A Background Character's Path to Power-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. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

<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."