When Yuna ‘died’, an old memory flashed before her eyes, going back to the day she lost everything.

In her mind’s eye, she watched a family of four celebrating the Festival of the Masks, a popular triennial holiday among Jandarian citizens. Fireworks lit the sky with a reverie of colors, lovers shared intimate kisses in dark alleyways, and children screamed with delight at street performances. Almost everyone wore masks of varying caricatures to pay homage to Lady Fate.

A six year old girl with lush red hair was being dragged along by her excited younger brother. She laughed with joy, clearly affected by the jubilant occasion. Out of the corner of her eye, Yuna’s younger self saw her father lovingly peck his wife on the cheek. For a child, few things were more heartwarming than seeing one’s parents display mutual affection. She looked up to the night sky and thanked Lady Fate for all her blessings.

But Lady Fate is a fickle mistress. That night Yuna learned a hard truth - what the goddess could give, the goddess could as easily take away.

Two individuals, wearing shapeless masks, moved purposefully against the crowd and towards the unsuspecting couple. A flash of exposed blade left Yuna’s parents lying on the cobblestone, choking in their own blood. Yuna and her younger brother, Maximilian, having witnessed the transpiring event, screamed, but their cries were drowned by the maddening thrum of festivities. No one else in the crowd had noticed that two murders occurred right under their noses.

The masked individuals charged towards the siblings with ominous intent. In the heat of the moment, Yuna pushed her brother into the flow of the crowd.

“Run Max!” she yelled before he disappeared from view. That was the last time Yuna ever saw him.

The masked assassins loomed over her like the angels of death, but child Yuna swallowed her fear and raised her fists, which amused them. She tried to stall for time, yet without any training and having only lived to the tender age of six, Yuna’s resistance proved futile. Hot searing pain penetrated her abdomen, causing her to stagger and collapse. Once on the ground, Yuna painstakingly crawled to her parents’ bodies.

“Y...una, pro...tect y...our bro...th...,” Yuna’s mother uttered with her dying breath.

“I will, mama. I promise,” the girl cried. Soon after she too fell into unconscious bliss.

Yuna, unable to hold back the tears, watched the memory unravel like a tragic phantasmagorical play. Every moment accompanied gut-wrenching sorrow.

The scene abruptly vanished, returning everything to pitch black. Then two angelic beings glowing in celestial splendor appeared before Yuna.

“Father! Mother!” Yuna called out, recognizing the faces of the angels belonging to that of her deceased parents. However, the beings merely stared at her impassively. A trumpet blew and they began synchronously chanting:

Above the tomb of kings;

Dispense the nine rings;

From ashes it must die;

From ashes it must rise;

A treasure will unveil;

A power to prevail;

If a kingdom be saved;

A price must be paid;

Then the lords shall bow down;

And the phoenix shall be crowned.

“I don’t understand. What does it mean?” Yuna asked but was ignored. The angelic beings kept chanting, iteration after iteration, until Yuna felt she was going to go crazy.

“What are you saying?”

“Why won’t you answer me?

“Mother!”

“Father!”

“Stop!”

Yuna woke gasping. The bedsheets around her were soaked in sweat. It took a few seconds before she found her bearing, recalling her fight with Dimitraus and feeling of laying on the cold warehouse floor as her life ebbed away.

“Wait, where am I? Shouldn’t I be dead?” she wondered.

Yuna noticed that she was dressed in a white cotton gown, the type that wealthy merchants wore. Judging by the quality of fabric and the quaint decor of the bedroom, the house obviously didn’t belong in the slums. If the sounds of commerce and activity outside were any indication, Yuna suspected she was in a posh neighborhood of Jandar.

Finding herself in an unfamiliar environment put her on high alert. First things first. Yuna needed to secure her location, recover intelligence, and develop a plan. She grabbed a gold-minted letter opener off the desk in the room. It would serve as a passable weapon until she could acquire something better. Even without a weapon, Yuna was fairly confident she could take on most grown men.

The room was unlocked.

“Whoever captured me is going to regret not binding me with magic,” Yuna thought as she slipped out.

Apart from the ticking grandfather clock, the house was devoid of sound, making Yuna doubt whether anyone was actually home. She familiarized herself with the second floor, especially lingering in kitchen once she confirmed there was no one else around.

“The life of the wealthy sure is good,” Yuna commented as she savored a particularly tasty piece of salted jerky. The foam cake was delicious too but a little on the sweet side.

“Watching you eat is starting to make me hungry,” said a voice from behind.

Owing to Yuna’s conditioned reflex, one moment the letter opener was in her fingers and the next moment it was sailing across the kitchen in Ren’s direction. It happened so fast that if Ren had been a normal person, the letter opener would likely have snuffed out his life. Seeing the thing firmly lodged in the cover of the book that he used to shield himself came somewhat as a shock to Ren.

“Miss, I’d really appreciate it if we didn’t resort to violence.”

“Who are you?” Yuna snarled, more angry at seeing her attack blocked than having let her guard down. What would Master Icarus say? Either she was losing her edge, or this bespectacled man was more dangerous than he looked.

“That should be my question. I’m Ren, the owner of this house.”

“What am I doing here?”

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“Calm down, Miss. I’ll tell you everything as long as I won’t be target practice for anymore pointy objects,” replied Ren.

Yuna smirked. “That’ll depend on the nature of your answer.”

Setting the book on the counter, Ren moved closer to the girl, who tensed up like a cornered cat and backed away.

“Hey, easy there. I just want to be able to try a piece of my own homemade jerky before you devour it all. Oh, mmmfff, phis ish pretty good,” Ren sputtered with his mouth full.

The conversation was going nowhere, which made Yuna more anxious. Was he stalling for time?

Noticing the girl’s increasing anxiety, Ren carefully filled two glasses with water and placed one in front of her.

“I just want to be clear. You’re not a prisoner, so you may leave at any time you wish. But if you would like to know how you came to be here, we can talk about it downstairs. I don’t like leaving the shop unguarded during business hours,” suggested Ren.

Although Yuna’s gut instinct was to incapacitate the man in front of her and return to the Syndicate, she was also extremely curious about what Ren had to say. After all, she remembered suffering fatal wounds when she fought Dimitraus, so in all respects, she shouldn’t even be alive right now.

“Fine. I warn you though, don’t get any bright ideas,” responded Yuna, grabbing the glass of water.

Ren’s house was designed to accommodate a shop on the ground floor and living quarters upstairs. When Yuna had first woken up, she was technically in a bedroom on the third floor. Just by learning the home’s layout, Yuna knew that they were in one of the houses in the Ka’Mai district, often described as the shopping district for wealthy Jandarian citizens. Only in this district were homes such as Ren’s common. Nonetheless, this piece of information only made it more confusing for Yuna, who couldn’t figure out how she went from dying in an abandoned warehouse in the slums to waking up in one of the richest parts of Jandar.

The pair went down a level. Just as Ren had said, the floor was being used as a shop front. Rows upon rows of strange objects and antiques filled the shelves. In the back of the store was a circular table where they sat. This was probably where most business negotiations took place.

“Tell me what happened,” Yuna demanded, gripping the glass of water. Any object in her hand could be used as a weapon, which was the only reason why she brought it along with her.

“Around two days ago, I found you severely injured in a warehouse. It would appear that you had lost some sort of a fight. I daresay Miss, if anyone else had been there, you wouldn’t be alive right now. I had to expend a considerable amount of my healing magic to save you,” Ren explained, adjusting his glasses. He didn’t tell her the whole truth, just enough to make it believable. “By the way, I had my maid clean you and change your clothes, so you needn’t worry about any indecencies.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Yuna interjected. “I’ve never heard of anyone with the power to heal fatal injuries, not even the Pope of the Nyxean Church can do that. You’re telling me that you can use healing magic surpassing the Church’s?” Yuna raised her brow.

“The world is vast and mysterious, Miss. The bounds of possibility are merely constructs of your imagination and experiences. Have you ever heard of the black swan story?”

Yuna shook her head and scoffed. What Ren proposed was preposterous - a man who could literally save you from near death would be worshipped like a god. He definitely wouldn’t be this dingy shop owner.

Ignoring Yuna’s look of disbelief, Ren continued, “A fisherman lived on a lake. Every day, for fifty years, he watched millions of white swans feed on the flora. One day he had an argument about whether black swans existed. The fisherman claimed there were no such things as black swans since he hadn’t seen even one in fifty years. What do you think was the problem with his claim?”

“Simply having observed a lot of white swans is not enough to prove non-existence. In other words, empiricism can only get you so far,” Yuna replied, catching on to Ren’s meaning. “So I take it you’re claiming to be the black swan and it was just my lucky day?”

“I don’t claim, Miss. I simply am. Would a small demonstration suffice? I may need to borrow your glass.”

Out of burning curiosity and a desire to understand what really happened, Yuna nodded and pushed the full glass of water across the table.

Ren drank its entire content, then unhesitantly smashed the glass against the table with his bare hand. Blood snaked down his forearm. Some larger shards of glass buried themselves deep inside his palm and fingers.

Even for an assassin, Yuna was impressed by Ren’s ruthlessness. Who would’ve thought this wimpy looking man possessed such fortitude.

“Now observe, Miss,” Ren urged, placing his bloodied hand at the center of the table.

To Yuna’s surprise, the twisted flesh and deep cuts vanished without a trace. Under the semi-dried blood, it was apparent that Ren’s hand was now perfectly fine. Yuna inhaled deeply. Due to her extensive education and training from the Syndicate, she was knowledgeable about numerous subjects, including magic. What Ren had just done was simply impossible. No healing magic, even with the Goddess Nyx’s blessings, could possess just potency.

“How in the holy hells,” she blurted. “Who are you!?”

“I’ve already told you. I’m just Ren, proud owner of Ren’s Shop of Antiques and Artifacts. Businessman, librarian, dabbler, and a bit of a recluse. But with these healing powers, you can imagine why I value discretion and secrecy. Any other questions?”

“...Why were you at the warehouse?”

“Believe it or not, Miss, I own that warehouse by the pier. In fact, I own various properties scattered throughout Jandar. I occasionally make trips to check the state of my assets, as any good businessman should do.”

“I don’t know if you’re stupid or brave to visit the slums at night?” Yuna asked suspiciously, realizing Ren wasn’t being completely forthright. However, Yuna couldn’t blame him for not trusting her. And whether she liked it or not, the man appeared to have saved her life.

“Why did you save me?”

“Why shouldn’t I have saved you? As a fellow Jandarian, I believe if we all treated each other with a bit more kindness, the kingdom would be so much the better,” spoke Ren.

“An idealist,” Yuna concluded. From her experience, idealists never lived long. In this cruel world, they either eventually succumbed to corruption or ended up dead like her parents.

“Since I owe you a life debt, I will agree to keep your powers a secret. But this will be the last time we meet, so I’d like to give you piece of unsolicited advice before I go. Power and money is the name of the game in Jandar. You better lose your ideals fast or they’re going to get you killed. Even your healing magic won’t save you.”

“Well, I thank you for your concern, Miss. I shall keep in mind,” smiled Ren. “How should I address you?”

“Call me Portia, but it’s not like that matters,” Yuna replied with a tone of finality. Just as the conversation seemed to be wrapping up, the bell by the door twinkled, usually signaling the arrival of a customer.

“Grandma Nan, I’m sorry to have called you on your off day,” Ren greeted an old lady with greying hair.

“Dun worry, me boy, this old body o’ mine can still take a beatin’ or two. So the young lady is awake?” remarked Nan. The elderly woman took a moment to scrutinize Yuna, causing the latter to feel naked under the woman’s steady gaze.

Liking what she saw, Nan broke into a wide toothy smile which showcased a couple of missing teeth.

“I like her. Perfect for yah me boy. Bout time yah found someone to settle down with. It’ll do yah some good,” Nan sighed with delight.

Ren and Yuna both choked at the same time.

“Ahem. Grandma Nan, it’s not like that. She’s just a guest,” Ren clarified, quickly looking at Yuna to get affirmation. Yuna eagerly nodded in agreement.

“Wha? I dund’t heard what yah said. Guess me ear’s gettin’ bad,” Nan replied. “Come dear, lemme show yah the wardrobe.”

Nan grabbed Yuna’s hand and pulled her upstairs. Strength developed from decades of household chores went into Nan’s grip, preventing Yuna from slipping away. The girl stared daggers at Ren, who casually pretended not to see anything.

“Umm, it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Hope to see you again sometime,” Ren called after them. “Grandma Nan, if you don’t mind locking the doors when you leave.”

“I gotcha, me boy. You be going,” Nan responded from the next floor.

Ren chuckled all the way to the door, but the moment he stepped out, a complete transformation occured. Gone were the oversized spectacles and messy brown hair, now replaced by an eye-catching, black-haired man wearing pristine white gloves, a tailored suit, and an expensive long coat. He looked to be in his early twenties and carried a long black cane that tapered to a silver point. If it hadn’t been for his hazel eyes, there wouldn’t have been any similarities between the old Ren and his new look.

And despite the great number of pedestrians and carriages traveling to and fro on that autumn day, not a single soul had witnessed Ren’s transformation. Nobility, rich scions, bankers, magicians, and wealthy businessmen went about their day in complete obliviousness to the godlike existence amongst their mix.

For whom Ren graces, rejoice, and for whom Ren judges, despair.