Fate's Slave - Shadow Slave X Honkai Star Rail

Leaving the surprisingly well-made clothes of shadow neatly arranged upon the rumpled bedspread, Sunny stepped out into the corridor with the careful deliberation of someone handling volatile explosives rather than preparing for a conversation. The door clicked softly behind him as he pulled it shut, and with a small flex of will he manifested a disembodied hand of darkness on the inside, guiding the lock into place with silent precision. The hallway beyond was empty, its patterned carpet swallowing his footsteps and the distant hum of ventilation lending the space an oddly antiseptic calm that clashed with the turmoil churning inside his chest.

For a moment he simply stood there, staring at the cheap wallpaper as though it might offer guidance, before exhaling through his nose and sending a thin ribbon of shadow slipping beneath the door like a living strand of ink.

Creepy — faithful, unsettling, and far too curious for its own good — oozed across the floor inside the room and reformed, its presence tethered to Sunny’s awareness like an extra sense. Only then did he summon Tingyun, drawing her out of the depths of his Shadow Core and into the sealed space beyond the door, deliberately placing a barrier of wood and plaster between them as though such mundane materials could shield him from the emotional fallout of what he had just done.

The instant her presence manifested, sharp and unmistakable in his perception, he recalled Creepy in a reflexive panic, unwilling to allow the shadow an unobstructed view of her bare form.

The effort came a fraction of a second too late, and the flicker of sensory feedback that returned with Creepy carried an unambiguous impression of lithe limbs, skin covered in darkness, and the unmistakable curves of a body that had once been alive in every sense of the word.

Sunny felt heat crawl up the back of his neck despite himself, equal parts embarrassment and the unwelcome acknowledgment that under different circumstances he might have appreciated the view rather than recoiled from it.

Suppressing the thought with ruthless efficiency, he reached through the tenuous connection afforded by his Aspect and projected a simple awareness toward her, not a command but a suggestion delivered with as much gentleness as he could manage.

’The clothes are on the bed.’

She did not have to obey, yet he suspected she would regardless, because the bond between master and Shadow was not something that left much room for defiance. That realization left a sour taste in his mouth, a reminder that whatever intentions he might harbor, the power dynamic between them was fundamentally skewed in his favor.

Time stretched in the hallway with agonizing slowness, measured only by the distant ding of an elevator several floors away and the muted thud of footsteps from unseen guests passing at the far end of the corridor.

Sunny kept his back to the door, arms folded loosely as if bracing himself against an invisible impact, until at last a soft metallic click reached his ears. The sound was quiet, almost polite, yet it reverberated through him like a starting pistol. He released a long breath he had not realized he was holding, squeezed his eyes shut as though preparing to dive underwater, and turned the handle.

The door swung inward, revealing darkness layered upon darkness, the faint outlines of furniture visible only through his shadow sense as he stepped across the threshold without opening his eyes. He closed the door behind him out of habit, sealing the two of them inside a space that suddenly felt far smaller than it had moments before.

Moving carefully, he navigated around the edge of the bed and toward the center of the room, relying entirely on the tactile map provided by his Aspect to avoid colliding with anything. He stopped at what he judged to be a respectful distance, hands hanging awkwardly at his sides as the silence thickened into something almost tangible.

He opened his mouth, searching for an appropriate opening, only to discover that every possible phrase felt either absurdly inadequate or dangerously loaded. Apologies seemed hollow, explanations too complicated, reassurances dishonest. The words tangled in his throat until he abandoned the attempt entirely, standing there like a statue carved from indecision.

"Is something wrong, master?"

Her voice cut through the quiet like silk drawn across steel, smooth and composed in a way that made his spine stiffen instantly. The honorific landed with the weight of a shackle rather than a courtesy, and his entire body reacted as though he had been doused in cold water.

"I’d prefer if you didn’t call me that."

He replied quickly, the words coming out sharper than intended as he fought down a visceral discomfort he could not fully articulate. The idea of owning another person, even in this twisted, supernatural sense, set his teeth on edge. He was already bound to someone he could not remember, tethered by emotions that surfaced only as echoes and left him feeling like a puppet whose strings had been severed but not removed.

A brief silence followed, filled only by the faint whisper of air circulating through the room, before Tingyun hummed thoughtfully, the sound low and melodic.

"In that case, would you like to take a seat? I believe we have much to discuss."

Her tone was so calm, so utterly free of the hysteria that had colored her earlier screams, that Sunny felt momentarily disoriented, as though he had stepped into a different scene without noticing the transition. He had expected anger, confusion, perhaps brittle politeness masking fear, yet what he encountered instead was poised composure that bordered on unsettling.

"I don’t think I want to."

He admitted honestly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Do you?"

She replied with gentle neutrality:

"If you are referring to whether I want you to take a seat, then I suppose it does not make much of a difference. I simply want you to be comfortable."

Something in that answer made his stomach twist. It could have been nothing more than refined manners, the ingrained courtesy of someone accustomed to diplomacy and social nuance, yet the earlier slip — master — lingered in his thoughts like a splinter.

Slowly, an unpleasant realization took shape, one that cast his Aspect in a far more troubling light than he had previously considered. Shadows were loyal, yes, but this felt deeper than obedience, more intimate than command. It was not simply that she would follow orders; it was that her priorities had been subtly rewritten to place him at the center, her instincts bending toward his well-being as naturally as a plant turning toward sunlight.

Thankfully, he didn’t believe that he felt anything of the sort for his own master, AR-26710 — though, he felt something both similar yet wholly different when thinking of the Stellaron Hunter. With Tingyun, what lingered instead was a faint, ghostlike impression of something that might once have been loyalty, dredged up by Phantylia’s interference and stripped of context, leaving behind only the hollow outline of an emotion without the substance to support it. The asymmetry made his skin crawl.

His other Shadows had never posed this dilemma. They were creatures of nightmare and darkness, intelligent but alien, their acceptance of servitude more akin to a predator recognizing a stronger alpha than a person surrendering autonomy. Tingyun, however, had been human — or close enough — and that humanity still clung to her like the scent of smoke after a fire. Letting her exist as a slave felt wrong on a level that bypassed logic entirely.

"Yes, it’s strange, isn’t it?"

She interjected suddenly, her voice thoughtful rather than accusatory.

"Although I am certain I have never met anyone with a face similar to your own, I feel as though I would take a blade to the heart so that you might live."

Sunny’s eyes snapped open in reflex before he squeezed them shut again just as quickly, having caught the briefest glimpse of her standing across the room in a form of darkness shaped into a woman, the shadow-fabric clinging to her completely transparent to his eyes due to his Aspect. His pulse spiked, equal parts alarm and something far more inconvenient.

He almost demanded, forcing his eyes closed so tightly that pinpricks of light danced across his vision:

"Did you just read my mind?"

Tingyun paused, and he could almost hear the faint tilt of her head in the silence that followed.

"No, nothing of the sort."

He did not believe her entirely, though he could not articulate why. Perhaps it was the uncanny timing, or perhaps it was simply that her presence felt too perceptive, as if she were attuned to undercurrents he had not meant to reveal.

Before he could pursue the thought, a gentle pressure closed around his arm. The contact was warm despite her shadow nature, startlingly solid, and he stiffened in surprise as she guided him forward. He could have resisted easily; his strength far exceeded hers, even in her new form, yet something in the careful restraint of her grip made defiance feel unnecessary. He allowed himself to be led, steps awkward and uncertain, until the backs of his knees brushed the mattress and he sank onto the bed.

Her fingers lingered on his bicep for several seconds, tracing the muscle with a tentative curiosity that sent a prickle of unease skittering down his spine. The gesture was not overtly intimate, yet it carried an unsettling echo of another touch, another presence that had treated him less like a person and more like an object of fascination.

Phantylia’s hands had been possessive, lingering with an intent that made his skin crawl even in memory, and the resemblance was enough to make his stomach clench.

As if sensing the shift in his tension, Tingyun withdrew abruptly, the warmth vanishing as she stepped away and returned to the chair with quiet grace.

"Tell me about yourself,"

Her voice once again composed, as though the moment of contact had meant nothing at all.

Sunny blinked behind his closed eyelids, expression twisting into bewilderment.

"What?"

She elaborated patiently:

"I can guess what you wished to ask me. Given my current condition, reintegrating into society would be... complicated for both of us. Furthermore, judging by the date displayed on that calendar, a considerable amount of time has passed since I was last conscious."

She fell silent for a beat, and though he could not see it, her gaze lingered on the wall with faint disturbance.

"Before I can decide what course of action to pursue, I must first understand the world I have awakened into. At the same time, learning more about the Benefactor responsible for my continued existence seems prudent."

Sunny tilted his head, trying to reconcile her pragmatic curiosity with the knowledge that her loyalty to him was not entirely voluntary. The interest might be genuine, but it was also shaped by forces neither of them had chosen.

Also, he was a little creeped out when she called him ’Benefactor’. Phantylia was very good at wearing the skin of others.

"Sure? I’m just not sure where to start."

Tingyun considered that for a moment before offering a suggestion with disarming simplicity.

"Perhaps you could explain how I came to be here."

He nodded automatically.

"Oh, right. That."

There was a brief pause as he searched for a tactful phrasing, failed to find one, and defaulted to blunt honesty.

"I killed you."

The words hung in the air like a dropped blade, heavy and impossible to ignore.

"Ah?"