K’s breath was caught in his throat when he first walked in.

  Taxi-dance halls were common all over the Red Light District of Tianxia. They welcomed men from all walks of life. From glass-clinking politicians to grimy sailors from the port.

  A sea of women were already in the middle of the floor, appeasing the men. These were the taxi dancers, ladies who were paid a few wads of kin— or a good drink, to give the men a doll to dance with.

  They were one of the most successful business ventures that the Triads owned.

  K had never stepped foot in one before. In fact, it was unnatural for Master Banzai and Sunren to hold their meetings in such a place.

  It was hardly private. After a mission, confidential information was better passed within a dingy hotel room. Not a table brimming with effervescent drinks and drunk diners.

  ‘Too bright.’

  “Good morning, sir,” K greeted, the moment he reached their assigned table.

  He didn't need any instruction to seek out his Master. The man was imposing. With his cropped hair, the scar on the left side of his head, and the extravagant tattoos that peeked beneath the neckline of his crisp three-piece suit.

  “Heya, kiddo,” Banzai grinned with sharp teeth.

  K bowed, letting the man run a hand through his hair. It was a customary, nearly filial act. His Master performed it without fail whenever they were in public.

  K knew it sent a message: He was the loyal mongrel of the Triads.

  ‘What humiliation, Sire.’

  Across from them both sat Sunren. His blind eyes stared straight ahead, unseeing. He was the only member who could never view the exchange.

  “Well, I must say I’m not used to this environment for one of our meetings, Master." Sunren smiled, tilting his head. He basked beneath the warm light of the crystal chandeliers.

  “Ah, you’ll know why soon,” Banzai gulped down his drink, before leaning back in his seat. “There is exciting news!”

  The man then straightened his legs and slammed them atop the table, making himself comfortable. His shoes cracked one of the plates. The decorative vase of flowers tipped over and spilled water across the surface.

  K did not flinch. Neither did the dance hall’s other patrons. They knew that this man was not to be trifled with.

  “Kizuna, do you know the name of this dance hall?” Banzai turned to the boy by his side.

  Kizuna was the name that the Master had offered him. It was given to him the day after K received Hun.

  To honor the birth of your new life, Banzai had said.

  “No, sir.” K shook his head.

  “The Guerdon—” Banzai let the foreign word roll off his tongue. “It’s from the Upperland language. It means ‘reward’.”

  “I suppose you mean to say that this is a trophy of sorts,” Sunren surmised.

  “Of course it is!” Banzai shouted, so loudly that his voice bounded across the walls. For a moment, the small band playing in the corner faltered.

  Banzai’s eyes took on a manic look as he turned to K. “Good dogs deserve their rewards.”

  “Thank you, sir,” K bowed again.

  When Banzai leaned closer, K could smell the strange mix of alcohol and cigars in the man’s breath. “My, my, Kizuna... You know that we’re halfway through with our deal, right? I thought we might as well celebrate, especially after your successful mission a couple days ago.”

  At the mention of their deal— K stiffened.

  “Deal?” Sunren muttered.

  “Oh! You don’t know?” Banzai shifted his narrowed eyes to the other man. “Ah, well. I ought to tell you about it, especially now that I have exciting news to share!”

  Just as Banzai was about to continue speaking, K caught a shadow slinking past the grand doors of the Guerdon.

  ‘There’s an enemy, Sire. Keep your guard up.’

  “Shh,” K whispered under his breath. “I noticed, too.”

  The shadow belonged to a man. Broad and a little out of place. He was wearing a ratty trench coat. His eyes a dull blue, hair straight and with the slightest hint of green.

  A Cultivator, whose features were—

  K sharply turned away.

  “You see, Sunren…” Banzai was still speaking, jovially. “Not many Triad members know this, but Kizuna operates beneath me according to a deal we made five years ago.”

  “Five years ago,” Sunren repeated. “That was the same year as the Red Light District Massacre. The same night…”

  K tried to ignore the figure from earlier, as the man took a seat at the table a few feet away from them.

  “Yes, the same night I received the Beast’s Blessing.” K nodded, finally hopping back into the conversation.

  ‘The night I awoke once more,’ Hun mused.

  As if reacting to the Beast’s words, K’s golden eye flashed brighter.

  K could swear that the brooding man turned his attention to them.

  “That’s right. There’s just one hitch, though— Kizuna doesn’t recall how he received the Blessing.” Banzai sneered happily. “He only remembers waking up in a burning compound, his left eye shining a brilliant gold.”

  K tried to gain control of the topic. “So, Master Banzai proposed a deal. The compound was Triad property, so he’s the only one who knows what occurred that night.”

  “My Path gave me a good look,” Banzai leaned across the table to pat at K’s head again, “Now, I’m the only person that knows who gave Kizuna the Blessing.”

  Sunren’s eyes grew wide. “You’re saying someone gave him the Beast’s Blessing?”

  Banzai smirked, lips in a tight line. Instead of replying, he pinched his index finger and thumb together. He formed a zipping motion over his mouth.

  “Master told me that if I completed 1000 successful missions for him using the power of the Beast’s Blessing…” K recited the familiar terms easily, “He’d tell me everything about the man that gave it to me.”

  Just as K said this, a flurry of applause erupted from the rest of the patrons. A group of women had slid to the middle of the dance floor.

  They were all donning black chiffon cloaks.

  The sight made K’s eyes narrow.

  The women slipped the cloaks off their shoulders, dropping them to the tiled floors. They revealed the sequined costumes they wore beneath, shining like moonlit fish scales. Feathers bounced alluringly atop their hips and headdresses.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  But K didn’t care about that. Neither did the man from earlier.

  Instead, their eyes met.

  Imperceptibly, the man’s expression grew into shock.

  Before it hardened into realization.

  Just like those dancers, the man was hiding something beneath his coat. The deep navy of a uniform blazer. The leather of a harness. The glinting barrel of a pistol—

  “And well, I had a new position to offer you—” Banzai had begun to say as a bullet pierced through the backrest of K’s seat.

  “Master, behind me!” K shrieked, using all of his strength to flip the table up. It formed a makeshift wooden shield as another shot rang out.

  “What in the eight hells!” Banzai exclaimed in anger. His boss’s own Cultivational aura exploded into reality, a muddied green. “Who just—”

  “There’s no time, sir,” K spat. “We need to get you out of here. That man is an Enforcer. He surely has a powerful Path.”

  “Alright. But…” Banzai looked at him for a moment, before cursing under his breath. “I didn’t get to say it earlier, but that latest mission was your 500th success.”

  Another bullet shot past them, somewhere. A scream pierced through the hall.

  K tried to focus on Banzai’s words. “This dance hall, the Guerdon— it’s a promotion. A reward, as I said. It’s yours.”

  That’s all his boss said, before bolting across the room. He blended into the screaming crowd, ducking and weaving until he reached the exit.

  K couldn't even let the man's words settle in his mind. Instead, he turned to his side. “Sunren, we need to—”

  He was met with a crumpled body on the ground.

  Sunren, motionless. There was a large puddle of blood beneath him.

  He had been shot.

  “Sunren…” K managed, weakly.

  There was a slight shuffle. A groan. “Kizuna…”

  Instantly, K crawled to the man’s side. His knees were stained an awful crimson. “I’ll get help.”

  K didn’t recognise his own voice. Stammering and weak. Nothing like the eased, nearly bored drone of the Golden Phantom.

  “Poor thing,” Sunren cooed, weakly raising a hand. His voice was softened, as always. Like K was a being built of glass.

  K flinched as the hand wandered closer, grazing past his lashes. Until the man’s fingers were against the gauze on K’s face. “You're crying.”

  His fingers pushed deeper, feeling the soft skin hidden beneath the tight cotton.

  Sunren whispered, “I guess I've always known, but… you're still human. Even more than I am.”

  “What?” K whispered.

  “Behind you,” Sunren forced out as his eyes slipped shut.

  K felt the air behind him shift.

  ‘Sire—’ Hun warned.

  “Caught you,” came a gruff voice.

  Burly hands grasped at K’s neck, lifting him from the floor. He was raised into the air until he could see the Enforcer’s face. “Damn, tiny thing, aren’t you?”

  K growled, shrieking and kicking to try and escape the man’s grip. He made good on his role as the Triads’ wild mongrel.

  But his eyes were still pinned to where Sunren was, growing colder and colder on the tiles.

  That meant that if K tapped into his Blessing and went past 10 minutes again—

  There’d be no second chances. Hun’s power would claim him.

  He’d lose himself and die as the Phantom.

  “Let go!” K managed to choke out, his throat growing tight from the man’s endless assault. His pulse was racing. Blood curdling hot and boiling beneath his skin.

  ‘I can protect you, Sire. How dare he touch you—’

  A desperate roar tore from K’s lungs, his hands lunging for whatever they could. He ripped his fingernails across the Enforcer’s forearms. Kicked at the man’s legs with his own. Tried reaching for the man’s face, to scratch and pull.

  K's head slammed atop the ground, air ripped from him. The Enforcer stared down at him as he pressed both hands to his throat and squeezed.

  “D’you have your fun, Golden Phantom?” The Enforcer leaned down to bellow at him, fat globs of spit landing on K’s gauze-wrapped face. “Playing dog for your Triad Master… five years, and I finally have you.”

  The clasp on his throat grew tighter, K’s tongue pressing to the roof of his mouth. K eyed the Enforcer's hand as he cocked his pistol. “— I-I’m…”

  ‘Sire, let me take over. Perish with dignity.’

  K couldn’t speak. Not any longer. Even if he managed to tap into his other versions, he would still need a weapon to break free.

  His life was being squeezed out of him. Kept alive so the Enforcer could drill his body full of bullet holes and snap an arm or two.

  “S-S—” K was trembling. “Sorry…”

  Terror gripped at him verily, more than it ever had before. K had believed that such a sensation was lost upon him.

  But now, it rose in excess. He’d drown in it.

  “What?” the Enforcer growled at him.

  “I…I-I’m sorry,” K sobbed. His face felt hot. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—”

  And then, before K knew it, fat tears were running down his cheeks, moistening the Enforcer’s gloves.

  Through bleary eyes, K could make out the Enforcer’s face. His badge, clipped to his breast pocket, read: Ground Enforcer Lahn, C.

  The man's brows drew up to his forehead, mouth slack in shock. “You’re… you’re a kid.”

  Finally, it seemed like the hand around K’s throat loosened.

  “Xian, you’re just a kid.”

  K gasped, air finally returning to him. A flurry of shouts and footsteps barged into the dance hall. They were probably the Triads’ reinforcements.

  The Enforcer only spared K a horrified glance before bolting off, dodging the attacks that were sent his way by stumbling into the chaotic crowds.

  “I’m leaving,” Kaiso cupped a hand around his mouth, calling from the foyer of their cramped four-room apartment.

  “What?” his brother stumbled out of the small corner of their living room. He was holding a cup of coffee. His shift started early today. “But you haven’t had breakfast yet.”

  Kaiso shot a quick glance at his brother’s office, the door still hanging open.

  Inside was his small office, teeming with papers. A small box was kicked beside the desk, filled with old war memorabilia. His brother’s uniform. A parachute. Some food kits.

  Above the desk was a wide cork board with newspaper clippings, records, and articles pinned to its surface. Some were growing yellow with age, the pins holding them in place having rusted a little.

  They all bore ‘The Golden Phantom’ on the headline.

  Kaiso shuddered.

  “Can’t. I’m heading to the library to do some reviews for the exam.” Kaiso finally said as he struggled with his tie, looping it in circles around his neck.

  Two large hands suddenly grasped at his collar, flattening them down.

  It was his brother, gently grabbing the ends of Kaiso’s tie, fixing it up.

  Kaiso afforded a small smile, reaching out in turn to adjust his older brother’s work badge. He did so with stiff, slowed movements. A distinct, horrendous parody of comfort.

  If anyone was watching them, they would surely be laughing.

  He glanced down at the badge. It read in bold characters: Ground Enforcer Lahn, C.

  With his tie finally in place and Chet drawing himself away, Kaiso said, “I need to go.”

  “Alright, then,” Chet nodded. He shifted uneasily on his legs, the one with the limp making him dip a little lower.

  Kaiso turned away, ready to depart

  But before he could, there was a finger running over Kaiso’s cheekbone. His brother drew away a stray strand of hair, right under his left eye. The medical patch kept it safely hidden away.

  He grew still, watching as Chet tucked the strands of hair behind his ear, keeping it in place. His brother spoke through a whisper, “You’ll tell me if anything goes wrong.”

  Kaiso could not determine if that had been an order or a request. It was juvenile, the way he replied, “I’ll be fine.”

  But his brother had every right to be worried. Because it was a lie.

  The Blessing lived on within him, more powerful than ever.

  — And that was not even Kaiso’s greatest secret.

  “I... I’m sorry. You’re right.” After a chaste smile, his brother moved to head back to the cup of coffee he had abandoned on the wobbly refectory bench they called their dining table. “Have a good day, seagrape.”

  “Don’t call me that,” Kaiso laughed softly, scrunching his face up the same way he would have if he was still 5 and Chet was 12.

  Kaiso closed the door just as his brother called out a reply.

  He walked through the hallway of the tenement building, stashing his duplicate key in his sock. It didn’t take him long to reach the public bathroom at the end of the hallway. The door was covered in expletives and scribbles.

  Kaiso held his nose as he entered.

  It was a wet bathroom. So, a showerhead hung from the wall, directly above the squatting toilet. The scent was unbearable and Kaiso kept his nose pinched to avoid gagging.

  Slipping off his outerwear, he replaced it instead with the black frock coat he had folded into his satchel. He straightened the collar again, and looked at himself in the bathroom’s cracked and stained mirror.

  Slowly, he drew his outerwear’s robe apart, pulling out the roll of gauze he kept within.

  He began to wrap the thin linen across his face, shielding his features away from view.

  With gentle hands, he removed the patch covering his left eye. A glimmering shade of gold greeted him.

  Kaiso— or Kizuna as well, he mused—let out a resigned sigh.

  His gaze fell upon his tie, immaculately done by his brother.

  “Good morning, Hun,” K whispered.

  ‘Good morning, Sire.’

  He ran a finger through the tie’s knot, promptly undoing it as he finally stepped out of the bathroom.