I wore jat black coat and mask as I moved through the farm as quietly as possible, avoiding the traps I knew he’d set. I’d read about them in the novel, but seeing them in person was sothing else—woven nets hidden in the soil, wires disguised as vines, pressure triggers under loose dirt.
Ban wasn’t paranoid.
He was... thorough.
If this was how he treated vegetables, I didn’t even want to imagine how far he’d go with actual enemies.
I stopped just outside the field, the moonlight casting long shadows over rows of sleeping crops. My mask felt heavier than usual. My fingers tapped against the smooth porcelain, as if to remind myself that the mask was the role now, not .
When Ban appeared, I didn’t even hear him coming.
One mont, there was just wind and rustling leaves. The next, he was standing there—wide shoulders, arms like coiled ropes, eyes scanning like he could pull out of my own skin.
"Yeah, I see you’re not here for my vegetables," he said, voice steady but edged. "So, what’s your business?"
I let the modulator twist my voice into sothing low and alien.
[There’s nothing to fear. I’ve only co to make a proposal.]
He squinted. "A proposal?"
[Yes. One where you have nothing to lose... and everything to gain.]
His posture shifted, subtle but telling. Not backing down, but no longer ready to strike either. Good—at least I’d bought myself a minute.
"You talk like a traveling rchant," he said, "but you don’t sll like one."
That line almost made break character. Did this guy really sniff people?
[You notice slls?] I asked, tilting my head just slightly, keeping my tone slow and asured.
"I notice everything. Especially the scent of soone who’s stepped foot on a farm... or never has."
I had to improvise.
[Then you already know I’m not here to haggle over cabbages.]
His eyes narrowed. "Then why waste my ti?"
[Because, unlike others, you have no fixed roots.]
His tone sharpened. "That’s not true. Roots run deep, even if you can’t see them."
This was the tricky part. I needed to reel him in without sounding like so cult recruiter.
[Ah, but roots can be moved. Transplanted. Given richer soil... better sunlight.]
He didn’t flinch, but I could tell the words hit sothing. Maybe curiosity, maybe suspicion.
"You’re not talking about farming anymore, are you?"
[Call it... cultivation of a different kind.]
Ban’s eyes flicked toward my hands—sharp, asuring, like he was deciding whether I was a guest worth tolerating or a trespasser worth removing.
The longer we stood there, the more I could feel his patience thinning.
Not yet.
But then, his tone hardened. "Quit circling around and tell why you’re here."
The ssage was clear—keep stalling and he’d make his move.
...Well. Here goes nothing.
[Alright, I’ll get to the point.]
No hesitation. No wavering. Boldness was the only weapon that mattered now.
[Join us. Beco our comrade.]
In my head, I pictured myself not as so wandering negotiator, but as the mastermind who pulled the strings of the academy, an executive of a secret society whose influence seeped into every shadow. Soone far above the reach of the farr standing in front of .
"...A comrade?"
[Yes. Take His hand, and He will grant you what you desire.]
Of course, there was no "Him." There was no shadowy godlike figure backing . But it sounded better than admitting I was the top of the ladder. Mystery was leverage. And I had a plan—so in a sense, it wasn’t entirely a lie.
"...Can I ask a few questions first?"
[As many as you like. If you are chosen by Him, you have the right to question .]
Surprisingly, the words rolled out of my mouth without effort—smooth, confident. It was like sothing inside had been waiting for this mont.
No... it couldn’t be, right?
"Then my first question," Ban said, his voice steady despite the sweat glistening at his temple, "since you said ’we,’ am I right to assu there are others at your level in this... organization?"
Why did he look so tense?
-It’s the mask.
The voice ca from my jet-black tailcoat—or rather, from Lan, who had shifted into the shape of my tailcoat.
’The mask?’ I thought back.
-Yes. The mask’s perception interference makes the energy of your relics bleed together, like they’re all yours. To him, you don’t just seem strong—you seem... dangerous.
’I don’t really get the details, but that’s a good thing, right?’
-It is. It’s setting the perfect mood. To him, you probably reek of sothing sinister.
...Interesting.
He didn’t know it, but I could feel the heat of his stare even through the porcelain.
Ban stood like the earth itself had raised him there—steady, immovable. If I wanted to sway him, I’d have to tilt his ground without him noticing.
His question was a probe, not an invitation. He wasn’t curious; he was calculating—mapping out like a trap he hadn’t sprung yet.
I let the silence stretch, just long enough for him to start wondering if I’d answer at all.
Then I shifted my head slightly, so the moonlight caught the mask at an angle that obscured my eyes completely.
[Yes.]
My voice ca out slow, deliberate.
[Others exist. So greater than . So... lesser.]
That wasn’t strictly true, but ambiguity is a blade sharper than honesty.
His jaw moved like he was grinding a thought between his teeth. "And why would soone like you co here? To ?"
[Because certain roots grow better away from prying eyes. And you—] I let my gaze flick over him once, asured but unhurried. [—have been cultivating yourself in silence for too long.]
A gust of wind rustled the crops between us. His hand twitched toward the small knife at his belt—not to draw it, but to remind it was there.
"That’s a flowery way of saying nothing," Ban said.
[Sotis nothing is exactly what’s needed before planting sothing new.]
He didn’t like that answer. I could see it in the subtle tightening of his grip.
The mask’s perception haze was working; I could feel his instincts screaming at him to place in a box, but every ti he tried, the shape shifted.
Zaho Yuren voice curled in my mind like smoke.
-He’s halfway there. Keep feeding him mystery, not answers.
I almost smiled under the mask.
Ban exhaled through his nose, sharp but controlled. "If I refuse?"
[Then you’ll keep tending your fields, setting your traps, waiting for a storm you can’t stop.] I stepped forward—not enough to breach his periter, but enough for the soil between us to feel smaller. [And when that storm cos, you’ll wonder if maybe you should have taken my hand.]
His eyes didn’t blink. Neither did mine.
In the moonlight, I saw it—not surrender, not trust, but the faintest bend in the steel of his posture.
The first crack.
---
Author Note:
Thank you for reading the Chapter. I hope you continue to do read more in future.
It’s my first novel so if there’s any kind of mistakes you find in the novel related to grammar please tell and I’ll edit it as soon as possible.
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