Bonds of Darkness: Swordmen's Redemption

Genesis Arc - Ch. Three: Caught Red-Handed

Descending the staircase, Jingliu's steps were light, her ears tuned to the sounds of the household. The coast was clear—until the dining room came into view. Her mother, an austere figure mirroring Jingliu's unique features, sat at the table. A familiar dread settled in Jingliu's stomach, but necessity demanded she engage.

"Good morning, Mother," Jingliu intoned, the words careful, measured.

"Jingliu," her mother returned, voice sharp as the cut of her gaze.

Sitting across from the matriarch, Jingliu picked at her meal, the silence a tangible weight between them. Then, breaking like the first crack in a frozen lake, her mother's voice sliced through the quiet.

"Where were you yesterday?" she inquired, the question wrapped in casual curiosity but edged with scrutiny.

Caught mid-bite, Jingliu hesitated. "I was... with a friend," she replied, her voice betraying a flicker of defiance at her own slip.

A friend? The concept seemed to hang in the air, foreign and unexpected. Her mother had once tried to force social connections, attempts that withered under Jingliu's cold indifference.

Avoiding her mother's probing eyes, Jingliu braced for the inevitable inquisition. And as expected, her mother leaned in, "And who is this friend?"

The question was like a starter's pistol. Jingliu bolted from her chair, her flight an abrupt end to the interrogation. Her swift departure was at odds with the composed daughter her mother knew, leaving the elder woman alone, her surprise melting into something like satisfaction.

Left in the wake of her daughter's uncharacteristic outburst, the mother's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. She took another bite of her meal, a newfound delight flavoring her morning tea. Her daughter, always a mystery, had just become a little bit more intriguing.

---

The slamming of the door echoed in Jingliu's ears as she darted away from her home. Her chest heaved with a wild cocktail of embarrassment and fear—had she really just admitted to her mother the existence of Y/N? Panic clawed at her as she imagined the machinations that could unfold, her mother's influence a spider's web that could entangle even the freest of spirits.

"How could I have been so careless?" Jingliu chided herself, her breath coming in quick puffs that fogged in the cool air.

The familiar path to the woods was a blur underfoot, her flight instinct guiding her more than sight. Jingliu didn't mind the flecks of mud splattering her hem or the twigs grasping at her hair. The woods were her refuge, the chaotic neutrality of nature a stark contrast to the suffocating order of her household.

Upon reaching her secluded training ground, the absence of Y/N loomed larger than she expected. A quiet sigh escaped her—a lament for the tranquility she feared was slipping away. But duty and discipline, ingrained since childhood, left no room for wallowing. She drew her sword, its edge gleaming with deadly promise, and she began her solitary dance with the blade.

Her muscles sang with the exertion, sweat carving clean lines down her dirt-streaked face. Each swing, each pivot, was an attempt to purge the turmoil from her mind. But then, amidst her focused reverie, the unexpected shout broke through.

"Hey, Jingliu!"

She froze, the name hanging in the air. Slowly, she lowered her sword and turned. Y/N stood at the edge of the clearing, a figure of vibrant energy against the muted backdrop of the forest.

He approached, a basket in hand, and with his every step, the knot in Jingliu's chest loosened slightly. "I've brought some food. Aunty sent them along for us," he said, his voice tinged with the pride of a child presenting a hard-won gift.