connections. Trust strangers. That stuff? Way harder than getting stabbed."

Jack let out a low whistle. "You've had a weird life, man."

Jill didn't speak for a moment. Then: "Wait… you were serious. You really have been stabbed."

Sunny looked at her, then at Jack, then back at her. His expression was a perfect blend of sheepishness and sarcasm.

"…I was born in the outskirts. If you haven't been stabbed by fifteen, they make you do it to yourself just to catch up."

Jill's mouth fell open. "You're joking."

"…Yes." Sunny said flatly. "That one was a joke."

"Finally," Jack muttered.

There was a short pause.

Then Sunny added, perfectly deadpan:"…It's actually thirteen."

"What?!"