Chapter 1: Farewell to Tokyo
Miko stood still at the center of Narita Airport, her fingers clenched around the cold handle of a worn suitcase. Her heart felt heavier than the luggage she dragged. The departure screen blinked slowly overhead, calling her toward a new beginning she hadn't asked for.
The funeral had been quiet. Just her and the priest. No tears left. Her mother's death had drained them all away. The house was empty now—emptier than silence. But left on the old oak table was an envelope addressed in her mother's handwriting. Inside: a letter, instructions... and a plane ticket to London.
"You'll understand everything there," the letter had said. "Your past didn't start here."
Miko swallowed hard. At eighteen, she was alone. Alone... and flying toward a city her mother had abandoned long ago.
Chapter 2: Arrival in Fog
London met her with rain. Cold, unfeeling rain that stung her skin like needles. Her cab driver said nothing the entire ride. Miko stared through the fogged-up window at a blur of red buses and dripping streetlamps.
She arrived at a narrow flat in Camden Town, greeted by a bored-looking landlord with thick glasses and curry stains on his shirt. Her room was small, with peeling wallpaper and the scent of old mold clinging to the carpet.
The next day, she started English classes in a gray building with wide glass windows. That's where she saw him—Adler Lincoln. He sat alone in the back of the classroom, nose buried in a leather-bound book, wearing a long velvet coat that didn't belong in this decade.
He didn't smile. He didn't speak. But when their eyes met, something stirred in her chest—something cold and familiar.
Chapter 3: The Boy in the Velvet Coat
Adler never joined the others for lunch. He walked the hallways like a ghost. The other students whispered about him: rich, strange, distant. Miko watched from a distance—until the day he turned to her and said, "You're not from here either."
She blinked. "Japan."
"I meant... not from this world," he said, eyes deep and unreadable.
She laughed awkwardly, unsure if he was joking. But there was no humor in his face.
After that, they began sitting together. Talking. He told her about his family's estate in Kent, the history, the books, the cold halls that echoed with memories.
Chapter 4: The Invitation
It was raining again when he asked her.
"You should come," Adler said, flipping a page in his book. "To the estate. This weekend."
"Why?" Miko asked, cautious.
"I want to show you where I come from. Who I really am. Maybe... who you are too."
His words hung in the air like mist. She should have said no. But something in her—a voice not her own—whispered: Go.
Chapter 5: The Lincoln Estate
The car ride was long. Green fields turned to thick woods. The sky darkened as they entered the Lincoln property. Iron gates taller than trees creaked open, revealing a stone mansion with sharp spires and arched windows.
Statues lined the gravel path—hooded, faceless figures watching silently. A butler with pale eyes greeted them at the door.
Inside, time stopped. Velvet drapes, oil paintings with subjects long dead, chandeliers with waxy candles still burning. Miko felt like she had stepped into a museum—or a mausoleum.
She didn't sleep well that night. The house made noises.
Chapter 6: The Portrait Room
It was early morning when she found the hallway. No one had told her about it. She opened the wooden door by mistake and found herself standing in a long corridor lined with portraits.
Eyes followed her. Dozens of paintings—men and women with the same sharp cheekbones, pale skin, and dark eyes.
One stopped her cold.
A girl. Her age. Her face. Exactly.
Miko stepped closer. The plaque beneath read: Miko Lincoln, 1821 – 1839.
She stumbled back. Heart pounding.
"Who is she?" she whispered aloud.
"Someone you used to be," came Adler's voice behind her.
Chapter 7: Whispers in the Dark
The house changed after that. At night, the walls creaked as if breathing. Candles flickered on their own. In her room, voices began to whisper in a language she didn't understand. Words hissed from her pillow. Her name spoken from under the bed.
She asked Adler. "Do you hear them?"
He hesitated. "Yes. Don't listen to them. That's how they get inside."
He pressed an old talisman into her hand. "Keep it near. Always."
Chapter 8: The Book in the Cellar
She followed the whispers one night. Down stone steps to the cellar. Past crates and forgotten trunks. There, she found a room lined with salt and burnt candles.
On the altar—a book. Bound in old leather. Stitched with... something wrong.
Her hands trembled as she flipped through it.
Blood rituals. Ancient contracts. Names she couldn't pronounce.
And one page: "The Vessel Must Be Willing."
She dropped the book.
Chapter 9: Revelations
Adler found her. He didn't deny anything.
"We made a pact," he said. "Centuries ago. Wealth, immortality... but every fifty years, we must give Him a vessel. A girl from the bloodline."
"You mean me."
He nodded slowly.
"You were always meant to return, Miko. It's in your blood. You belong to this house."
"No," she whispered. But her hands were shaking.
Chapter 10: The Ritual
Full moon. The forest. A circle of robed figures chanting. A stone altar, lit by fire.
Miko was dragged forward, wrists bound in silk. Adler stood beside her, dressed in ceremonial robes.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't know it would be you."
The High Priest raised the blade.
Adler struck first.
Chapter 11: The Escape
They ran. Through the trees. The cult screamed behind them.
Adler held her hand, pulling her through mud and roots. "There's a way out. A path the spirits can't follow."
The sky split open with thunder. The ground burned beneath their feet.
Then—silence.
A lone figure blocked their path. A priest in golden robes. A bow drawn.
Chapter 12: The Final Arrow
One arrow.
It pierced Adler's back and went through Miko's chest.
They collapsed together, blood warm between them.
Adler's last breath was soft against her ear. "At least... you didn't go alone."
She smiled. Weakly. Eyes fading.
The forest was still. And then... darkness.
Epilogue: The Painting
Back at the Lincoln estate, a new portrait hung on the wall. A girl with dark hair. Soft smile. Eyes too real.
Miko Lincoln, 2005 – 2023
Her eyes watched. Always watching.
And if you stared long enough, they blinked.