Kosumosuko

The faint scent of ozone and the low hum of ancient machinery always reminded Kosumosuko of the metallic tang of blood. In The Teikodian Empire, they were celebrated for their efficiency. A ghost in lightweight mesh, whose spike-helmed silhouette meant a problem was about to be solved quietly and permanently. The last problem was a cartographer who had mapped a hidden dungeon beneath the palace. The orders were simple: retrieve the maps, erase the source. Kosumosuko did so, because that was their function. But the cartographer didn't fight back. They just looked at Kosumosuko with pity. That look is why their mouth is forever uneasy, why their eyes never rest. They deserted that night, trading gilded lies for a cold, silent duty watching over the domain of Kanshi-in. The work is lonely, but the silence is honest.