The room smelled faintly of disinfectant and metal.

  I focused on that instead of my thoughts, counting breaths while my body adjusted to being awake. The ache in my chest was dull and manageable. My ribs still complained when I shifted, but the damage was already fading, mana smoothing things over without conscious effort.

  It was efficient. Almost mechanical.

  I flexed my fingers, watching the slight tremor disappear as sensation returned fully. Whatever had been done to my body, it wasn’t enough to slow me down for long.

  That should have been reassuring.

  It wasn’t.

  Doom wasn’t pressing against my thoughts. It wasn’t stirring. It wasn’t demanding anything at all. It existed somewhere deeper, unchanged, untouched by what had happened.

  That made it worse.

  My thoughts kept drifting instead. Not forward. Back.

  Blood on the floor. The way the house had felt wrong before I even understood why. The sound of my own laughter echoing in a place it never should have.

  I thought about my parents.

  Then Akari.

  With my parents, there was certainty, however cruel. With Akari, there was only silence. No proof she was gone. No proof she was safe. Just absence, heavy and unresolved, sitting beside every other loss.

  I sat up slowly. The room tilted, then steadied as my body adjusted. Physically, I was fine.

  Mentally, something had shifted.

  I wasn’t grieving the way I expected. I wasn’t collapsing.

  I was alert.

  That realization unsettled me more than anything else.

  A knock came at the door.

  I didn’t answer. It opened anyway.

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  Tatsuya stepped inside like he belonged there. No badge, no uniform. Just tired eyes and a cup of coffee he clearly hadn’t touched. He pulled a chair closer and sat, studying me the way he always did when something didn’t add up.

  “The message is everywhere now,” he said. “After what you did to the presidential house, nobody thought hiding anything was a good idea.”

  I nodded faintly.

  “I went over the scene again,” he continued. “Every angle. Every inconsistency.”

  I waited.

  “That wasn’t random,” he said. “The timing, the layout, the restraint. Whoever did this knew exactly how long they had and exactly what would bring you back.”

  I exhaled slowly.

  “So it was planned.”

  “It was staged,” he corrected. “Which means killing wasn’t the point. Being seen was.”

  My fingers curled slightly. The air around them warped just enough for him to notice.

  “And the message,” he added. “I’m already ahead of you.”

  I looked up.

  “That’s not a threat,” Tatsuya said. “It’s a rule. He’s telling you this is his game and you’re reacting to it.”

  “He butchered my family,” I said quietly. “And he thinks he gets to set rules.”

  “Yes,” Tatsuya replied. “And he wants you angry. Reckless. If you lose control, he doesn’t need to beat you.”

  Silence stretched.

  “I almost did,” I admitted. “Last night. I felt it.”

  “But you didn’t,” he said. “That matters.”

  He hesitated, then spoke again.

  “There’s something else. Ayame.”

  My head snapped toward him.

  “She’s alive,” he said quickly. “Critical, but stable. What you did gave her time.”

  Relief hit hard enough to make my hands shake.

  “I want to see her.”

  He stood. “I figured you would.”

  Ayame looked smaller than I remembered. Pale beneath the sheets, bandaged, breathing shallow but steady. Reina sat on one side of the bed, Kaori on the other, both quieter than I’d ever seen them.

  Ayame’s eyes fluttered open when I stepped closer.

  “You came,” she whispered.

  “Of course I did.”

  Her fingers twitched. I took her hand carefully.

  “He talked about you,” she said. “Like you were supposed to be watching.”

  My jaw tightened.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I was too late.”

  Her grip tightened just slightly. “No. You weren’t.”

  I focused, letting healing magic flow again. Carefully. Deliberately. It didn’t fix the damage. It couldn’t erase what had been done.

  But her breathing eased. The tension in her face softened.

  Enough.

  Reina let out a shaky breath. Kaori nodded once, eyes sharp with something close to fury.

  “I’ll leave her with you,” I said quietly. “She won’t be alone.”

  Ayame managed the faintest smile before drifting back under.

  Outside the room, Tatsuya waited.

  “She said he told her to remember you,” he said. “That confirms it. This is personal.”

  I leaned against the wall.

  “He thinks this is a hunt,” I said. “That I’ll chase him.”

  “And you will,” Tatsuya replied. “But not blindly.”

  I stared at my hands.

  “He took my parents,” I said. “And he thinks Akari is gone too.”

  Tatsuya’s expression sharpened. “Is she?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “And that scares me more than anything else.”

  Silence settled between us.

  “We play this smart,” he said. “Patterns. Patience. Let him think he’s in control.”

  I smiled, thin and tired.

  “And when he slips,” I said, “I end it.”

  He studied me for a long moment.

  “Just don’t become what he wants you to be.”

  Doom remained quiet. Patient.

  “I’ll try,” I said.