Chapter One: Between Fates

When was it, exactly, that I lost all feeling? Joy, love, fear, sorrow… what did any of these taste like? I can no longer remember at all.

To exist alone in this world…

Is it lonely?

No.

Because even the feeling called loneliness has long since been forgotten.

Emotionless.

Yan Luo opened his eyes and found himself standing amidst a swirling mist—white, black, crimson, violet… mists of every color, painting the space in a confused, shifting tapestry. The fog rolled and surged, ever changing.

“Where is this?”

If it had been an ordinary person, suddenly finding themselves transported from home to such a place, they would have been seized by terror and confusion. Yan Luo, however, gazed calmly, without a ripple of fear.

“This… is the landscape within your heart.”

A voice surfaced within: “Venture into the depths of the mist. Seek out the power of destiny.”

Looking down, Yan Luo glimpsed, faintly through the haze, a path paved with stone slabs stretching forward. After a silent pause, he began to walk. The narrow path twisted and turned, destination unknown. White flakes began drifting down through the air.

Snowflakes.

The world was utterly still, save for the soft, crisp “pat, pat, pat” of Yan Luo’s footsteps on the stone. Snow settled quietly upon him.

The mist parted around him.

In the distance, the fog still coiled thickly.

Yan Luo halted. He saw that on either side of this path, whose end he could not see, crimson flowers bloomed in profusion—vivid as blood. He recognized them: Red Spider Lilies, said to grow along the Road of the Underworld, guiding lost souls to the River of Three Crossings—flowers of the Other Shore.

On one side of the path, the petals of these flowers shone with a faint bloody light, forming words as if written in fresh blood:

“Kill!”

In the midst of the flower field sat a young girl.

Her long black hair spilled over the ground like a waterfall, pale as snow, her skin flawless and luminous. She sat quietly among the blossoms, a figure drawn in strokes of ink black and snow white—so beautiful she seemed to drain the color from the world itself.

“Who is she?”

Gazing at the girl illuminated by the blood-red glow of the lilies, Yan Luo asked within.

The voice answered:

“She is the Anima.”

“Or, in other words, the woman who dwells within you.”

In every man’s unconscious, there resides a feminine persona, and in every woman’s, a masculine one. The Anima is the man’s inner woman, the Animus, a woman’s inner man—a reflection of oneself in the opposite sex, the ideal companion, the one and only in every heart.

“Love cares not for cause and effect, fate ordains life and death. Flower and leaf live apart, longing and cherishing are forever lost to each other.”

The girl softly intoned these words. With her ethereal voice, both the flowers and her figure faded away, snow drifting with them, and the mists surged back in. Yan Luo pressed on in silence. Ahead, he heard the faint murmur of water—and glimpsed the outline of a bridge.

The bridge had three tiers: the uppermost was red, the middle ochre, the bottom jet black.

“Is that… light?”

In the darkness beyond, a glow appeared.

Yan Luo walked toward the light. The mist around him began to boil, and in its depths, dark, twisted human shapes emerged—grotesque, monstrous forms, stretching out countless arms to snatch and claw at him.

A multitude of arms, like so many black branches from a dead tree, reached toward Yan Luo.

“What are these?”

“Shadows.”

The voice sounded within once more.

“Shadows are the darkness lurking in the mind—the suppressed, evil side of the soul. But do not fear. These shadows are bound, shackled by the chains of your heart.”

Yan Luo had already noticed: every one of the twisted shadows was wrapped in chains, their claws flailing, but they could not touch him.

So he remained unperturbed.

Of course, the greater reason was that, having lost all feeling, he could face any horror with perfect composure.

Amidst the throng of black, grasping arms—some straight, some twisted—Yan Luo walked steadily toward the source of the light.

A sphere of white radiance.

He reached out, and the small, floating orb of light settled into his palm.

With a thunderous roar, all the scenery vanished. The surroundings transformed utterly, becoming a grey, colorless, and dim space.

Before him stood a table. Seated behind and beside it were two figures.

A black-haired youth, and a young girl with white hair and crimson eyes.

“Welcome.”

“This is the place between fate—a crevice at the intersection of dream and reality, spirit and matter, time and space. Only those who have, in some form, entered into a contract may arrive here.”

The youth spoke with calm detachment. Yan Luo felt, for an instant, a strange sense of kinship, as if this boy, too, had been stripped of emotion. But the feeling vanished as the youth’s face softened into a gentle smile.

“You may call me the Observer. This is my assistant.”

The white-haired, red-eyed girl nodded politely to Yan Luo.

“Welcome, Emotionless One—Yan Luo, who has surpassed the boundaries of humanity.”

Yan Luo’s fingers twitched minutely; though he had no feelings, he could not help but be affected by this title.

“Your time here is short, so I will not explain everything. In time, you will understand. There are two things you must know.”

“First: the Boundary.”

“Every species bears, engraved in its very genes, a limit—an upper bound ordinary effort cannot surpass. These boundaries encompass many facets: intelligence, strength, speed… even appearance, talents, or habits.”

“Some boundaries are not so rare—most people do not grow over two meters tall, but those who do have exceeded a human boundary.”

“And you—”

The youth rested his elbows on the table, hands clasped beneath his chin. “Ordinary people do not lose emotion. You are without feeling. Thus, you have crossed the boundary of human emotionlessness.”

“Of course, that is but the first layer of innate boundary. Beyond it lie the boundaries of life, soul, and will. By breaking through this first boundary, you possess talents beyond ordinary men, granting you the potential to grasp the world’s truth.”

“Second: look at the light in your hand.”

At the youth’s prompting, Yan Luo regarded the white orb.

“This is the Seed of Hope.”

“A seed crystallized from the power of hope—it will grant you one wish.”

“A wish?” Yan Luo paused. “Can it fulfill any wish at all?”

“Of course not,” the youth replied with a smile. “This is the power of hope, not omnipotence. To be precise, the Seed of Hope will, according to the wish you make and in accordance with your talent, generate an ability. What that ability will be is an answer for the future.”

“A wish…”

Yan Luo looked at the youth. “And the price?”

“As your power grows, so does your responsibility. You will bid farewell to your former life, confront the truth of the world, face danger—and perhaps meet death and an end.”

“Choose, Emotionless One. If you are unwilling to face these things, you will return to reality, and this memory will be lost. If you wish, speak your desire to the Seed of Hope, and your life will be rewritten.”

“Compared to being numb and living like the walking dead, what is death?”

Yan Luo lifted the Seed of Hope before him. “I wish… for emotion.”

“You have awakened a Destiny Talent: Heartless Marionette.”

“Heartless Marionette: A puppet without a heart. You can sense the intense emotions released by others, absorb them, and fuse these feelings to produce the masks of personality needed for any situation. Different emotions, when merged, create different masks.”