The Black Saint is My Stalker (BL)

A woman's cries echoed in the hospital's halls.

Her head fell back as she gasped for breath, her entire body trembling from pain and fatigue. There was something in her veins, poisoning her blood and meridans. It made her feel weak, not just in her body but in her soul as well.

The newborn's wails pulled her back into reality. She peeled her eyelids open. The delivery room was dark, the lighting dim and warm.

"It's a boy," said the midwife as she inspected the babe, "there seems to be nothing abnormal with him at first glance…" She paused, hesitant. "Would you like to hold him?"

Han Ruyan nodded and held out her arms, "Let me see him."

Let me see the child that stole everything from me.

The child was wrapped in a blanket first before being carefully placed in her thin arms. He was so small, pink and warm. His little fists were curled and shook as he bawled.

Han Ruyan chuckled, both happy and bitter, "Welcome to the world, little guy. What should we call you? Hm?" She looked up, her attention drifting to a tall man that stood in the shadows of the room.

His expression was somber as though he was mourning, rather than celebrating the birth of a child. His dark hair cascaded over his eyes, arms folded behind his back. The way he stood reminded her of a soldier standing at attention. His dress was as always, black from head to toe and armed to the teeth beneath his overcoat. Graham never failed to look like he was attending a funeral or maybe take part in an impromptu assassination. But why was he being so silly and stiff? It was only Han Ruyan, a midwife and a newborn babe. The bastard wasn't even looking at her.

"Earth to Graham!" She singsonged, "What are you doing? Sleeping with your eyes opened?"

Graham flinched, his sharp eyes raised toward her, mouth drawn into a tight straight line. "Ruyan," he called her name but said nothing more. But the sadness in his gaze was telling enough. What was he being so depressed about? Han Ruyan wasn't dead, yet.

"I asked you a question, the polite thing to do would be to answer it," she teased, trying to smile to ease the atmosphere.

"If you'll excuse me," the midwife bowed as she stepped away, only to pause at Graham before exiting the room, "If there are any complications that arise, whether it be with mother or child, do let us know."

"Of course," his response was stiff and blunt. Her clacking heels echoed into the dark hospital hall. Graham was kind enough to close the door behind her. The baby had calmed, nestled up against Han Ruyan's bosom. Gosh, he was so tiny.

"What should I name him?" She asked again, her tone soft and airy.

"He is your son," he said, "a name from me, will lack meaning."

Han Ruyan hummed, there was a twinkle in her eyes that sparkled despite her bone-deep exhaustion, "If I give him your name then will you feel compelled to take care of him after I'm gone?"

"I—" She joyed in how he stuttered, giggling lightly. Graham huffed, resigned himself to her verbal torment, "There is no need to go to such lengths. After all, I am already bound to you and that child."

"It's not your fault, Graham," Han Ruyan reminded him.

"Still."

She laughed and shook her head. Well, he was never the one at fault, he wasn't the one who put the poison in her belly. No, that had been a demon, and Graham was quite literally a saint.

But Han Ruyan knew that he wouldn't listen to her no matter what she said. The new mother looked down at her ugly little spawn. For a demon, it was pretty damn cute. It didn't look any different from a human babe. More importantly, it was hers no matter what. "I guess I'll call you Han Li. It's nothing super fancy like Graham Lance Astley, but you'll have to forgive your old lady when you grow up."

Six years later Han Ruyen would die, wasted away in a shell of a body, poisoned by the birth of her own son. It was a slow death, a painful one. But she didn't regret a single moment of motherhood. There was no doubt in her mind that her son— her precious, bright, half-blooded son— would find a way to carry on her legacy and take the world by storm.

...

Nineteen years later Han Li would find himself in the heat of battle. The claws of a werewolf bearing down on his sword, an ancient relic he inherited from his old lady.

The werewolf roared under the night of the full moon and Han Li cringed, praying that there won't be too many noise complaints. They were fighting on a rooftop after all. Complaints from the public generally meant reduced payments.

A loud shout came from his left, "Out of the way, Li!"

Their blond-haired paladin, Ken came barreling in with his silver-lined claymore, a weapon that was much better suited for taking down a werewolf.

Han Li leaped backwards, only for their dumb paladin to swing wide. The werewolf roared, its muscles rippled beneath coarse black fur. A silver moon shined above, peering through wispy clouds.

Erm, it'd be great if their meathead of a paladin could actually land a hit. The werewolf was a smaller variety but still towered over them. It was lithe, nimble like a cat, weaving in and out of each swing like a practiced dance.

Its long claws were brandished and—

A snarl, and swipe. Ken's eyes went wide, he didn't have a chance to react to the werewolf's attack. Luckily for him, Han Li was there to kick him to the side. A small 'oof' left his mouth as he tumbled to the ground, narrowly escaping the werewolf's claws.

Han Li was ready to engage with the werewolf once more but he flinched, a silver arrowhead whizzed by, scraping his cheek. He shrieked internally. Why the fuck did they bring a scout that couldn't aim!?

That woman almost killed him three times tonight!

And what was their sentinel doing? Singing and cheering good luck into the communication spell? No, you can't just be a healer and claim you're a sentinel while doing jack shit all. Han Li wanted to scream.

Luckily the werewolf was still there in front of him, able to bear the brunt of his rage. Because heavens help him he won't be able to get paid if he punched one of his teammates in the face and accidentally killed them.

The werewolf lunged at him and he sidestepped its razor-sharp claws. Han Li drove his sword into the beast's shoulder. It stumbled back and howled, flesh twitching in pain. But it wasn't nearly enough, especially without silver.

Okay so right at this moment, Han Li could do the smart thing and reach into his coat and bring out his silver needles. Or he could to the dumb thing and punt the werewolf in the nuts then proceed to punch it in the face.

Han Li went with the stupid thing, listening to the satisfying crunch of breaking bones beneath his fist. He withdrew his sword while the werewolf was still disoriented from pain and confusion and used his chance to kick the beast off balance. "Now, Ken!"

Gods bless, Ken and his stupid face and stupid claymore, finally coming in clutch to slice off the werewolf's head.

Han Li didn't know if he was clapping sarcastically or not. "Wow, that took a lot longer than I expected."

"No thanks to you," Ken hissed, likely referring to Han Li's last stunt.

He shrugged, "Ditto."

Han Li took a step back while their sentinel and scout finally came out of hiding to inspect the state of the werewolf corpse. He fumbled for his phone in his pockets, eyes going wide at the displayed time.

Oh, shoot! He was going to miss the premiere of 'Magical Girl: Makimichi-chan Love'. Sure he could just download it and watch the first episode later but that wouldn't be the same! "Sorry, guys I have to go."

"What?" Clara, their sentinel, blinked at him, not quite understanding. "You…won't stay for the assessment?"

"Nope, sorry!"

Ken clicked his tongue, arms folding over his chest, "It won't be our problem once he fucks up the Entrance Exam."

Han Li laughed, "Yeah, no! I'm not doing the Entrance Exam for the Hunters' Academy, you guys have fun with that."

"What? Why not!" Clara asked with wide eyes.

"It's not for me," Han Li admitted, "I'd rather study art or even engineering."

"But you're the best vanguard of our generation!" Their scout finally spoke up.

That was a bit of an exaggeration if you asked Han Li. "Thank you but no thank you. I'll be off now. Thanks for the hunt, because this is going to be my very last one."

If Han Ruyan hadn't been cremated, she would have turned in her grave.