The rain had not stopped. It drummed relentlessly against the rooftops of the Imperial Capital, drowning the city in a hush that pressed against the bones. Rin stood in the doorway of her clinic, watching the world blur through the silver curtain. Her fingers tightened around the letter in her hand—the one Lord Isamu had left behind, or rather, the one someone had ensured he left behind.
She didn't know what disturbed her more: the fact that a dead man had vanished… or the eerie calm that followed.
Behind her, Kael Renjou stood with his arms crossed, soaked to the skin but unmoved by the cold. The oil lamp above them flickered, casting golden light across his sharp features. He hadn't said a word since their conversation minutes ago, and Rin could tell he was thinking—deeply, dangerously.
"It wasn't just resurrection," she said finally, her voice low. "Something more complicated. More calculated."
Kael didn't look at her. "You're still under surveillance."
"I thought I wasn't a suspect anymore."
"You're not." He finally turned his eyes to her. "But you're not innocent, either."
Rin let out a breath, half a scoff. "That's charming."
"I don't do charming," Kael said dryly. "But I do offer bargains."
Rin raised an eyebrow. "Is this the part where you threaten me again?"
"No." He stepped forward, his boots wet against the wooden floor. "This is the part where I tell you the Imperial Guard is forming a special task unit. And whether you like it or not, you're on it."
She crossed her arms. "Let me guess—under your command."
Kael's smirk was brief. "You're quick."
"I'm not your soldier."
"No," he said, voice cooling, "but you're the only one who's seen what I've seen. The only one who knows what we're truly up against. That makes you useful."
"Useful," she repeated, her lips twisting bitterly. "How flattering."
Kael stepped closer, lowering his voice. "This isn't flattery. This is survival. You want to know what happened to Lord Isamu? Why the body disappeared? Why the blood moved? Then work with me. Otherwise, walk away—and wait for the next corpse to show up at your doorstep."
Silence stretched between them, thick with the weight of unspoken truths. Rin looked down at the letter again, the ink smudged where her fingers had gripped it too tightly. Her mind raced through fragments—Shion's warning, the Silver Lotus, the strange warmth of the dead.
"To die once is mortal. To die twice… is a choice."
She swallowed hard. "I want full access to the second body. No red tape. I work alone when necessary. And I need to visit the Archives."
Kael considered. "You'll have it. On one condition."
"I should've known."
"You tell me everything. No holding back. Every theory. Every vision. Every hallucination, if that's what it comes to."
Rin's breath caught. "You don't believe in hallucinations."
"Not usually," he said. "But I saw that body. It wasn't natural. Neither are you."
She flinched. "Thanks."
Kael didn't apologize. "We leave at dawn. You'll examine the second corpse at the barracks. Then we'll visit the estate from your decoded letter. The one with the alchemical seal."
She blinked. "How do you—"
"I read upside down." He gestured toward her desk. "You left the cipher notes in plain view. Rookie mistake."
"Or maybe I just wanted to see if you could keep up."
Kael gave a slight, reluctant nod. "Then we understand each other."
Rin turned away from him, heart pounding. The storm outside raged on, but something inside her had stilled. She wasn't sure if it was dread… or focus.
---
That night, Rin worked by candlelight. Alone now, save for the ever-present whisper of rain tapping against the windows. The clinic felt hollow—too many shadows for comfort.
She laid the letter flat, smoothing its edges, and stared at the faded ink in the margins. Her earlier glance had missed it, but now, under the right light, she saw them clearly: symbols. Tiny glyphs etched around the border like a frame. Not written by pen. Burned in.
She recognized one. A twin spiral, not of nature, but of alchemy—ancient and forbidden. A resurrection glyph, last seen in a text the Empire had long since banned.
And yet, here it was, dancing around a noble's letter like a death sentence.
"Why would anyone bring him back?" she murmured to herself. "And why let him die again?"
She didn't expect an answer. But one arrived, anyway.
A quiet knock at the clinic door.
She froze.
Three taps. Deliberate. Familiar.
She moved slowly, picking up the dagger hidden beneath her desk. Her fingers curled around the hilt, heart hammering.
She opened the door.
Shion Kurogane stood on the steps, his hood soaked, black hair clinging to his face. He looked tired—but his eyes gleamed with that same mischief she could never trust.
"You look like death," Rin said.
"You'd know," he replied smoothly, stepping inside. "I hear you've been playing with corpses again."
She shut the door behind him. "What do you know about the Silver Lotus?"
Shion gave a low whistle. "Straight to business. No tea? No thank-you-for-saving-me-last-year?"
"I'll brew your ashes later."
He chuckled. "You always were romantic."
She handed him the letter. "Decode this. The symbols. You know what they are."
Shion studied it for a long moment, then his expression shifted—just a fraction, but enough for Rin to notice.
"I know where this leads," he said finally. "But I won't say it aloud."
"Why?"
"Because some places shouldn't be remembered. And some names… listen when you speak them."
Rin felt a chill crawl up her spine.
Shion handed the letter back. "But if you're going to the estate mentioned in this, you won't be alone."
"I'm going with Kael."
Shion's smile faded. "Be careful."
"Of him?"
"Of what he might uncover. And what it might awaken in you."
She narrowed her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"
But Shion was already moving to the door. "You'll see. The roots go deep, Rin. And some of them… grow in your blood."
He vanished into the night, leaving the scent of lavender and storm behind him.
---
Rin stood alone again, staring at the letter and the candle flickering low. The flames danced across the twin spirals.
Resurrection.
Bargains.
And bloodlines that refused to stay buried.
In the distance, the bells of the palace chimed midnight.
Dawn—and the next corpse—were closer than she thought.
---