Kael Renjou was the kind of man people noticed—not because he sought attention, but because he carried silence like a weapon. When he entered a room, conversations faltered. People instinctively made space. His black uniform bore the golden insignia of the Imperial Bureau, and the crimson threadwork down the sleeves shimmered faintly under torchlight—symbolic of his elite rank. But it was his eyes that unsettled most.
Eyes like fresh blood on snow.
Rin had read about him, of course. Everyone who worked near the capital had. Kael Renjou—once a street orphan turned imperial shadow. Ruthless. Brilliant. Cold.
And now he was staring at her like she was already halfway guilty.
"I don't like coincidences," he said, voice clipped and controlled. "A dead noble. A summoned apothecary who's not on the palace registry. An unfamiliar alchemical sigil. All in one night."
Rin crossed her arms, refusing to be intimidated. "I wasn't told who I was examining. The message said urgent and offered coin. That's all."
"Then you came for the money?" he asked flatly.
"I came because a dead body stayed warm long after it should have cooled." Her gaze met his. "I came because it doesn't make sense."
A beat of silence passed. The lanterns outside the examination chamber flickered in a breeze neither of them could feel. Kael stepped closer, his boots silent on the polished stone floor.
"You noticed the mark," he said.
"Yes."
"And you still touched the body?"
"I had gloves," she lied. Her gloves were in her satchel, untouched.
His brow ticked up a fraction. "You're either brave, foolish, or very curious."
"Apothecaries don't get far without all three," she said coolly.
A ghost of something passed through his expression—amusement, maybe. But it vanished too quickly to name.
He turned away and paced slowly around the ceremonial platform, hands clasped behind his back. "The mark doesn't match anything in our archives. Not officially. But I've seen something like it before."
Rin's breath caught. "Where?"
Kael glanced at her. "That's not your concern."
"If I'm to help, I need to know—"
"You're not here to help." His tone cut the air. "You're here because you might have answers. Or because you're hiding something."
Rin clenched her jaw. "I didn't kill him."
"No," Kael said quietly. "You didn't. You wouldn't be that sloppy."
She stared at him. "What do you mean by that?"
He stepped closer again, studying her face—not with suspicion this time, but calculation. "Your hands don't tremble. Your eyes don't flinch from the dead. You're too calm. Which means either you've seen this before… or you were expecting it."
Rin's heart pounded against her ribs. "I was called here by your palace. Don't project your paranoia onto me."
Kael's gaze flicked to the body again. "His name was Lord Isamu Yurei. He served on the Imperial Council. He died during the Moonlit Festival. No witnesses. No wounds. And no one saw him fall."
"That's impossible."
"And yet here we are."
They stood in silence for a moment, both staring at the corpse as though willing it to explain itself. Rin couldn't help noticing how Kael positioned himself—not just between her and the body, but also within reach of his blade. He didn't trust her. But maybe, just maybe, he wanted to.
"I'll run an internal blood test," Rin said softly. "I need my kit."
Kael's expression darkened. "You'll run nothing without supervision. You leave, you do so with me."
She exhaled sharply. "I'm not your prisoner."
"You're not free either."
Rin's fingers twitched at her side. Part of her wanted to argue, to challenge his authority just to feel something solid in the chaos of tonight. But logic over pride. That had always been her rule.
"Fine," she muttered. "Then escort me to my clinic. I'll get my equipment."
"I don't leave the palace until the Empress grants permission."
She paused. "Then you'll have to trust me."
Kael gave her a long, unreadable look. Then, surprisingly, he nodded.
"Very well. Take a guard with you. Bring what you need. I'll be here."
Rin didn't argue this time. As she turned to leave, his voice stopped her in the doorway.
"One more thing," he said. "If that mark is what I think it is… then tonight was just the beginning."
She didn't reply.
Because in her gut, she knew he was right.