It was something I should have expected, even though I wish it wasn't true: the Red Assassin was attracted to Kyrie. I couldn't blame him, either. Many men found Kyrie attractive; I was the lucky one who was able to steal her heart. But now that I was dead, it was up for grabs, and so far, the Red Assassin had a fair chance of reclaiming it.

THE FIRST FEW STRIKES

He had saved her life

He let her cry on his shoulder

He was protecting her

Even with the fact that the Red Assassin was the man who killed Sanctus, tried to kill Credo and Kyrie, she was slowly learning to trust him. Slowly she realized that the Red Assassin wasn't as terrible as she thought he would be.

One of the things that attracted the Red Assassin to Kyrie wasn't just her looks; it was her personality in general. It was amazing to the Red Assassin. In short, he had never been this close to a girl of such innocence. Her quietness and obedience also had him baffled. As you can imagine, the Red Assassin usually found himself surrounded by women who yelled and snapped at him, called him crude names, slapped him, cussed him out, splashed water on his face and broke beer bottles over his head.

Shocking, right? The Red Assassin had one hell of a tolerance.

And yet here was Kyrie, to him, the very first female he had ever met who was absolutely terrified of him, afraid of speaking to him, disobeying him, stepping on him, getting in his way, anything you could think of. If the Red Assassin breathed, Kyrie would cross her fingers in hopes that he wouldn't kill her.

At the moment in question, the Red Assassin was sleeping, sitting up, his hands folded across his stomach as he snored the night away. Kyrie couldn't sleep, she was cold and uncomfortable and scared, the Red Assassin's snores grated her ears as she looked around the small room.

Things went bump in the night, as they always did, and startled Kyrie. She stood up and started walking around the dimly lit room, and before she knew it, she tripped and landed directly on the Red Assassin's stomach, waking him up with a start and a groan.

"…What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry!" Kyrie gasped, standing up and backing away. But before she could get to a safe distance, the Red Assassin grabbed her arm and pulled her to him. He wrapped his arms around her petite body and sighed tiredly.

"…Trish, shut up…" he groaned, holding her close.

He was drunk, half asleep, and thought Kyrie was someone else. However, Kyrie did not stir, she let him hold her there, she was too afraid of disturbing him, plus…he was warm, she was cold. She rested her head on his chest, and fell back to sleep.

I watched as he got closer and closer to her. Soon, her face was gently touching, rubbing against his rough beard, tickling her. I grew angry; I could feel the hatred flowing through my transparent body, hate for him, even some reluctant hate for her. Why was she getting so close to a man that was a terrorist? He was a monster and had killed the very man she had looked up to since she was a child, yet she got so close, she could smell his whiskey breath, she could smell the leather, the blood, the sweat, all the scents that lingered on him, even from years past.

A strange feeling came to me, was it because of what she said earlier? Was it because he was so similar to me, that she drew near? Did she keep close to him and begin to trust him because of our similarities?

It made me sick. It made me feel replaced.

As they slept so peacefully, the windows began to clatter, and soon enough, they shattered, bookshelves toppled, books flung across the library. Kyrie and the Red Assassin immediately jumped awake. She clutched onto his arm, books flew with more momentum, and the loud, anguished moan echoed through the room. She screamed and buried her face in his chest. He glared at me. I didn't stop.

"It's the ghost!" she screamed, "It's the ghost! It's the ghost!"

"Yeah." He replied, standing, Kyrie ducked behind a table, he stared directly at me. I warned him with a glare, the moan grew louder, stronger, the otherworldly hurricane continued to grow in the library, winds whipped vases and globes and everything it could touch, sending it into a deadly spiral across the room.

Then, to my horror, the winds even picked Kyrie up and hurled her to the other side of the library. The Red Assassin dove, and grabbed her before she hit the ground. I stopped, the moaning ceased, the wind no longer blew, everything clattered loudly to the ground.

Only her horrific wailing could be heard. It shook me, terrified me.

I scared me.

I left the library in agony, and returned to the large chandelier in the middle of the Grand Hall. I tried to drown it out, but nothing could block Kyrie's screaming from my thoughts. It was like a broken record player, over and over and over again it played.

I frightened her, tried to hurt her. And once again HE was the one there to help her, and I could do nothing. I was the antagonist in this screwed up tale. It was my fault. Everything was my fault.

All I had to do was decline the mission to Fortuna Castle.

Maybe then, if the Red Assassin still came to kill Sanctus, I could have jumped up and kicked that ugly smirk right off his face.

Even when the sound was gone from my head, I could still hear her crying out.

I was a monster. I hurt her, even in death.

Kyrie…please forgive me…forgive me…please. I'm so sorry.

In order to escape the hellish world I had created, I found myself observing the Order of the Sword Head Quarters. It was four in the morning, Gloria was sleeping, then the pounding interrupted her. She sat directly up, and pulled her robe on her, covering her chocolate skin.

She opened the door, revealing a red-faced Credo; he was aggravated, irritated, infuriated, malevolent, and miserable. His chocolate-drop eyes were cloudy and bloodshot, he held a bottle in his hand, his sword in the other, he glared at Gloria…no, he glared past her, his view was far beyond her.

Gloria gulped, and opened her door wider to let him in. He stormed through her room, the first thing he did was throw the bottle at her mirror, shattering all three of them on impact. As the bottle collided with the silver glass, Credo fell to the floor in pieces. He sobbed loudly. Gloria was appalled.

Credo was a knight…he wasn't supposed to cry in such a childlike manner.

"Credo…?" Gloria said. She stayed a distance from him, scared to get too close.

"I want her back!" He yelled, "I want her back, Gloria!" he clawed angrily at the floor, tears dripped from his face. "Everyone's…been talking as though she's dead, they speak words to me, but I can hear the truth: they want me to move on…but I can't! I can't, Gloria! I love her! I need her!" Credo buried his face, "I want her back…I want to hold her…she can't be dead…she just CAN'T. No…Kyrie was a good girl…she never did anything! Why did it have to be her? What did she ever do wrong? Why…why couldn't it have been me…?"

Gloria finally found the courage, and kneeled next to Credo, "Don't say that, Credo. It wasn't your fault…"

It had come to that point.

That horrifying point where they accept it.

Kyrie's dead.

It had barely been two days.

"I know…" He whispered, "I know…" Credo stood up, this time, he clutched his sword, "He's coming for me…and when he does…"

"Credo…"

"This is all his fault. It was because of him…"

Silence.

"That stupid, stupid man, Sanctus…" Credo finished.

Gloria adjusted her robe, "I'm sorry, Credo…" she snuck up behind him, and wrapped her arms around his waist, he turned around, he held her soft face in his rugged hands. They both stared at each other, their mouths open, waiting, begging.

Kiss me. Please.

But they didn't.

They couldn't.

Credo chose instead, to conclude his sobbing into the creases of Gloria's chest, she kept herself wrapped around him. She tried to soothe him, a mother to a child. It was in her blood, more motherly instincts than one would expect. Instincts from a former life.

Yes, Gloria's former life…as a mother.

Poor Credo.

The next morning, Credo was alone in the meeting room, he sat at the edge, the largest chair, the one Sanctus once sat at. He had his elbows on the table, and his fists dug into his forehead. He took in large breaths every now and then. He looked up and all around him. He looked at the chair he used to sit at as Supreme General, then at the seat he now sat in, as Vicar.

Gloria walked into the room, Credo looked at her, then stood. "Gloria…I'm sorry about last night."

"You should be. Now there's glass and wine all over my carpet and my only mirror has been shattered." She snapped, crossing her arms, "But that's not the worst part. Credo, the town is panicking, demon attacks are happening in the city limits left and right and no one knows what the hell is going on. They need their leader, and you're not making yourself very popular with the way you've been acting. People are talking, they're getting snooty about you, everyone's attacking you, saying that if Sanctus was still around, this wouldn't be happening. They're beginning to hate you, Credo."

A long silence followed, Credo did not show emotion concerning his position. He was used to gossip, but he realized the main point Gloria was leading him onto. He bit his lip, a small trail of blood flowed down his chin.

"It's been hard, I know…" He said, "I…haven't been the best leader lately…and I realize that it's not a good idea." Credo hung his head, "I just…can't believe…that this would happen…it's barely even been a year."

Gloria walked up and put her hand on Credo's shoulder. "I'm sorry…Credo…but," she took in a deep breath, "Maybe…I mean, maybe she's…in a better place."

No, she was not in a better place. She was covered in blood in the depths of Fortuna Castle with a terrorist holding her captive. With dogs the size of jungle cats trying to kill them both.

A GLIMPSE OF THEM NOW

The Red Assassin is moving swiftly through the castle.

Kyrie has to jog every now and then to catch up to him.

As she catches up, she grabs a fistful of his red coat.

He brushes her away.

She grabs him again.

"Stop that…" He snapped by the third time. Kyrie looked up at him, her brown eyes pleading. He shook his head, and turned around, Kyrie decided to be smart, and this time, grabbed his hand. He growled and took his hand back with force.

"Stop touching me!" He yelled. "Jeez, you'd think you'd know better than that. Don't grab my coat because I might have to move fast, and you're going to go flying. Don't grab my hand, because I have to use them, and I don't like people grabbing my hands. At all. It feels weird."

Kyrie sighed and nodded. "Well…will you slow down?"

"No."

"I can't keep up with you."

"Then run."

"Can't I walk in front of you?"

"No, you have no idea where I'm going, and I don't like being slowed down. Suck it up and run."

Kyrie did not say anything in objection, she pleaded again with her eyes. The Red Assassin shook his head.

"You don't know how to quit, do you?" he said, "Sorry to disappoint, but 'cute' doesn't work on me." he continued to walk, Kyrie sighed, and followed. Something came to her head.

"Who's Trish?"

The Red Assassin stopped, and looked at Kyrie in disbelief, "How did you know about Trish?"

Kyrie shrugged, "I don't know anything, you called me that last night."

"I did?"

She nodded, "You were half asleep, and kind of drunk."

He sighed, "Look, don't let it bother you, Trish is just…a woman I knew."

"What happened to her?"

"…She left me…about nine months ago. I don't even know what happened, one night we're making sweet love on the bed, next thing I know, she breaks a beer bottle over my head, I wake up the next morning, and she's gone without a trace." He sighed and crossed his arms, "Women. They are a completely different species, I swear."

"Do you miss her?"

"…Yeah. I do. She was something else."

"Did you love her?"

"…Who the hell do you think you are, my psychiatrist? For the love of god, you're my hostage, start acting like it, will you?"

"I was just…"

"Shut up."

Kyrie fell silent, and followed the Red Assassin to wherever he walked, through the corridors, a stray room, the Grand Hall. Kyrie followed, said nothing, her fingers crossed together as she watched his back and walked constantly toward it.

SMALL TALK

"Are you hungry?""…Yes."

"…Me too."

"Don't you have any apples?"

"Yeah, but I'm saving them."

"Why'd you ask?"

"Just checking on you."

The Red Assassin looked at me, he noticed me watching them, I shied away, but still saw his smug look that said: "So you've come back?"

I did my best to stay away from him; he would never let me live down my wrath and how it had backfired on her.

How stupid.

SHAME

I was dead; you don't get any lower than that.

Yet I was afraid of his confrontation.

I was the ghost, he was the wanderer.

And somehow I ended up fearing him.

I had to admit: the Red Assassin could really live up to his reputation.

And that pissed me off.