CHAPTER 364: BLACK LOTUS

Well, my Phantom Twin’s voice cut through my thoughts, a note of amusement threading through it. That was quite the monologue.

I blinked, pulled abruptly from my introspection. "What?"

I said, that was a good monologue, he repeated, and I could practically hear the smirk in his tone despite us sharing the same mind. Very philosophical. Very principled. Should I start taking notes? Maybe we can publish ’The Moral Musings of Amaniel, The Guardian of The Innocent’ when this is all over.

I felt heat creep up the back of my neck. "I wasn’t, I was just thinking things through."

Oh, you were definitely monologuing, he said, his form crossing its arms in a mirror of what I probably looked like when I was being smug. Complete with dramatic pauses and everything. ’Mercy has its place. Forgiveness has its place.’ Very profound. Very brooding protagonist.

"Shut up," I muttered, knowing full well I was essentially telling myself to shut up, which only made it more ridiculous.

I’m just saying, if you’re going to have an internal crisis about your moral framework, you could at least not do it while standing in a cave full of unconscious bandits. Kind of ruins the dramatic atmosphere.

"I wasn’t having a crisis," I protested. "I was just... clarifying my position."

Uh-huh. And the whole ’examining your hands, thinking about crossing lines’ thing earlier? What was that?

"Processing."

Monologuing.

"Processing."

Dramatically.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache building. This was the problem with having a Phantom Twin — it was like having a sarcastic version of yourself pointing out every time you were being overly dramatic or self-indulgent.

Which, admittedly, was probably happening more than I’d like to admit.

"Are you done?" I asked dryly.

Maybe, he said, that infuriating amusement still coloring his tone. But seriously, you do realize you’re the kind of person who’d give a whole speech about justice and redemption in the middle of a battlefield, right? That’s very ’protagonist behavior’ for someone who was just criticizing protagonists.

I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it.

He... might have a point.

See? Self-awareness. That’s growth.

"I hate you."

You hate yourself, technically. I’m just the part of you willing to say it out loud.

Despite everything - the weight of the night, the body in the tent, the moral calculations I’d just worked through - I felt a reluctant smile tug at my lips.

"Fine," I conceded. "Maybe I was being a bit dramatic. But in my defense, I did just kill someone for the first time. I think I’m allowed some introspection."

Oh, absolutely, my Phantom Twin agreed, his tone softening slightly. I’m just making sure you don’t spiral into full brooding antihero territory. We’ve got work to do, remember?

"Right." I straightened, pushing the philosophical tangent aside. "The refugees. The town guard. Getting back before sunrise."

There we go. Practical Aman is back. I prefer this version.

"The version that doesn’t overthink everything?"

The version that overthinks everything but still gets shit done, he corrected. There’s a difference.

I snorted softly. "Fair enough."

So, he said, gesturing around the cavern with one translucent hand. What’s the plan? We’ve got about sixty unconscious bandits who are going to wake up eventually, a bunch of terrified refugees, and a corpse we need to account for. How do we wrap this up?

I took a breath, letting my mind shift fully into tactical mode.

"First, we need to—"

Wake up.

A new voice cut through our internal debate. It was Seren.

I blinked. Huh? But we’re awake.

No, Seren’s mental voice held a note of gentle urgency. The woman. She’s going to wake up.

"Oh!" I nodded, the plan instantly shelved. The immediate situation took priority.

The Phantom Twin gave a teasing nod. Go. I’ll keep watch here.

I didn’t need telling twice. In a few quick strides, I was back at the leader’s tent and slipping inside. The scene was as I’d left it: the woman lay under the blanket, her breathing still shallow, while the other blanket covered the dead man.

I stood at a respectful distance away, ensuring my posture was non-threatening, and waited.

A few moments later, a shudder ran through her. A soft, pained whimper escaped her lips as her eyelids fluttered open. For a second, there was only disorientation. Then, memory flooded back. Her eyes widened in terror, and she scrambled backward with a gasp, her gaze darting wildly around the tent until it landed on me.

She froze, her breath catching. The fear in her eyes was a palpable force.

"Easy," I said. "It’s over. You’re safe."

I kept my voice low and controlled, a baritone that was colder and more detached than my normal speaking voice. I also kept my hands visible, the dark sleeves of my robe falling back slightly.

The hood cast my face in shadow, and the simple, featureless mask I wore completed the image — an anonymous specter of the night. It was a new identity, one I’d been considering for a while now, an alias for the work that required shadows.

’Yeah, for an eminence in shadow.’

Whoa, my Phantom Twin’s voice cut in, dripping with sarcastic awe. Now you’re saying cringe things internally? You really are committing to this bit.

Shut up. I thought back at him, barely stopping myself from gritting my teeth or cursing out loud. This was why having a mental copy of yourself was a pain. But then again, he was somewhat correct.

’...’

’Urgh, I hate him.’

"Y-you..." The woman stared, trembling, her knuckles white where she clutched the blanket. The fear in her eyes was a palpable force.

"W-who are you?" she whispered, her voice cracking.

I let a moment of silence hang in the air, letting my imposing figure sink in.

"Me...?" I repeated, the word echoing softly in the quiet tent. "You can call me... Black Lotus."

However, the name felt right as I said it. Something that bloomed in the dark, in murky waters. A symbol of purity and elegance, yet detached and untouchable. It perfectly suited the persona.

You just got inspired by the White Lotus-

I really hate you!

Me too.

"B-Black Lotus?" Her eyes widened slightly at the name, but the core of her terror remained. "What... what do you want?"

"What I want...?"

I paused, the question hanging between us. Right... What did I want? To not be in a cave full of bandits? To not get roasted by my clone? To be back in a warm bed? For this world to be a little less brutal?

’...’

I let out a slow breath, the sound barely audible.

"I want... peace."