The atmosphere in the room turns sour when I bend my knees before the altar. My skin prickles at the hostile stares I know are directed at my back. My throat clamps up. No, I shouldn’t worry. I’ve had practice not letting my anxiety show, they wouldn’t guess my internal state no matter how much they stare.

My bruised jaw gives an aching throb. Right, even my body agrees there are more dangerous things to be afraid of. What a difference in treatment between Ling Ge and I, though. It’s almost as if Ying Ze already plans to turn a deaf ear no matter what I’d prepared.

Whatever. I can’t get distracted now, not when my freedom hangs by a thread. I can pour over that conspiracy when my neck isn’t on the chopping block. Ling Ge’s demonstration was the perfect blueprint, all I have to do is follow it.

“Alright,” I clear my throat. “Shi Ning, as my greatest rival–”

“You were never on the same level,” Ying Ze interrupts callously. “Don’t make outlandish claims. Start over, and think carefully before you deign to speak.”

“…Fine.” She could have at least waited for me to finish the sentence. “Shi Ning–”

“Do not refer to my daughter so casually.”

My patience was already fraying. “Han Shi Ning,” I say as calmly as possible. “We might have grown up as sisters, but we’ve never once gotten along. I remember being aware of how different you were when I first met you. You were probably aware of it too. We took opposite sides in everything, even with kind of food we liked. The only thing similar about us is being quick to anger at useless things.”

I pause, wary of interruptions. Thankfully, there are none, so I continue. “We fought over everything. You won most of our fights. My wins were minor, but they were enough. You didn’t like how easily I was satisfied so you decided to degrade me for being puny and weak. If I’m honest, the only reason you won so much was because you constantly took advantage of your position–”

“Don’t assume you can slander her just because I’ve allowed you to speak your mind. Start over!”

My knees are starting to ache. I debate on the merits of apologizing cross-legged with my ass planted to the floor. It’s the thought that counts, right?

“Forgive me for my loose tongue, Shi Ning.” I accentuate every word. “I meant to say that you did not abuse your position as the daughter of the richest family in the country.”

“Did you not hear me?” Ying Ze demands. “I instructed you to start from the beginning.”

I get to my feet and turn to glare at Ying Ze. “Didn’t you say I’m not part of your family? Why are you ordering me around, then? And while we’re on the subject,” I point to Ling Ge. “I didn’t see you interrupting your son’s speech to give pointers.”

Ying Ze’s cheeks are flushed with anger. “Mei Ling!”

“Nepotism isn’t a good look for a hag. It makes the crow’s feet around your eyes twice as obvious.”

“You’re threading on thin ice. Before you disobey me again–”

“What, you’ll have that Moriarty lookalike beat me up?” I gesture at Sherlock, “Hey asshole, you should think about changing your name!”

Time seems to slow when I see Sherlock grasp the handle sticking out from his belt. Every fibre of my body tenses, my mind racing a mile a minute. Where’s he going to aim and will I be fast enough to avoid it?

“Stop!” Ying Ze’s order stalls Sherlock’s movement. “Do not act out of turn until I give the order.”

My eyes are fixed on the blade. The edges are viciously serrated and the blade curves into a wicked hook that in a pointed tip. Sherlock could probably split a stomach open or slice through bone without exerting much effort.

Sherlock draws in a deep breath. “…understood,” he says, sliding the weapon back into its sheath. He didn’t take his eyes off me. Clearly, I underestimated how deep his inferiority complex about his name went.

I clutch at the hem of my shirt, trying to get my breathing under control.

I did it again.

I won’t lie and say my outburst didn’t give me some catharsis, but was it worth provoking an obviously dangerous man who would have killed me if Ying Ze’s tongue hadn’t been quick enough?

This is why I never bothered visiting the Hans after I left with Auntie Bao. I always feared any sort of contact with them would make me regress into the short tempered, lonely individual I had to be to survive there. So far, what I’ve taken from this debacle is that my inability to restrain my mouth and temper when dealing anyone with the Han surname is more dangerous than I initially assumed.

There was a time where I had craved to be one of the Hans to the point where I would have done anything, even denounce my own existence, to get it. I

It was an uphill battle to grow myself into someone who doesn’t rely on that kind of external validation to feel whole, but I did it. Or I thought I did. Reality has a way of proving me wrong. Does it mean I haven’t changed at all?

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“Don’t you have anything to add to this shitshow?” I direct the question to Ling Ge who’s lounging on the bed. “You look like you’re enjoying how unreasonable your mother is acting.”

“This doesn’t involve me,” he says. “It’ll probably help if both of you stopped going for each other’s throats every five seconds.”

“Yeah it’s my fault I can’t kiss Shi Ning’s ass as well as you can,” I snipe back. Then to Ying Ze, “You might as well hand me script to read off since you won’t accept anything I’ve come up with.”

“You’ve proved my assumptions,” Ying Ze tells me. “You said you were willing to admit your crimes but your actions show otherwise. You lack patience. You lack sincerity.”

“I’m amazed you can say that with a straight face,” I say. “What’s your claim based off? How can you be a hundred percent certain Ling Ge’s sincere and I’m not? He tried to attack you earlier. He’s not the person he wants you to think he is, but you keep trusting his words over mine anyway!”

“He’s my son,” Ying Ze says, like that mere fact should be enough to absolve her constant denial to see what’s in front of her.

“And I’m supposed to be your daughter!” I throw my hands up. “I never knew my birth mother. I don’t care if she’s dead or alive, you could tell me where she is right now and I still wouldn’t give a shit. Father made me part of this family. I’ve done everything you asked, I’m still doing it even now!”

My chest heaves as I shout the words like they’re my last line of defense. To be frank, they are. If she doesn’t respond, my ending is imminent.

“Please,” I say. “What can I do to make you hear me?”

If Ying Ze was the person I wished her to be, she would be touched at my distress. Ying Ze would realize the truth to my words, that Ling Ge would lead her down the path of ruin. I don’t need her affection. I don’t need her to acknowledge how she’s wronged me. I just need her to trust me, even if what runs in my blood didn’t come from her.

One chance. That’s all.

Without blinking, Ying Ze calls over her shoulder, “Consider this an order. Remove her from my sight, permanently.”

I grab a brass candlestick. I shove the altar off the desk and watch the items spill out like a deluge of trash. The pink box doesn’t break on impact and bounces several feet away. The remaining candlestick lands soundlessly on the furred carpet, the glass bell cover lying near Shi Ning’s portrait. The dried fur catches fire. The flames begin to spead.

I dust off my hands. “Shi Ning can burn in hell.”

I immediately duck and roll. I hear a solid thunk above me and curse. I hoped the weapon would have gone out the window. It’s unfortunate, but I’ll just have to make sure I get far enough that he can’t gut me with it.

I don’t make an attempt to steal the blade that’s stuck in the nearby shelf. In normal circumstance, a weapon would be useful. But Sherlock would disarm me in seconds, and I don’t want to find out if he can kill me with his bare hands.

I’m certain it would be the end if he caught a hold of me. I need to escape and hide long enough to come up with a better plan. Like calling for help. If I have the luxury of thinking further, I’d also call up any media outlets keen on exposing the Hans. I’m sure there plenty of people who want to see them fall off their high horse for once.

I crawl past the growing patch of flames as fast I can. I close my hand around the skinny leg of the chair I was bound to just as the stomp of boots closes in.

I flip onto my back and heave the chair at Sherlock. He guards against it but stumbles back. I scramble to my feet and grab the piece of wood I had seen earlier. I charge at him.

Sherlock’s expression of surprise ignites my adrenaline. His arms fly up to block my attack. But that’s not what I aim for. I go low and drive the sharpened point of the wood into the flesh above his knee. It goes in with less difficulty then I expect, almost like a fork sliding into jelly.

Sherlock’s kick plants me square in my chest. I’m sent tumbling backwards into the door. I pick myself up and look up to see Sherlock, his eyes a pair of steel flints, locked on the wood sticking out of his leg. One large hand wraps around the wooden splinter, and he pulls it out without hesitation.

I throw the door open and stumble out without looking back. His wound will delay him, but not for long. I need to get out of here.

My heart pounds frantically in my ears. Still slightly dizzied, I pause in the middle of the hallway take in my surroundings. I feel a pang of relief when I realize where I am.

“Hah, this place hasn’t changed after so many years.”

The Han family estate is a situated on a property not far from the city. I haven’t been here in more than a year, but I still have the advantage of familiarity. There are plenty of hiding nooks, and even better, other methods of communication aside from phone lines.

I won’t die as long as I can hide long enough to escape.

I start running down the stretch of hallway. I know Sherlock won’t catch up once he loses sight of me.

“Mei!” I hear a familiar voice that cripples me with a wave of relief. Athea turns the corner at the end of hallway. “I’m here!”

At the sight of my best friend, the exhaustion from today’s events slam into me like a concrete wall. I have so many things to tell her. I don’t know if she can help, but so long as someone willingly stands by me, I have no intention of going quietly.

My feet slow. “Athe–”

My breath leaves my body as a jut of cold forces its way through my ribs. I lose my balance. The sensation of falling is made worse at the sight of something long and sharp sticking out of my chest. It’s not silver anymore, but a deep, vivid red. I guess I was right. It’s really is ridiculously sharp.

I feel a pair of arms around me. My body is lowered to the floor, the touch of hands so gentle it almost makes me cry. No, wait. I am crying. This is so embarrassing.

Athea squeezes my hand. “Mei, don’t be afraid. You won’t die, I made sure of it.”

“Ath…” I think say her name. Does my voice always sound like that? “…rry.”

“Don’t just watch me!” Athea yells at someone I can’t see. “Find me a body so I can– no. Wait, why is she still…” Athea sounds shrill. “No, why isn’t it activating?”

“You said you had it handled.” I don’t recognize this voice. It’s… kind of pleasing to hear. This might be what disembodied voices are supposed to sound like. A narrator from nature documentary. “Wasn’t she supposed to have a Blessing?”

“She does! Can’t you feel it?” Athea’s hands are on my face. Wow, she’s warm. “I don’t understand. Her spiritual energy shouldn’t be disappearing, not with the Blessing I gave her. Where in Gordred’s name is it going?”

I try saying something, but I can’t hear what leaves my lips. I hope it’s funny. I’ll feel terrible if Athea starts bawling. Or not, because I’ve never seen her shed a tear. Not even when someone ruined her favourite car with graffiti and spray painted dicks.

“Mei,” Athea’s voice wavers. “I’ll find you. No matter where you are, I will make sure to find you again.”

I squeeze her hand.

And then...

…

…

…

“Another one in such quick succession? How rare.”

“What is this…?”

“I bid you a warm welcome to Nexus. Now that you are here, I have but a single question.

In which realm do you wish your spiritual energy be revived?”