The air in the archives department was thick with the scent of paper and the hum of an outdated air conditioner struggling against the midday heat. Liliane Tsukihi sat stiffly at her desk, meticulously organizing files under the watchful gaze of Mei, her self-proclaimed mentor and self-styled chaos gremlin. Mei leaned against the desk, playing with a pen while seeing her screen, and listening to the gossips of love around the office, a smirk tugging at her lips as she glanced to watch Liliane work.

  “You know,” Mei began, her tone carrying the playful edge of a predator circling its prey, “people are talking about relationships again. Third floor romances, secret breakroom rendezvous—you get the picture. Speaking of which, Lily, got anyone you’re interested in?”

  Liliane froze, the file in her hand slipping from her grip. “I-I… uh… interested?” she stammered, cheeks flushing an embarrassing shade of pink. “What do you mean?”

  Mei snorted, clearly enjoying the reaction. “Come on, you’re not that clueless, are you? What about that guy from your interview? You know, the one you were mumbling about—gave you a scarf or something? Sounds like the start of a rom-com to me.”

  Liliane’s blush deepened, and she busied herself with the fallen file. “It’s not like that,” she mumbled. “He… he was kind. That’s all. I haven’t even seen him since then. I’m not even sure if he was hired.”

  “Hmm,” Mei mused, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Kind, huh? That’s a pretty low bar, but I guess it’s something. You sure it’s not ‘kind and mysterious’ or ‘kind and broody’? Maybe ‘kind and secretly plotting your demise’?”

  Liliane gave her a helpless look. “I… I don’t know. He seemed… different.”

  Mei’s grin widened. “Oh, this is getting interesting.”

  Liliane tried to redirect the conversation back to their work, but Mei wasn’t letting up. The teasing lasted well into the afternoon, with Mei throwing in exaggerated theories about Liliane’s “mystery guy.” Liliane endured it with a mix of flustered embarrassment and genuine confusion about why Mei was so fascinated.

  As they filed away the last stack of papers for the day, Liliane glanced toward the hallway leading out of the archives. That’s when she saw him.

  Hollow walked with a measured, almost lazy pace, his expression unreadable as usual. His figure, slightly below average in height and dressed in a plain button-up shirt and slacks, wasn’t particularly striking. Yet, there was something about him that caught her attention immediately. Maybe it was the way he seemed so out of place, as though he didn’t quite belong in this busy, bustling world.

  “There,” Liliane blurted out, nudging Mei’s shoulder. “That’s him!”

  Mei tilted her head, squinting at Hollow’s retreating figure while using her hands as shades for visual assistance. “Wait… that’s your guy? Huh. Not what I was expecting.”

  “What do you mean?” Liliane asked, frowning slightly.

  “I dunno, just… thought he’d have more of a presence or something. He looks kinda… meh.”

  Liliane’s cheeks puffed slightly in indignation. “He’s not ‘meh.’ He’s just—”

  “Kind, mysterious, and totally plotting your demise. Got it,” Mei interrupted with a grin, earning a frustrated huff from Liliane. “Relax, Lily, I’m just messing with you. But if you’re that interested, why don’t you just go talk to him?”

  “I was planning to… to return his scarf,” Liliane admitted, her voice softening. “But I lost track of him.”

  Mei rolled her eyes. “You’re hopeless.”

  Later, during their break, Liliane and Mei made their way to the break room. The small, brightly lit space buzzed with quiet chatter as coworkers gathered for their lunches. Liliane scanned the room, and there he was again.

  Hollow sat at a table with Felix and another coworker, a young woman who seemed to be talking animatedly. Hollow, in contrast, looked about as engaged as a rock in a museum display, staring off into the middle distance while occasionally nodding out of sheer obligation.

  Mei nudged Liliane with her elbow. “Well, would you look at that. He’s not just a mystery guy—he’s your mystery guy. And look, he’s already got a fan club.” Her teasing grin widened. “Jealous?”

  Liliane flushed. “Of course not! I just… I need to give him back his scarf.”

  “Sure, sure,” Mei said, smirking. “That’s all it is.”

  Liliane hesitated, clutching the scarf tightly in her hands. Just as she took a step forward, the room changed.

  The lights flickered, plunging the break room into brief shadows. A low, oppressive hum filled the air—then, suddenly, an earthquake struck. The ground trembled beneath them, as if something ancient and unseen had stirred. Conversations turned into shouts of panic as people scrambled to hold onto something.

  Liliane’s heart raced. She gripped the table for support, her instincts from centuries of battle flaring to life. Her gaze darted to Hollow, and what she saw sent a chill down her spine.

  Hollow was standing, his posture tense, his eyes glowing a faint but unmistakable crimson. For a fleeting moment, his calm, detached facade cracked, replaced by a primal alertness that she knew all too well. The Lord of the Abyss. It was him.

  The tremor ceased, and the lights returned to normal. Hollow blinked, his eyes returning to their usual dull hue. He glanced around the room, seemingly unaware of what had just occurred.

  Liliane, however, couldn’t move. Her fingers tightened around the scarf, her mind racing as the realization hit her like a tidal wave. He was here. Her nemesis, the monster she had fought for centuries, was standing before her in human form.

  “Lily?” Mei’s voice broke through the haze. “You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Was it your first earthquake?”

  Liliane swallowed hard, forcing a shaky smile. “I’m fine. I just… I need some air.”

  Before Mei could respond, Liliane turned and hurried out of the room, the scarf slipping from her grasp and landing in the nearest trash bin.

  Mei stared after her, then glanced at the discarded scarf. At first confused, but then glancing back at the table. “Wow. Didn’t realize she’d get so worked up over seeing her guy with another girl. Jealousy does weird things to people, huh?”

  Liliane’s thoughts swirled in a relentless storm as she made her way back to her desk. Mei’s teasing echoed faintly in her ears, but she couldn’t focus on a single word. Her heart thudded against her chest, her mind replaying the moment over and over again: the glow in his eyes, the tension in his stance. It was him. There was no doubt.

  “Lily, you okay? You’re weirdly quiet,” Mei said, poking her shoulder.

  Liliane barely managed a nod. “I’m fine,” she muttered, staring at the screen in front of her as if it held the answers to her turmoil.

  Mei wasn’t convinced, but for once, she didn’t press. By the end of the workday, as they packed up to leave, Mei gave her a knowing smile. “Don’t overthink it, okay? Whatever’s going on with you and scarf guy, it’s probably not as dramatic as it feels. See you tomorrow, Lily.”

  Liliane offered a faint smile in return. “Yeah… see you.”

  But Mei’s words didn’t stick. As the evening settled in, Liliane found herself walking the path through the dimly lit park that led from the office to her apartment. She clutched a stolen box cutter tightly in her pocket, her fingers trembling—not from fear, but from the sheer weight of what she was about to do.

  When she spotted him, her heart skipped a beat. Hollow was ahead, his figure silhouetted by the glow of a distant streetlamp. He walked slowly, his posture relaxed, as if completely unaware of the danger trailing behind him.

  “Hey,” she called out, her voice firm but edged with nervous energy.

  Hollow turned, his expression shifting from mild indifference to mild surprise. “Oh,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “It’s you. The girl from the interview, right?”

  Liliane’s grip on the box cutter tightened. She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “You don’t even recognize me, do you? After everything we’ve been through.”

  Hollow blinked, clearly puzzled. “Been through? What are you talking about?”

  Liliane’s frustration boiled over. She pulled the box cutter from her pocket, pushed up the blade and held it out in front of her, trembling. “I’m Liliane Moonlight. The Radiant. The one who spent centuries fighting you.”

  For a moment, Hollow stared at her, unblinking. Then, his eyes lit up—not with malice, but with a pure innocent-like joy. “Liliane?” he repeated, his voice carrying a note of disbelief. “You’re here? In this world?”

  His grin widened, his entire demeanor shifting. He looked… happy. Excited, even. His eyes sparkled with something akin to nostalgia, as if he’d just found a long-lost friend. “I can’t believe it,” he said, taking a step closer. “It’s really you.”

  Liliane faltered, her grip on the box cutter loosening. But she readjusted herself with an angry but confused expression and tone “What… what are you so happy about? Don’t you realize why I’m here!?”

  Hollow’s gaze dropped to the box cutter in her hand, noticing the company property sticker. He raised an eyebrow. “What… Did you steal that from the company?” He looked unamused, his grin turning slightly playful. “You got some packages back home?”

  Liliane’s face burned with embarrassment. “That’s not the point!” she snapped. “I’m here to put an end to you. To finish what we started.”

  Hollow chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Put an end to me? Like this?” He gestured at himself, his unimposing human form. “Lily, I hate to break it to you, but I’m just a guy now. No powers, no hunger for human flesh, nothing. Fighting like this… it’d be pathetic.”

  Liliane stared at him, completely thrown off. “Pathetic? You destroyed towns. You killed without mercy. And you think this is just… just some game?”

  Hollow’s expression softened, his grin fading slightly. “Game?” he repeated, his tone curious. “I mean… we used to have fun, didn’t we? You were strong, I was strong. It was… exciting.”

  Liliane’s breath hitched. The sheer audacity of his words left her speechless. He genuinely didn’t understand. To him, their battles had been a game—a way to pass the centuries. But for her, they had been life and death, a constant struggle to protect the innocent from his endless hunger.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “You’re unbelievable,” she muttered, lowering the box cutter slightly. “How can you… how can you say that after everything you’ve done?”

  Hollow tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “I guess I never thought about it like that,” he admitted. “But… it’s different now, isn’t it? We’re human. So… what’s the point?”

  Liliane didn’t have an answer. She stood there, the box cutter trembling in her hand, as Hollow watched her with a mixture of curiosity and calm indifference. For the first time, she didn’t know how to fight him.

  Liliane’s grip on the box cutter tightened again as her frustration surged. Hollow’s casual dismissal of everything he had done was infuriating. He stood there, calm and unbothered, as if they were simply reminiscing about a sparring match.

  “You don’t get it, do you?” Liliane snapped, her voice trembling with barely contained anger. “You destroyed families. Entire villages. You turned innocent people into monsters like you. How can you stand there and act like it was just… just some game?”

  Hollow blinked, his expression one of mild confusion. “I mean… wasn’t it, though? You killed Abyssals, I killed humans. It was just the way things were. We both had our sides.”

  Liliane recoiled as if struck. “You can’t compare what I did to what you did! I fought to protect people from you.”

  “And I fought because that’s what I was,” Hollow said simply, shrugging. “Abyssals hunger. It’s not like we had a choice, Liliane. We were following our instincts. You did what you had to do, and so did I.”

  “That doesn’t make it right!” she shouted, her voice echoing through the empty park.

  Hollow sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I’m not saying I didn’t do all those kinds of things. I’m just saying that’s how things worked. And… well, we’re not in that world anymore, are we?”

  Liliane’s hands shook, her anger boiling over. She opened her mouth to retort, but something made her pause. A strange, oppressive sensation crept up her spine—a heavy, cold weight that seemed to press against her very soul. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it sent a chill through her nonetheless.

  Hollow stiffened, his gaze snapping past Liliane. His casual demeanor vanished in an instant, replaced by a sharp focus she hadn’t seen before. His eyes narrowed, his body tensing like a coiled spring.

  “Get down!” he shouted, lunging toward her.

  Liliane barely had time to react. She saw his movement, her instincts screaming that he was attacking. Reflexively, she swung the box cutter upward as he collided with her, both of them tumbling to the ground. The blade pierced his abdomen, but he didn’t even flinch.

  “What are you—” she began, but her words were drowned out by the deafening sound of metal splitting and trees shattering.

  A devastating, invisible force sliced through the park with terrifying precision. A light pole behind her groaned and collapsed, its upper half severed by a blunt jagged force. Nearby trees splintered, their trunks bearing jagged marks that dug deep into the earth. The ground beneath them bore diagonal gashes, as if an enormous unseen beast had raked its claws across it.

  Liliane’s breath caught in her throat as the realization struck her. If Hollow hadn’t pushed her down, she would’ve been caught in the attack.

  Hollow lay over her, one hand pressed to the wound in his abdomen, the other braced against the ground. His face, far from showing pain or fear, lit up with a spark of exhilaration.

  “Well, that’s new,” he said, his voice laced with an almost childlike wonder. “Looks like we’ve got company.”

  Liliane pushed against him, glaring up at him with a mix of anger and confusion. “What the hell was that?”

  “Something big,” Hollow said, standing and pulling her up with him. He ignored the blood seeping through his shirt, his attention locked on the darkness where the attack had come from. “Something spiritual.”

  Liliane’s eyes widened. “That’s impossible. There’s no way—”

  “Oh, it’s possible,” Hollow interrupted, his tone practically giddy. “And it’s strong. I can feel it.”

  He turned to her, his grin wide despite the blood dripping from his side. “You might want to be on guard, Radiant. This could get interesting.”

  Liliane stared at him, his wound, utterly baffled. “You’re bleeding out, and you’re excited?”

  Hollow shrugged, his stance relaxed despite the tension in the air. “If it’s a spiritual being, it’s the first thing in this world that might actually be worth fighting.”

  Before she could respond, another wave of oppressive energy washed over them, even stronger than before. Hollow’s grin widened.

  “Let’s see what it’s got,” he said, his voice low and eager.

  Hollow took a step forward, his sharp gaze fixed on the dark, trembling void in front of them. The oppressive energy was unmistakable now—whatever was out there wasn’t just strong; it was malevolent.

  Liliane reached for him, panic lacing her voice. “What are you doing? You’re hurt—you can’t possibly think—”

  But Hollow didn’t hear her. Or if he did, he didn’t care. The presence of the spiritual being, the sheer weight of its power, had ignited something in him. For a brief, reckless moment, he forgot the frailty of his human form. His lips curled into a feral grin as he surged forward, straight toward the unseen predator.

  “Hollow, stop!” Liliane’s voice was drowned out by the sound of his footsteps pounding against the dirt.

  The air grew heavier as the creature lashed out, its invisible claws ripping through the ground where Hollow had stood just a second earlier. He moved with startling precision, dodging the attacks with an agility that belied his human limitations. But he couldn’t escape entirely. One of the slashes grazed his side, leaving jagged marks across his ribs, his shirt tearing as fresh blood seeped through the fabric.

  “Still got it,” he muttered to himself, grimacing as the sting registered. But he didn’t stop. As another wave of energy surged toward him, he leapt into the air, his body twisting with the ferocity of his past instincts. He landed a flying kick toward where he thought the creature might be.

  It connected—barely. His foot struck something solid, and pain shot through his leg like a bolt of lightning. The impact felt like slamming into a concrete wall. He stumbled back, his weight shifting awkwardly as his human body screamed in protest.

  “This is hopeless.” he admitted aloud, limping as he retreated. The creature retaliated, the oppressive aura sharpening like claws raking across his senses. Hollow raised his arms instinctively, but the next strike didn’t come.

  Instead, he pivoted, running back toward Liliane. She stood frozen, her eyes wide with disbelief and panic as the air rippled around her, the presence closing in.

  “Time to go,” Hollow said, grabbing her hand firmly.

  “What—wait, what are you—” Liliane stammered, but Hollow didn’t let her finish. He pulled her along, forcing her to run as the air behind them erupted in a flurry of destructive energy.

  They sprinted through the park, the shadows chasing them with an unrelenting fury. Hollow led the way, his grip on Liliane’s hand steady despite the blood dripping from his wounds. Every muscle in her body screamed to stop, but the sheer terror in the air kept her moving.

  When they finally emerged from the park’s boundaries, the oppressive weight lifted. The night was quiet again, save for their ragged breaths. Liliane stumbled to a stop, doubling over as she tried to catch her breath.

  “What the hell was that?” she managed, her voice trembling.

  Hollow leaned against a lamppost, his expression calm but distant. “A spiritual presence. Strong one, too. Haven’t felt anything like that since…”

  His voice trailed off as he looked down at his shirt. The fabric was soaked through, the gray now a deep crimson. Blood dripped from the wound in his abdomen and the fresh slashes on his side, pooling on the sidewalk beneath him.

  Liliane straightened, her eyes widening as she took in the sight. “You’re—Hollow, you’re bleeding!”

  He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. That happens when you get stabbed and clawed, I guess.”

  “That’s not funny!” Liliane snapped, stepping closer. She reached for him, hesitating only slightly. “You’re losing so much blood. We need to—”

  “I’m fine,” Hollow interrupted, his tone dismissive. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

  Liliane stared at him, her anger giving way to something softer—something she didn’t want to name. He had saved her. Thrown himself into danger without hesitation. And she had repaid him by stabbing him. The realization twisted uncomfortably in her chest.

  “Just… let me help you,” she said quietly, her fingers brushing against his arm. “At least let me treat your wounds.”

  Hollow tilted his head, his usual indifference giving way to a faint flicker of surprise. He studied her for a moment, then shrugged. “If it’ll make you feel better.”

  Liliane sighed, already pulling out her phone to find the nearest pharmacy. “You’re unbelievable,” she muttered, more to herself than to him.

  Hollow’s lips quirked into a faint smile as he leaned back against the lamppost, his gaze drifting toward the park. “Is that so?”

  Outside the pharmacy, Hollow leaned casually against the wall, his face illuminated faintly by the glow of a streetlamp. His shirt bore a spreading crimson stain, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care.

  Liliane emerged moments later, tightening her coat around herself to hide the bloodstains that had seeped into her clothes. A small pharmacy bag dangled from her hand, her grip firm and her movements brisk. She glanced at Hollow briefly before muttering, “Let’s go.”

  Hollow pushed off the wall and fell into step beside her, his footsteps quiet yet steady. Liliane kept her gaze forward, her lips pressed into a thin line as her thoughts churned, the tension between them as heavy as the silence of the night.

  Hollow’s apartment was exactly what Liliane expected: sparse, cold, and devoid of personality. The small space consisted of a small living area with couch and table, kitchen and a bedroom further. The walls were blank, the shelves empty, and the kitchen looked like it hadn’t been used once. If anything, it felt less like a home and more like a temporary holding space.

  “You live here?” she asked, her voice soft but tinged with disbelief.

  “Well, yes,” Hollow said simply, moving to sit on the edge of the couch. He pulled his blood-soaked shirt slightly away from his torso, examining the torn fabric with vague disinterest. “Do what you need to do.”

  Liliane hesitated before pulling out the supplies she had bought. Her hands trembled slightly as she unpacked them, the events of the night catching up to her. “Take off your shirt,” she said, her tone brisk, more out of practicality than anything else.

  Hollow complied without a word, pulling the tattered fabric over his head and dropping it onto the floor. Liliane stared for a moment, her gaze drawn to the deep slashes across his ribs and the gaping wound in his abdomen. The sight made her stomach churn. But the other thing she checked for was the Black Hole he used to have in his chest, the mark of an Abyssal, it was truly gone.

  “Doesn’t that… hurt?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost unsure.

  “It’s no big deal," Hollow replied, as if that explained everything. When he saw her frown, he added, “When I was an Abyssal the hunger used to hurt much more. Always did. The stronger I got, the stronger the hunger became. It was constant, like having my insides clawed apart.”

  Liliane froze, the cloth in her hand halfway to his side. She didn’t know what she had expected him to say, but the bluntness of it caught her off guard. “You mean… all the time?”

  He nodded. “You get used to it. Makes this stuff”—he gestured to the knife wound and claw marks—“feel like a sting.”

  She didn’t respond, focusing instead on cleaning the wounds. Her hands were steady now, her mind fixated on the task at hand. Hollow’s calmness unnerved her, but she pushed the thought aside. The sooner she patched him up, the sooner she could leave.

  The process took longer than she expected. Cleaning, stitching, and bandaging the wounds felt like an eternity, though it was likely less than an hour. Hollow sat still the entire time, his expression neutral, as if he were merely waiting for the rain to stop.

  “You’re lucky you’re not dead,” Liliane said as she finished wrapping the last bandage.

  “Not my first close call,” he replied almost jokingly, leaning back slightly. “Won’t be my last.”

  She exhaled sharply, sitting back on her cushioned seat. “You saved me back there,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter. “Why?”

  He looked at her, his gaze steady. "I wouldn’t allow you to die like that. Especially not after just meeting you again."

  The simplicity of his words startled her, but this time, they carried a weight that left her momentarily speechless. "Not after just meeting you again." The phrase echoed in her mind, tugging at something deep within her chest.

  It wasn’t grand or poetic, but there was something unshakably honest about it. She couldn’t tell if he meant it as sentiment or just cold practicality, and that uncertainty made it linger all the more.

  Liliane glanced away, her hands fumbling with the supplies as she tried to focus. “You’re strange,” she murmured under her breath, unsure if she wanted him to hear it or not.

  By the time she finished, it was well past midnight. Liliane glanced at the clock, then at the couch where Hollow sat, his eyes closed but his breathing steady. She stood, brushing off her skirt. “I should go,” she said softly.

  Hollow opened his eyes, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll see you out.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  But before she could finish, his body gave out. He stumbled, collapsing forward, and Liliane barely had time to catch him. His weight pressed against her, and she staggered, lowering him carefully onto the couch.

  “Hollow!” she said sharply, but his eyes were closed, his breathing shallow. Panic surged through her as she checked his pulse, finding it steady but weak. The blood loss and exhaustion had finally caught up to him.

  She stared down at him, her emotions tangled in a web of confusion and frustration. This was her enemy—the one she had sworn to kill. He was right here, vulnerable and defenseless. It would be so easy.

  Her fingers brushed against the bandages she had so carefully applied. The memory of him shielding her, throwing himself into harm’s way without hesitation, flashed through her mind. Could she really justify killing him now?

  With a frustrated sigh, she reached for the blanket draped over the back of the couch and covered him. “You don’t even make it easy to hate you...” she muttered, sitting back against the wall. The adrenaline had faded, leaving her body heavy and her mind clouded.

  She didn’t intend to stay. But as the minutes ticked by and her eyes grew heavier, she realized she didn’t have the energy to leave. For now, she would stay. Just until morning.