Kael Renjou stood in the rain, the collar of his coat turned up against the chill. The estate grounds were eerily quiet, blanketed in fog and the scent of damp earth. The festival's echo had long since faded, leaving behind only questions—and one too many bodies.
Except now, one of those bodies was missing.
"Are you certain?" Kael asked, his voice low but sharp.
The guards hesitated. One of them—a young woman, barely out of training—nodded with a face gone pale. "The chamber was sealed. No signs of forced entry. And yet…" She swallowed. "Lord Isamu's body is gone."
Kael's jaw tightened. He stepped past them, his boots thudding softly against the polished marble floor of the estate. The room where the body had been kept was cold, undisturbed. No broken glass, no shattered locks, no blood trails.
Only emptiness.
He walked to the slab where the body had been laid. The sheet that once covered it was now folded neatly at the edge. As if someone had taken their time.
Something about it felt... wrong.
Not rushed. Not panicked.
Planned.
Kael's eyes flicked toward the candle at the window—still burning. It had been lit when the body was brought in, meant to honor the noble's soul for three days. It should've burned halfway by now.
It hadn't even touched the wax.
"Time's off," he murmured. "The body was warm too long… and now this."
He turned abruptly, coat swirling behind him, and strode out into the rain. He didn't have answers yet. But he had a theory—and he needed Rin.
---
Rin, meanwhile, sat cross-legged in her dim clinic, the key to the Imperial Archives still tucked into her belt. Her desk was covered in old scrolls, sketched diagrams, and fragments of alchemical glyphs. The room smelled of powdered herbs and ink.
She hadn't slept.
A candle flickered dangerously close to the edge of its holder as she traced a symbol in the air—matching the mark she'd seen on the corpse's wrist. Her hand trembled, not from fear, but from realization.
The letter she'd taken from Lord Isamu's belongings lay open beside her. Most of it had burned at the edges, charred into nothing. But a single phrase had remained legible:
"To die once is mortal. To die twice… is a choice."
A chill coursed down her spine.
She was still staring at it when the door burst open.
Kael stood in the doorway, soaked, sharp-eyed and breathing like he'd run all the way from the estate.
"He's gone," he said without preamble.
Rin blinked. "Who?"
"Lord Isamu."
She stood slowly. "The body?"
"Vanished. Not stolen. Not misplaced. Just… gone."
Their eyes locked.
Rin's mind reeled. "That's not possible."
"It is," Kael said, stepping into the room. His presence filled the space—an energy barely contained, like a storm pressed into human form. "And you know it is. You said his body was too warm. That mark… that letter."
He motioned toward the parchment on her desk. "Tell me everything. Now."
Rin hesitated. Then, with a sigh that was more surrender than breath, she did.
She told him about the symbols, about the letter, about Shion's warning. About the Silver Lotus. About the blood that was still moving inside a dead man's veins.
Kael listened in silence. He didn't interrupt, didn't pace, didn't even blink. Only when she was finished did he speak.
"Then we're not looking at murder," he said. "We're looking at a resurrection."
Rin flinched. "That's impossible."
Kael raised a brow. "So was the body being warm. So was the blood glowing. And yet, here we are."
Rin turned away, heart pounding. "If this is true—if someone brought him back—then who? Why? And how did he vanish again?"
Kael stepped closer. "That's what we need to find out. But one thing's certain: you're not a suspect anymore."
Rin looked over her shoulder.
"I'm a partner now?"
Kael gave a humorless smirk. "Don't get ahead of yourself."
She rolled her eyes. "You're terrible at compliments."
A moment of almost-smile passed between them. Then it was gone, swept away by the gravity of what they now knew.
Rin picked up the letter again, re-reading the phrase.
"To die twice…"
Her voice dropped. "What if this wasn't the first time Lord Isamu died?"
Kael stilled.
"What if the first time wasn't at the festival?" she continued. "What if someone already resurrected him once—and this second death was… a side effect?"
Kael rubbed the back of his neck. "A failed resurrection."
Rin nodded slowly. "The body still warm. The blood alive. The mark—the alchemical binding. And now the disappearance."
Kael turned toward the window, watching the rain.
"And if he wasn't the only one?" he asked quietly.
Rin felt something deep in her chest twist.
She looked down at the final page of the letter.
There was one last line—barely visible, faded, but still there:
"He didn't die alone."
Rin looked up at Kael, voice hollow.
"This isn't over."
Kael didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Because somewhere in the city, under the thunder and the moonlight, another noble was already dead.
And he, too, would be warm.
---