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LOCATION: THE LUSTY WENCH
CITY: GRIMWATCH
DATE: ??? | TIME: EARLY MORNING
Ever since her first trial, when she’d come face-to-face with both Choi and the mysterious Nyssara, Vanessa had been quietly unsettled. Nyssara had spoken like she knew her—and what’s more, Vanessa had felt it too. A tug of something old. Familiar. Dangerous.
She hadn't slept well after dinner with the others. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Nyssara.
The discomfort wasn’t from fear—it was the memories Nyssara stirred. Memories Vanessa had buried so deep she thought they were gone for good. Times spent training under that monster Choi—memories she’d locked tightly away and never intended to reopen.
But Vanessa was no stranger to self-control. As a near-Olympic-level archer, she had mastered focus at a level most couldn’t even imagine. That skill had only sharpened through her years at MIT, where the pressure to excel didn’t allow for hesitation or emotional indulgence.
So she lay in her surprisingly comfortable bed at The Lusty Wench and closed her eyes. She pushed everything else away. She centered herself—breath by breath—and focused on the encounter with Choi.
Nyssara had watched that scene. Vanessa remembered her voice after—low, steady, laced with something fierce. Rage? No, more than that. Shared rage.
Why?
She dug deeper, letting her mind drift into that meditative place where old memories began to stir.
She had trained under Choi since she was six—or maybe seven. Three boys had always been there, always competing, always loud. But now… another face surfaced. A girl.
Jisoo.
The name struck like a chord. And with it, the memories came flooding back—rushing in, unbidden. Tears welled and slipped from her eyes, soaking silently into her pillow.
Jisoo had been the eldest of them all. Six years older than Vanessa. Three years older than the boys. A prodigy with a bow. She could shoot from horseback at full gallop—an ancient Korean discipline almost lost to time—and hit the bullseye like she was standing still.
Vanessa used to watch her, entranced by her poise, her power, the way she narrowed her eyes and drew the bowstring back like the world couldn’t touch her.
She was... beautiful.
It was the first time Vanessa remembered feeling drawn to a woman. Later in life, she would date both men and women—attracted to the soul, not the gender—but in that moment, in that memory, she knew: Jisoo was the first.
When Vanessa began to outshine the boys, Choi took notice. He started to linger. A hand on her shoulder that stayed a moment too long. A glance that made her stomach tighten. She told her parents—but they dismissed it.
“Choi is the best—a national treasure,” they said. “Bear down. Do whatever it takes to earn your place on the Olympic team. Bring honor to the family.”
So she bore down. Choked down her disgust at his unwanted attention.
But around the time she turned ten, Choi’s behavior escalated. Less subtle. Less restrained.
And Jisoo... wasn’t having any of it.
One evening, after practice, the boys had been dismissed early—as always. Vanessa and Jisoo stayed behind to clean up. That was tradition. The girls did the dirty work while the boys went home to warm dinners and praise.
Vanessa was collecting arrows near the far target when she felt him behind her. Choi. He reeked of soju, like always, and he was reaching for her when—
Thwack.
An arrow struck the target an inch from his face.
He froze. Straightened.
Jisoo stood across the yard, already nocking another.
“Keep your hands off Vanessa, Choi,” she said. Her voice didn’t waver.
“Move one more inch, and I’ll show you how deep my draw strength can bury this in your temple.”
Choi raised his hands and backed away slowly, eyes fixed on Jisoo’s hand.
When he reached the edge of the yard, she lowered the bow and called to Vanessa. They walked home together. Vanessa hadn’t even understood what had just happened.
But Jisoo explained on the way. What Choi was. What Vanessa needed to be wary of. She promised to be more careful.
It was the last time Vanessa ever saw her.
Jisoo didn’t show up at practice the next day. Or the day after that.
A few days later, Vanessa’s parents told her Jisoo had been struck by a car on her way home from school.
She never believed it.
Even at that age, something in her knew better. But no one questioned it. The adults nodded, the other trainees fell silent.
And after that, Choi changed.
He stopped touching her.
He started beating her instead. Every adjustment, every correction—delivered with his Chukbang across her shoulders, her legs, her hands.
And now, lying in her bed, staring at the wooden ceiling above her, Vanessa finally understood.
Nyssara wasn’t just some ghost in a Trial.
She was Jisoo.
Back again.
Her protector. Her friend.
And this time, Vanessa was going to fight beside her.
Morning came, and Vanessa was still lost in thought.
Deciding to forego breakfast with the others, she slipped away from the inn, deciding a walk might help clear her head.
She wandered south through Grimwatch’s narrow lanes until she found herself behind two small homes at the town’s edge. A tall wooden fence rose behind them, rough and aged, with a crooked gate hanging loosely on iron hinges.
Still not ready to return to the inn, she checked her gear—ensuring she was prepared for anything.
Nightweaver slung over her back.
A full quiver of spectral arrows.
Two daggers at her hips.
Wraithwood clipped to her belt.
She took a breath, placed a hand on the gate, and pushed it open.
On the other side, she had expected the forest she had seen beyond the fence.
But instead… she found herself standing at the edge of the woods in low brush, overlooking a village.
Not Grimwatch.
It looked similar—medieval in style, dark timber buildings and uneven stone paths—but the layout was different. The energy was different.
Vanessa dropped into a crouch, hidden from view of the village.
Apparently, her Trial had begun.
A faint chime echoed in her mind’s ear. A notification.
---
System Message
Welcome, Vanessa Cho, to your first combat trial.
The Shadowed Hamlet is home to many people of questionable moral character.
But some are much worse than others.
There are ten monsters hidden among the population here.
You must identify and eliminate all ten to complete this Trial.
Innocents defeated will count against your final rewards.
You know the world is comprised of more than just black and white.
Amidst the gray, find the truth.
Good luck, Huntress.
---
Well, Vanessa thought, this sounds like it’s going to be fun.
She drew Wraithwood from its holster, letting its faint shimmer pulse against the morning haze.
And then, without a sound, Nyssara wisped into view beside her—half-formed at first, then solidifying like smoke given purpose.
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“Good morning, Vanessa,” she said softly. “How are you today, darling?”
Vanessa didn’t answer right away. Her eyes lingered on the ghostly outline, on the curve of her cheek, the familiar tilt of her head.
She took a breath. It was time.
“Nyssara… I did a lot of soul searching last night. And I realized something.”
A tear formed at the corner of her eye, but she didn’t blink it away.
“You’re Jisoo… aren’t you? Gods, how is this even possible? Do you know how many nights I—”
Nyssara floated forward, and gently interrupted her.
“It’s true. It’s me.”
Her voice trembled, just slightly.
“I don’t know how any of this is real. I don’t understand what brought me back. But I want to thank you, Vanessa. For remembering me. For carrying me with you.”
She smiled—melancholy and radiant at once.
“To see the world again… and to do it with you—that’s more than I ever dared hope for. I’ve missed you. So much.”
Vanessa reached out, fingers trembling, and touched her cheek.
Her hand passed through like mist.
She sighed. But this time, her smile wasn’t broken—it was whole.
“We are going to have so much fun, Jisoo.”
Nyssara shook her head gently.
“Nyssara, please. I’m not Jisoo anymore. I mean, I am still her, in many ways. But I am so much more.”
She gave a sly smile.
“Besides, it’s a beautiful name, isn’t it?”
Vanessa let out a small laugh. Not the deflective kind—a real one.
“Yes, Nyssara. It really is. And so are you.”
Then her eyes narrowed, and her tone shifted—steady now, sharp with purpose.
“Now let’s figure out who needs to pay for their sins today… and who walks free.”
Nyssara gave her one last, lingering smile—and dissolved silently back into the weapon. Vanessa holstered Wraithwood again.
She exhaled.
It was time to hunt.
Vanessa watched the village from her hidden vantage point, then looked down at herself. Her matte gray leathers would stand out in a small hamlet like this—den of thieves or not. First order of business: clothes that helped her blend in.
She circled the outskirts until she spotted a woman about her size leaving a small shack near the forest edge. It was perfect. Early morning light offered little cover, so Vanessa stayed hidden as she approached the hut, listening carefully to confirm the place was empty.
Satisfied, she drew a dagger and slipped through the door, every sense on high alert. As she moved, she noticed something curious—her footfalls made no sound at all.
Hm. The System must be dampening my movements. Nice…
Inside, she quickly confirmed she was alone, then made a fast sweep. No telling how soon the woman would return. In a modest dresser she found simple linen garments—muted indigos and shades of gray. She chose a plain gray tunic and a pair of soft trousers.
Stepping back into the woods with her prize, she changed quickly, hiding her gear beneath the roots of a marked tree she could find again later. Her bow, quiver, armor, and one dagger were buried. The second dagger and Wraithwood she kept—fastened neatly at her waist.
After one final check to ensure her cache was well hidden, she emerged from the forest and entered the hamlet.
Small towns always centered around the tavern. News, gossip, first impressions—if anything was going to tip her off about the moral temperature of this place, it would be there.
She stepped into the tavern—The Crow’s Feather—and took a seat near the back. Within minutes, a woman approached.
She was shorter than Vanessa, with long blonde hair tied back neatly. Her linen dress was snug enough to turn heads but loose enough to move quickly. Smart design. Probably intentional.
“Good morning, darling. I haven’t seen you here before. What can I get you?”
Vanessa looked her over, then offered a polite smile.
“Good morning. I’ll take a coffee. And if you have any sort of breakfast special, I’ll take that too.”
“Perfect! I’ll be right back with coffee. Our breakfast special today—and pretty much every day—is sausage and eggs. We don’t get too fancy here, but I promise you won’t be disappointed. Oh, and I’m Lyria. Flag me down if you need anything.”
She disappeared toward the kitchen and returned shortly with a steaming mug and a simple plate. Vanessa picked at the food and sipped her drink, ears tuned to the flow of conversation around her.
The room was comfortably full—maybe thirty patrons scattered across tables and barstools. No one was bothering to keep quiet.
A couple discussed trying to have a child.
A little ambitious, maybe, but nothing evil about it.
A man near the bar was paging through a leather-bound ledger, sipping coffee. Her enhanced Perception let her catch glimpses of the text—mostly debts owed, it seemed. A moneylender, perhaps.
Not exactly virtuous. But not damning, either.
She scanned the room as discreetly as she could, listening, observing. And came up with… nothing.
When her plate was clean, she left a few coins on the table—taken earlier from the woman’s hut—and quietly exited the tavern.
She had spent more time there than planned. The sun was already creeping toward its noon peak. Not sure where to go next, she followed the dusty main street deeper into town.
That’s when she saw him: a ragged-looking man turning down a side alley. Something about the way he moved—too careful, too focused—caught her attention. He had been trailing a woman.
Vanessa followed.
She kept to the shadows, far enough behind not to be seen, but close enough not to lose him. When he turned around to scan for followers, she ducked behind a stack of crates.
He moved on. So did she.
She stayed to the shadows along the building, careful to keep far enough back not to be seen, but close enough not to lose him. The man was cautious—she could tell by his pace, his body language, the way he glanced over his shoulder.
When he reached the rear of a row of small shops, he paused.
Vanessa ducked behind a stack of crates just as he turned to check his surroundings. As she expected.
When he moved on, so did she—silent, focused.
She rounded the corner carefully and froze. The alley ahead was boxed in on three sides—no escape but the way they’d come. The woman he’d been trailing was there, about to enter the rear door of the shop.
That’s when he grabbed her.
He yanked her back hard, one hand clamping over her mouth, the other pawing at her chest—cruel and eager.
Vanessa’s stomach twisted. But she didn’t hesitate.
Moving low and silent, she pulled Wraithwood from her belt and crept in from behind. The man never noticed her.
He thought he was alone with his target.
So it came as a hell of a surprise when Vanessa pressed the baton against the back of his neck. She leaned in, and right next to his ear, whispered, “Wraithbind.”
He stiffened.
His grip on the woman slackened.
And then—his vision went black.
Demons clawed through his mind. Ghosts of the women he had hurt—maybe dozens—screamed through his thoughts, each one clearer than the last. His breath caught in his throat. His eyes bulged in silent horror.
The woman didn’t wait. She tore herself free and sprinted into the shop, slamming the door shut behind her, never looking back.
Vanessa remained still.
Then, with one easy motion, she drew her dagger.
With one hand, she tilted the man’s head back. With the other, she slid the blade clean across his throat. No sound. No struggle. Just a gurgled breath—and then silence as his body slumped to the ground.
She turned and walked away, not bothering to check the System notification just yet. She didn’t need confirmation.
Back on the main street, she made her way toward a quiet stone plaza with a bubbling fountain at its center—much like Grimwatch. She sat down on a bench near the edge, let her heart settle, and finally glanced at the message.
---
System Message
You have slain Human, Level 4.
180 experience points have been awarded.
Sanctioned targets neutralized: 1 / 10.
---
She spent the rest of the day this way—watching. Listening. Waiting.
At one point, she spotted three teenagers trying to pickpocket an old man. The first attempt failed. The second did not. They ran off with a few coins—but Vanessa let them go.
Not worth their lives, she thought.
Later, she eliminated two more targets—quietly, cleanly. That brought her to three.
Seven left.
By the time evening fell, she made her decision. It was time to gear up.
She slipped into the forest and followed her mental compass—a helpful little feature The System seemed to have baked into her loadout. She could sense exactly where her weapons and armor were stashed.
Neat trick.
She unearthed her cache, pulled on her leathers, strapped Nightweaver across her back, and fastened her daggers and Wraithwood at her side. Before heading out, she returned the borrowed clothes to the hut—just in case the woman noticed they were missing.
After that, Vanessa climbed onto a rooftop to get a better view of the town as night crept in. The sky was cloudy, and the moon barely shone through the heavy cove, so she worried less about being seen up here.
She moved from rooftop to rooftop in silence, until something caught her eye.
A group of three men were gathered around a low fire behind a shuttered carpentry shop. From her perch, Vanessa crouched behind a stone chimney and watched. They weren’t drinking. They weren’t joking. Their movements were careful. Measured. As if they were waiting for someone.
Then a fourth man stepped into view from the main street. He scanned the alley, sat down, and spoke in a near whisper—quieter even than the others.
Vanessa strained to listen.
He handed over a small pouch. The jingle of coins was unmistakable. One of the men weighed it in his palm, then tucked it away into a hidden pocket.
“He’ll be out in the orchard late into the night, picking grapes. Try not to get blood on them—I plan to make use of his harvest when I’m the last vintner left in town. And don’t forget about his wife and children. No witnesses. One of you come to my estate when it’s done.”
He stood, smirking, and walked off without another word.
The others stayed behind, talking quietly, then began to douse the fire with buckets of water nearby.
Vanessa’s fingers curled around Wraithwood.
She activated Nyssara’s Waltz, and with a shimmer of black-laced mist, Nyssara manifested beside her, peering down at the scene below.
“Oh, Vanessa,” she purred, “you sure know how to show a girl a good time. Let’s do this. I’ll be here.”
Vanessa gave her a nod and moved two rooftops over for a cleaner shot. She slid Nightweaver from her back and nocked a spectral arrow.
The arrows were brilliant in their design. Their soft, ethereal glow was visible only to Vanessa and Nyssara—like tracer rounds for the soul. Perfect for precision in darkness.
She slowed her breathing. Let her heart settle. The world narrowed to her bow and the targets below.
Time seemed to slow around her.
She loosed the first arrow at the man on the left.
Before it reached its mark, the second was flying. Then the third.
Each arrow struck home in flawless silence: one to the eye, one to the temple, one to the side of the skull.
The man on the right turned toward the chimney—just in time to see the ghostly form of a beautiful woman blowing him a kiss.
That was the last image he ever saw.
As each arrow struck, it dissolved and reappeared in Vanessa’s quiver—another trick of The System.
Neat feature, she thought, flashing a grin. She blew a kiss back toward Nyssara before the spirit faded into mist once again.
---
System Message
You have slain Human, Level 4.
You have slain Human, Level 4.
You have slain Human, Level 4.
540 experience points have been awarded.
Sanctioned targets neutralized: 6 / 10.
---
Four left.
And Vanessa had a pretty good idea where they were—at the estate the man had mentioned.
This won’t be easy.
She dropped from the roof and rifled through the men’s belongings. No maps. No papers. But the coin pouch was heavier than expected. She pocketed it without hesitation.
After dousing the fire, she dragged the bodies to the far wall of the sawmill and stacked them upright—out of sight, for now.
Then she climbed back onto the roof and scanned the darkened horizon. To the west, she spotted it—long rows of vines barely visible in the low moonlight.
A vineyard.
That must be the place.
She exhaled. “They probably have no idea what kind of calamity they just dodged tonight... thanks to me—and Nyssara.”
Patting herself on the back, Vanessa hopped down and slipped quietly toward the western edge of the Shadowed Hamlet.