⚬|𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭|⚬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 7

The two had spent the entire day strolling through the shops, pretending as though they were doing nothing wrong. As if he wasn't a mass murderer who, just months ago, had annihilated an entire village of non-sorcerers and now carried a bounty on his head. And as if she wasn't committing treason by calmly walking beside him, her arm linked with his, taking long drags from the cigarette he had lit for her.

In a strange way, Y/n felt as though this wasn't the first time they'd met, despite everything. Satoru had told her about the bond between Shoko and Suguru, but seeing it firsthand made it harder to reconcile. He wasn't a good person. He was her enemy. Yet, as they laughed so carelessly, Y/n wondered if perhaps she was being too extreme. Thankfully, a quick shake of her head cleared her conflicted thoughts. Compassion wouldn't erase his crimes.

Their platonic "date" came to an end when Shoko realized the sun was setting.

From where Y/n quietly observed, it seemed Suguru had tried to persuade his friend to linger, but all he received was a calm shake of her head and a gentle kiss on the cheek. She returned his lighter before walking away, her figure dissolving into the evening light. Suguru huffed a quiet laugh and turned in the opposite direction, walking away with a small, peaceful smile.

Y/n emerged from her hiding spot, slipping into the crowd, her gaze fixed firmly on him. She couldn't conceal her presence entirely, but years of practice had taught her to move like a shadow. It was a trick she'd perfected as a child, sneaking away when her father's drunken fits turned violent. Now, with no cursed energy left, this skill was her only defense.

As she followed him into a narrow alley, a sobering thought stopped her in her tracks: there was no way she could complete her mission without even a fraction of her cursed energy. Suguru Geto was said to rival Satoru in power. How foolish she had been to think she could end him with nothing but her wits.

Her fists tightened at her sides. She had always been a pawn—a tool in the hands of others. The Elders had made sure of that. Since she was a child, Y/n had been bound by an Unbreakable Vow to protect them at all costs, even at the expense of her own freedom. She could not act without their command, could not raise a hand unless it was to shield their decrepit lives. She was no warrior; she was their puppet, tied to their strings by blood and magic.

She could still remember the cold stone walls of the temple, the way the Elders' shadows loomed over her as they recited the incantation that would seal her fate. "Your life is ours. Your will is ours. You will protect us, even unto death."

The title they gave her had been their cruelest manipulation of all. The Empress, they called her, the sorceress the people prayed to when victory seemed out of reach. But it was all a lie. While warriors shouted her name outside the temple doors, Y/n stood inside, motionless, a hollow shell draped in ceremonial finery. Her power was vast, but it was never hers to wield.

The only reprieve she'd ever known came in the form of Satoru Gojo. He would visit the temple under the pretense of trivial matters, making absurd excuses to take her away from the suffocating rituals. He was the one light in a life of shadow, the only person who saw her as more than the Elders' shield.