His Little Moth I was built to be flawless. No scars. No voice. They dressed me in silk and called me a masterpiece. Smiled at me like I should be grateful for the cage.
When the monster came for me, I didn’t scream. I negotiated.
Her Ghost I was ordered to kill her. But she looked at my blade and asked for a scar, and I knew — I wasn’t the most dangerous thing in that room. She calls me a monster. She’s not wrong.
But she’s the one they should be afraid of.
