“...Are you certain about this?” Morgan asked as I once again took over the conference room for myself. “The culprit is an Alternate?”


    “Ninety-eight percent certain,” I said. “It can’t be an animal or a human. Animals leave tracks, and with the sophistication required to pull off this stunt, it’s not realistically your average joe let alone Slayer. That leaves the only possible option: an Alternate.”


    Morgan sighed on his end of the call, taking a few seconds to digest this information. “...If the pattern holds true, I don’t know if we can give you the manpower when midnight strikes. The situation at Glory has escalated, and it’s requiring all of our attention.”


    I gulped. “How bad is it?”


    “Silverhonor’s gone missing, and Archknell is hysterical. With Agent Dwyer scurrying around the city, he thinks the malies kidnapped her. We—more specifically, Empress and Firebrand—had to hold him back from marching out the front-doors and committing global terrorism. We think an Alternate is involved in her disappearance, but we’re still gathering details. Nothing’s confirmed for now.”


    Shit… Of all people in Glory, why her? We hadn’t spoken since we wrapped up System Articles and we sure as hell weren’t on friendly terms, but fuck… Both possibilities were terrible. Being kidnapped by the malies was a fate worse than death, and facing an Alternate was a complete unknown.


    I asked, trying not to think about Silverhonor right now, “What’s Sophos doing throughout this?”


    “She’s still working on a ‘project that should end this charade once and for all,’ her words. Our GMs have their hands tied as well, so we’re the only ones preventing a city-wide catastrophe. Wonderful.” Morgan groaned and something banged. Sounded like a head against table. “If that wasn’t clear enough, I’m being sarcastic. It’s very likely that you have to rely on the talent you have, which from what Rector says, they’re quite strong.”


    I glanced toward the door. “A cultivator, an esper, and an assassin definitely are a fighting force, but you know these Alts. The last one was fucking Seraph. If this Alt turns out to be Jin Junjie, we’re fucked. That’s a fight we can’t win.”


    “I’m taking that into consideration. There’s only one real way to move forward…” Morgan inhaled. “You have to identify the Alternate. I can’t tell you what you should look for, as our information is still scarce. Think back to our conversation with Seraph, though. Her Alternate, as we theorized, is a version of Sera Creed grieving the death of Nathan Hyun—a future that did not come to pass. In fact, assume your Kotone friend is correct: this is a ghost. The Jin Family Manor is haunted by someone linked to this god-forsaken family’s wrongdoings. It could be Jin Junjie himself, perhaps a version where he grew a spine. It could be any one of his many enemies, big and small. It’s not an easy task, I know, but as soon as you identify the threat, we can move forward with an action plan.”


    He was right: this wouldn’t be fucking easy. Jin Junjie made a lot of enemies, and everyone wanted their pound of flesh. Worse, I had to consider both dead and currently living candidates since Seraph was still alive when her Alt appeared.


    Dammit… I could practically see the whiteboards filled with names.


    But this helped. I had an objective.


    I nodded, dreading the coming hours. “Got it. Hopefully, I can dig something up. Thanks, Morgan.”


    “I’m simply doing my job. I understand why Rector loathes his position.” Morgan sighed again. “It’s constant chaos. A boy like me shouldn’t be subjected to inhumane labor.”


    “You’re mentally twenty-five.”


    “What would I give to have the same mental age as my physical body…”


    ***


    “So.” Blackviper had her arms crossed. “You confirmed with your superiors that the culprit is actually a ghost, and they’re most likely an old enemy of the Jins.”


    Kotone added, “Who’s coming back to haunt them midnight tonight.”


    Then Chunhua, “But it could also be the Jins themselves.”


    I nodded a few times, hearing how ridiculous that all sounded. “Yeah, pretty much.”


    BV exhaled and her shoulders sagged. “It’s gonna be a long-ass day.”


    ***


    Needless to say, trying to identify every enemy that the Jins made was the equivalent of individually listing the entire population of a small country. We had even informed Jin Tianyou that the culprit was connected to his past or even potentially himself; according to Blackviper, he laughed it off and praised our “diligent work.” So he was going to be unhelpful and the current terms of the “agreement” were still valid. Asshole.


    The suspect pool was too fucking large. It could be virtually anyone with a grudge against Jin Junjie or his son. It could be them, but my hunch said an enemy or an associate was likelier. Personally, the Alternate was connected to the father due to his past antics, but we couldn’t discount anything at this point of the investigation. The timeframe was extensive too. Seraph, according to the internet, was thirty-six (pretty damn young considering her accomplishments). Her Alternate was at least eighteen, so roughly twenty years ago.


    That was the baseline we were working with: anyone who hated the Jins enough, dead or alive, going back twenty years if not further.


    Spelling out our task was demoralizing, for both myself and my team. We had to press on anyway.


    “Here.” Blackviper slammed down a giant stack of paper onto the conference table. It toppled over and scattered across the surface. “This is every employee who has worked here since the Manor’s construction. Plus, I sent you the contact info for all the current employees.”


    “Thanks…” I sipped warm tea that Chunhua was kind enough to brew for me. I would need it, because for the next few hours, I was going to be an annoying telemarketer.


    While everyone was combing through the files, I was sitting at the end of the table with my phone plugged to the wall. I called the victims first; well, more precisely, their families. My opening was: <Good day, I’m Shen Yuhang (沈宇航), an investigator Guild Master Jin employed regarding the incident. I received your number to discuss details about what happened that night.>


    They didn’t ask questions—they were taught not to—and relayed what the victims had said. Huang Chunxi was working the night shift; everything was normal until she heard a strange sound in the wind.


    <Singing,> said Huang Chunxi’s daughter. <M-My mother said she heard a woman singing a lullaby. When she turned to look, that’s when something jumped on her… She can’t remember what happened but all she saw was ‘red’...>


    After the first attack, He Zhilan was understandably freaked out; however, as Jin Tianyou hadn’t taken aggressive action, the Manor’s operations proceeded as normal. For him, the circumstances were the same: night shift, performing his duties, until he too heard something.


    <My husband heard someone crying,> his wife told me. <That’s all he said: ‘Someone was crying… Someone was crying… Someone was crying.’ Are you happy now, Investigator Shen? My husband has been brutalized because of that horrible man. We know better than to approach the police, but we will not be civil with our compliance. Go to hell, you and Guild Master Jin.>


    A woman singing the a lullaby… Wearing red… Crying… That halved our suspect pool statistically-speaking, but as you expected from an immoral cultivator, Jin Junjie didn’t have the best track record with the opposite gender.


    After getting what information I could from the victims’ families—for now, at least—I turned toward the employees who’d been working night shifts during those days. Same opening, same questions.


    <I-I didn’t hear any singing or crying, or maybe I did, I don’t know!> said one of the employees.


    <Singing? Crying? Who cares about any of that? What’s Guild Master Jin going to do? How is he going to compensate us, huh?> said another.


    <Wearing red? Our uniforms don’t have any bright red.>


    <It’s Angels Guild, I swear. They’re letting all these monsters loose.>


    <I didn’t see anything on the roof—what? You found torn red fabric? Wasn’t any of ours.>


    Thanks to Blackviper, I also gained access to the employees’ group-chat. Might contain information that they didn’t dare disclose to the scary investigator. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. Scrolling through the backlog of the past two days, most of the exchange was people asking questions and thinly-veiled insults toward their employers. I sympathize, but none of the messages here were useful—


    “I think I got something!” Kotone suddenly hopped from her seat, holding her phone with two shaky hands.


    She showed us the screen: a pretty antiquated website about Chinese spirits and ghosts. The article she was on described something called a “nu gui.” I wasn’t big on the paranormal, so despite my Chinese heritage, I was basically flying blind. Why was she researching literal ghosts, though? I used the word “ghost” because that was the best way to describe the Alternates, but to take it literally…


    I spoke up, “Kotone, I think—”


    “Wait, don’t dismiss it just yet!” Kotone turned the phone back to herself. “We know our paranormal friend is a woman wearing red, right? As it turns out, the nu gui perfectly describes her. It’s a female vengeful spirit, created when a woman commits suicide after being wronged. That’s not everything. During the, y’know, she wears a red dress to increase the odds of returning as a grudge—why are you guys staring at me like that?”


    Wait, I heard this before. A woman who’d been wronged by Jin Junjie, consequently taking her own life while wearing a red dress. I know this story. I know her name. It was…


    “Zhu Xinyue (朱鑫月),” the three of us said. Me, Chunhua, and Blackviper.


    Kotone looked around the table. “Who?”


    BV immediately started rummaging through the older employee files. “She’s—she was—Jin Tianyou’s mother and the dead wife of Jin Junjie. Around two decades ago, she lived here before ‘an incident’ happened. Must’ve been bad, ‘cause she got shipped off to her family’s manor in the Jianghu. That’s when she picked out a pretty red dress, did her make-up and said her farewells, and took a nose-dive off her balcony.”


    Chunhua added, “I know of her family. After that ‘incident,’ the Zhu House was forced to pay ‘reparations’ to Jin Junjie which had effectively destroyed them—”


    I started waving my hands. “Wait wait wait, are we absolutely certain that our suspect is Zhu Xinyue?”


    “It is!” Chunhua raised her voice. “The details match. Zhu Xinyue is a woman, possesses a grudge against the Jins, and is most known for wearing red.”


    The other two girls weren’t verbally disagreeing with her. Well, Kotone perpetually didn’t know what was going on. If Blackviper wasn’t speaking out, then she had to agree with the speculation somewhat.


    Then, it was my job to show some skepticism: “I’m not saying it’s wrong, but we need to be confident about this. If we’re wrong, if our ghost isn’t Zhu Xinyue, then we’re fucked at midnight. Going against a cultivator is, according to personal experience—” (glancing at Chunhua) “—unpleasant at best.”


    Blackviper slid over a small stack of files to me: old employees when Zhu Xinyue had still lived here. “For once, I’m agreeing with the cultivator. She’s our mark.”


    Chunhua and Kotone nodded.


    I took the files, then. “Alright. Let’s pick apart her life. Don’t leave any details out.”


    We went to work, concentrating our efforts on Zhu Xinyue. First thing we did was notify Jin Tianyou. For most people, hearing that their deceased mother was roaming around and clawing random people, they would understandably freak out. Jin Tianyou was different, because he once again laughed it off and praised us for our good work. Wasn’t sure how to take that, but we moved on.


    I also notified Morgan that we identified the Alternate; the specs we were gathering about Zhu Xinyue indicated she wasn’t a particularly strong cultivator. For now, I said that additional firepower wasn’t needed but we left the door open for any unexpected surprises.


    As we gathered more information, though, I was beginning to believe it.


    “Transcendental Beauty Zhu Xinyue…” I muttered to myself. “The Zhu House knows how to glamorize their heirs.”


    Chunhua bit her lip, combing through a few articles online. The Jianghu wasn’t known to post information to the internet; everything was mostly physical records. “You’re wrong. It’s not to glamorize, it’s to advertise.”This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Blackviper snorted, stirring her instant ramen—our lunch—with a pair of chopsticks too good for it. “Some things don’t change no matter what world you live in.”


    Chunhua ignored her comment and explained, “It’s…not uncommon for smaller houses and sects to treat their daughters as merchandise, regarding their wombs as treasures. Their purpose is to birth the next great heir of a major sect, being useful for only nine months out of their entire lives. These women try to be ideal wives, because otherwise, they would most likely be discarded.”


    “And Zhu Xinyue was one of them?” Kotone somberly asked, and Chunhua nodded. “S-So the Zhu House basically sold their daughter to Jin Junjie?”


    “To give birth to Jin Tianyou, yes. Fortunately, she wasn’t immediately discarded. According to what little information there is online, Zhu Xinyue was notably a ‘once-in-a-generation musician with a voice of smooth cider.’”


    I finished the story, “Until the incident happened, and she was sent home.”


    We were all thinking the same thing, but my thoughts ran a layer deeper. Remember what Morgan had said about the Seraph Alternate? If she was born from an unrealized future where Nathan had passed, then Zhu Xinyue had to operate on the same logic. In that case, the “incident” had to be the divergent point like Nathan''s fate.


    So what happened twenty years ago, just before she committed suicide?


    We turned our attention to the former employees during the time. We gathered their contact info and made phone-calls. Many didn’t answer, but those that did brought mixed results. They weren’t pleased that their old employment was bothering them, but after picking the right words, they shed light on Zhu Xinyue’s departure.


    What little light.


    As expected, Jin Junjie had covered up nearly everything. Nobody, not even the most trusted and senior staff at the time, knew. What was told was this: Zhu Xinyue had a mental break and “endangered the life of her four-year-old son,” and for that reason, she was sent home to “rest.” Most of the employees said that this outcome was depressingly expected. Jin Junjie had forbade her from traveling beyond the walls without his company. This “Manor” was her own prison, where she could only observe the outside world from her isolated balcony. All she could do was watch her own son and “sadly sing from her perch at midnight.”


    We pressed for details, but that was all they knew.


    Zhu Xinyue simply couldn’t take the isolation anymore and snapped. In what way, we didn’t know.


    We spoke with employees for hours and hours, and before I knew it, the hour-hand passed four.


    Four in the afternoon, eight hours until midnight.


    Kotone was resting her head against the table, BV had gone to the records room to investigate by herself (as we weren’t allowed in the building), and Chunhua was busily researching on a laptop. She’d been working the hardest out of us, more out of discipline rather than enthusiasm.


    Chunhua looked up from the screen. “Are you alright, Alex?”


    I shook my head and glanced at the whiteboards; they had fallen victim to my mad scratching. Nothing but facts about Zhu Xinyue. Useless trivia like her birthday to a bulleted chronology of her life. “I wish our ghost was another cultivator like Jin Junjie. At least we’ll be smiling about it.”


    “I’m afraid there are rarely happy stories in the Jianghu.” You included. “Except yours, I suppose.”


    “Huh?” Kotone lifted her cheek off the table. “I thought you were American.”


    I answered, “My mom was born in the Jianghu but was adopted into a Mainland family. It’s a long story, I don’t want to get into it, but yeah. By technicality, I’m half-xia. Who knows, me and Chunhua could be cousins.”


    Chunhua had an expression that could only be described as “Yikes!”. “I hope not. It would make our three-and-a-half dates incredibly awkward in retrospect.”


    Kotone cleared her throat. “So what I’m hearing is: you’re half-xia and you never tried to figure out what sect you belong to?”


    Believe me, we would love to know that information. I didn''t let her question visibly rattle me, and I said, “We did, but eventually we gave up. I’d rather not know anyway. It might bring more drama into my life.”


    Out of the corner of my eye, a frown developed on Chunhua''s chapped lips. My attention was stolen by Kotone leaning back as far as she could in her chair. “Speaking of drama, we’re doomed, aren’t we? What does Jin Tianyou want from us? Dispatch his own mom? We already solved most of the mysteries! What is he gonna do? Expose us to the internationals, and we get locked up—” (“Kotone.”) “—and interrogated and enslaved by the malies—!”


    “Kotone! You’re being silly again,” Chunhua said, clicking her tongue like an unamused aunt. “We did enough. Even if Jin Tianyou is unsatisfied, our work explains itself. At most, it means we won’t be accepted into Martials Guild—a blessing, I’d say. Even if we succeed, I refuse to sign a contract with him.”


    I popped, “What changed your tune? You were determined to cozy up to the Coward of Red Tears.”


    She didn’t appreciate that snide comment and showed a deadly smile. “Jin Tianyou brought us here as leverage. Who’s to say he won’t pull further stunts like this in the future? And besides…” She gulped, her expression briefly falling dark. “I refuse to be used like this again.”


    Was that why she was so pissed earlier? Being used like a pawn or realizing a future with Martials Guild wasn’t in the books—? No, her anger ran much, much deeper than that.


    “...What’s your plan now?” I carefully asked.


    Chunhua dramatically sighed to release the bad demons from her lungs. “I’m more interested in what our sweet esper is planning.” (“Huh?”) “Obviously, I won’t let you sign into Martials now this has happened.”


    Kotone nervously laughed; I bet she hadn''t thought about the future until now. “Does it look like I have my future planned out? I mean, I picked Martials on a whim—”


    “You picked Martials because of me,” Chunhua said sweetly, but her kind tone wasn’t replicated in her eyes. “I couldn’t voice my thoughts back then, but I had always objected to your decision. Martials Guild isn''t right for you—"


    “What does that mean?” Kotone retorted, quick and sharp.


    Just like that, the room got a little quieter. Chunhua did not immediately respond, but her true thoughts were written plain across her face. Martials Guild was different from the rest of the Big Four; it partially resembled a sect and brought all the wrong politics from it. The culture was said to be ruthless, intensely competitive, downright an active hostile environment at times. Theoretically, it would take a sweet girl like Kotone, chew her up then spit her out.


    “You’re too weak and vulnerable for Martials,” that was Chunhua''s message. It hung thickly in the air without a single verbalized word.


    Kotone started playing with her fingers, restless. She cracked a few of her joints, rubbed her callouses, anything to shake off the jitters inside her heart. She said, “Alex—”


    “I’ve been wondering that too,” I confessed, not letting her ask the obvious question. “You have [All-Machine Resonance], a damn good psionic [Skill], so why here? I was thinking Wisdom for their resources, or Angels like me and Vic. Not Martials. Hell, you could go back to Japan—”


    “I enrolled in OU because I don’t wanna go back home.” Kotone stared cold at her best friend. “I love Kyoto, but not that much. So what I chose Martials? Why does that bother you? Do you not want me to join, huh?”


    No answer.


    Chunhua, who’d been a wildfire throughout the whole day, could only stare at the scratched surface of the conference table. I didn’t know what to say either. It wasn’t my place, first of all, but not even a silver tongue could talk your way out of this corner.


    "Okay." Kotone stood, all her usual goofiness sapped from her posture. “I’m gonna take a walk.”


    She left the room quietly, not even slamming the door. And now there were two. I think we officially hit rock-bottom in terms of morale. Last thing I wanted—last thing I imagined today—was to have their friendship strained. Seeing Chunhua like this, blankly staring at her laptop and rubbing her drained eyes, was miserable.


    I whistled to diffuse the bad energy in the air. <Chunhua—>


    <I really am something,> she said quietly. <I don’t deserve a friend as sweet as Kotone. She’s too good for me. But you understand, don’t you, Alexander?>


    <About what?>


    A flame was reignited in her gaze, existing alongside her deep sorrow. <About why I’m on this path. I may live in Ordo, but at the end of the day, I am still a cultivator of the Jianghu. I’m the exiled protege of Spear Patron Li Ying. Nothing has changed. Nothing…>


    That’s right, I remember now. Everything was starting to click together again. Chunhua had wasted thousands of hours training for Martials Guild due to a certain asshole. She could no longer use the Jins and their connections as a stepping stone back home. After three years, she hadn’t inched closer to her true objective—the reason why she moved to Ordo at all. Otherwise, why would she? A cultivator like her wouldn’t be allured by the gorgeous vistas or promises of fame and fortune; no, she was raised to hate the urban, westernized world.


    Yet she needed to bite the bullet in order to accomplish her life’s mission. A year ago, she had entrusted me with this secret.


    <No matter what…> Chunhua swallowed, giving the opposite wall a mile-long stare. Her pupils were pinpoints, shaking, as if she had been transported back to her former sect. <I… I must return to the Jianghu and kill that fucking bastard with my own hands! Nothing…! Nothing else matters.>


    ***


    BV returned with nothing to show for it, and Kotone came back a little after too. All we could do was get back to work and try to figure out the final mystery.


    I kept track of the current drama at Glory Guild. Silverhonor was still missing but it was kept hush-hush by everybody. They had been retracing her last steps, but so far, no luck. Trying to reach out to SH through [DMs] proved fruitless as well, so they were experimenting with a whole bunch of methods. Worst case, they’d need to call in outside help which would jeopardize the secrecy. To top it off, they still weren’t sure if her disappearance was linked to the Alts.


    Rector and Seraph fared no better on their end either. Due to the breakthrough and the indefinite delay of guild try-outs, they were getting nailed inside and out. The internationals and media were demanding answers. The Board of Operations were asking too many questions. In the middle of the interrogations, they had to figure out their next moves guild-wise while ensuring our conspiracy wouldn''t torpedo them.


    To top it off, Uncle Ali and Thea had been bugging me about the investigation.


    And I still hadn''t solved the mystery.


    I blinked, it was eight at night. The sun had fallen, and lights flickered alive across the desolate and barren Manor. Insects chirped. Gravel crunched underneath my boots. The wind whispered like a thousand ghosts and brought chills down my spine. I wasn’t superstitious—I was emotional and irrational, yeah—but the eerie sight of the Jin Family Manor made me a believer in the supernatural. A tortured soul lurked in the shadows somewhere.


    Four hours before our deadline, and Morgan had an additional deadline as well: I should make the last judgment call at ten. If I was confident this team could take down Zhu Xinyue, then we should. If not, pull out. I couldn’t directly mention Morgan''s deadline to the girls due to Blackviper’s presence, but I had my ways to gauge public opinion.


    To get out of that stuffy conference room, we loitered in the main courtyard where I first met Jin Tianyou this morning. Over twelve hours ago, I was nearly pissing myself while speaking with him; now, my fear was replaced with homicidal tendencies.


    I devoured a rice-cake from the kitchen, which might as well be my dinner for tonight. “You guys think we can handle Zhu Xinyue?”


    BV raised an eyebrow, munching on a granola bar. “You think she’ll pose a challenge?”


    I finished my snack and wiped my hands. “It’s a good habit to prepare for the worst.”


    Kotone''s dinner was a large cookie. “What makes you say that? We have a lot of firepower right now, don’t we?”


    My head nodded side-to-side. “You know how Rector was incapped yesterday, and how I’m sore as hell?” (Everyone nodded.) “That was because of the breakthrough. We nearly got wiped because of the breacher.”


    Sharing this small revelation brought a mixture of reactions from the girls. Dread, annoyance, more annoyance. Really, only Kotone was demoralized. My bad.


    Blackviper ate the last of her granola bar, crushed the wrapper into a tight ball, and threw it aside. “I should’ve used my sick days, dammit. Guess that settles it: we should wrap up our detective work soon and start making preparations. Maybe if we’re lucky, Jin Tianyou can visit early.”


    Chunhua mustered a quiet scoff. “Do you really believe he’ll come? He''ll most likely abandon us to his mother so he can test Alexander’s skills. You might be ordered to do the same.”


    She didn’t try to argue.


    “At least say something, assassin! Make your scheming less obvious—! (“Hold on.”) “—don’t tell me to—!”


    Blackviper exclaimed in a loud whisper, “Shut the fuck up!”


    Chunhua kept going, “The audacity—“


    “I told you to shut the fuck up!” BV whispered with more ferocity.


    After all the conversations we had together, why would a woman like her suddenly drop her voice?


    Realizing that, we stopped talking and listened. The Manor had fallen into complete silence, and something changed in the air.


    BV’s cybernetic eyes glowed with information. “A silent alarm has just been triggered. The security barrier caught an unknown about fifty meters north from our position.”


    Kotone stiffened like a log. “I-I thought the ghost came at midnight. It’s not even nine yet—!”


    “Shut it.” Blackviper faced northward toward our bogey. We didn’t hear them. Not a single thing. No singing, no crying, just our breaths and my heartbeat inside my stomach. “It’s moving.”


    Chunhua whipped her arm out. Leaves peeled from her robes to form a shape: a long and thorny spear, which had vines coiling around the shaft like taut rope, finishing off with a marble-white spearhead. This was the prized spear-creation technique taught to her by Li Ying: [Spear Blossom].


    Blackviper pressed something on her right thigh, and she produced the same sleek black sword I’d seen earlier in the day. “It’s approaching the northern gates.”


    “Dammit,” I hissed and clapped my hands together.


    [Memento Recollection - Nightingale Rifle]


    “I’m notifying Jin Tianyou right now,” BV said, cool and collected. “When the intruder walks through the gate, murk it. Don’t take any chances, but try not to destroy more property. Right, esper?”


    Kotone was flabbergasted. “Why are you pointing me out—?!” (“You espers cause the most collateral damage.”) “—I don''t!”


    “Focus!” I reminded everyone, my barrel aimed toward the northern red gates.


    “Whatever, twenty meters!” Blackviper told us, eyes locked on the same target.


    We maintained our positions. “It’s comin’ fast.”


    We steeled ourselves. “Fifteen.”


    Adrenaline poured into my bloodstream. “Ten.”


    A familiar soreness creeped into my muscles. “It’s here—“


    We finally heard a noise: the sound of life that didn’t belong to us, the animals, or the insects. I couldn’t tell what it was, what our intruder was saying or what they were doing, because the gates rumbled louder. The thick wood awfully creaked and made this horrible screaming noise like a rabbit being slaughtered.


    The gates opened.


    “Moshi-moshi—? AHHH!”


    Chunhua had already pounced. She crossed the distance in less than an eyeblink and we heard the deadly sound of a spear sinking into something soft. Flesh? No, couldn’t be. It was…


    It was sand and gravel.


    “What the—?! Tell me your name or I’ll paint this manor with your entrails—!”


    “NOOO! I’M SORRY! DON’T KILL ME!” screamed the intruder. That… That did not sound like a ghost. It sounded like a kid.


    Blackviper put her sword down. “The fuck?” She started running over.


    Me and Kotone glanced at each other just as confused, and chased after her.


    When we regrouped with Chunhua, she was blankly staring at our intruder—our fucking “ghost”—who was hysterically sobbing. The spear lodged next to his head had completely paralyzed him, so all he could do was lay there and cry his little heart out.


    This… This kid didn’t look older than eighteen. Had whitish-blue hair and—wait.


    I looked him over.


    I knew this kid.


    I saw him before.


    “You’re…” The Japanese boy opened his cosmic-blue eyes and stared up at me. “You’re that kid from Primordial Plaza. Amamizu Rei, right?”