The Moonlit Festival was always a spectacle—an expensive blur of paper lanterns, silk banners, and incense smoke floating through the narrow streets of the imperial capital. From the palace's high eaves to the smallest tea house, everything glimmered in the light of the full moon. But this year, something was off. Heavier.
Studying the slow procession of nobility gliding by in their elaborately embroidered robes, Rin Soryu leaned against the stones of the packed promenade. She was invisible among the flash with her basic gray cloak. That was exactly what she wants. People were quite noisy. Plants remained silent.
She was here for only one reason—to gather a unique moon-bloom herb that opened during this festival. She wasn't interested in the festival itself, though. Her world was made of tinctures and tinctures, where the perfect blend could mean the difference between life and death.
But just as she stooped beside a dark fountain to trim the flower's stem, a palace guard came over to her. He wasn't frantic, but there was strain in his gait—like a taut string.
"You're Rin Soryu?" he demanded, voice cut short.
She stood, squinting. "I am. Who's asking?"
"You're called by the palace. A matter of urgency." He gave her a scroll, its seal made of crimson wax. "A nobleman was killed. You have to inspect the body. They told me you're the most skilled apothecary in the eastern district."
Rin looked at the seal, her heart beating involuntarily. The palace didn't summon anyone. And they didn't summon someone like her—a low-class person with a family name no one remembered.
Still… a corpse that needed her?
"I'll come," she said simply.
The body lay in a ceremonial room in the southern part of the palace. When Rin passed the massive wooden doors, the scent of jasmine tried to cover up the odorl of death underneath, but failed. The room was filled with soft oil lanterns, casting long shadows on the stone floor.
The Lord laying on a platform made of silk and cedar wood. His face was extremely calm, lips slightly parted as if sharing some last secret. He was clearly important - based on the many embroidered robes and the delicate hairpin still attached behind his ear.
Rin edged closer, her keen eyes sweeping every inch. The manner of death wasn't apparent—no wounds, no bruises, no indication of illness. But something was definitely wrong.
She touched her fingertips lightly to his throat.
Warm.
Her brow furrowed. The body was warm—too warm. And yet the man's skin was pale, lifeless. His pupils were dilated. He was definitely dead. But the warmth hinted at… either he'd died just minutes before—or something else was holding heat.
She rolled back the sleeve of his robe to look for bruising.
That's when she noticed it.
An alchemical sigil, marked just above the wrist. Dull, but intentional—like it had been seared into the skin under precise control. It glowed softly in the lamplight, and though she'd never seen this specific sigil, she knew the pattern.
It wasn't a healing symbol.
It was a binding sigil.
Rin swallowed hard, heart pounding. This was no accident.
The quiet scuffle of boots behind her caused her to spin harshly.
A man appeared in the doorway, his tall figure imposing, his black coat embroidered with the imperial crest. His crimson eyes, sharp and narrow, met hers with no hint of warmth.
"Rin Soryu?" he asked. His voice was smooth, low, but had an edge that could slice through steel.
"Yes," she said cautiously.
"I am Kael Renjou, Investigator of the Imperial Bureau. You're the apothecary they called for?"
"I am," she stated again, this time straighter. "The body is—"
"I will ask the questions." He closed in, surveying her as one accustomed to detecting liars. "You just got here. Alone?"
"Yes."
"And you touched the body?"
"I was asked to inspect it," she replied serenely yet firmly.
He remained silent, simply moving ahead of her and kneeling beside the corpse. Following a moment's pause, he reached out to touch the noble's neck, then hesitated.
"You felt it too," she said quietly. "He's warm."
Kael did not answer. He was staring at the mark now, face impassive.
"Do you know that sigil?" she inquired.
"Do you?"
"I… no. But it's alchemical. Maybe experimental."
Kael got up slowly and stared at her once more. "So you do know alchemy."
"Every apothecary knows a little," she said. "But not like this. This is something else."
He did not appear to believe her. "You're not a licensed court physician. What qualified you for this summons?"
"Ask the palace," she replied. "I did not volunteer."
There was a silence between them, broken only by the crack of the oil lamps.
Then Kael was turning, striding towards the exit. "Don't leave the palace without leave. I'll return."
"I'm not under arrest," she cut in.
"No. Not just yet."
And then he was gone.
Rin turned back to the nobleman, her thoughts whirling. That symbol wasn't just odd—it was perilous. And if Kael was present, it meant the Empire was aware of it as well.
But what concerned her most wasn't the symbol.
It was the heat. The impossible, residual heat of a body that refused to cool.
As she backed into the hallway, she remembered that she hadn't even inquired about the nobleman's name.
But something in her gut told her…
She would never forget it.
Not after tonight.
Not after this.