The research room inside Crestfall Castle was silent except for the soft rustle of parchment.
Rhen Calder stood at the long table, one hand pressing the file flat as Akitsu Shouga and Lemon hovered close. The folder Selene Vael had retrieved earlier lay open once more, its contents now scrutinized with far greater intent.
“…Here,” Rhen said, tapping a marked diagram. “This is what we missed before.”
Akitsu leaned in. “Locations?”
“Exact discovery points,” Rhen replied. “All confirmed bodies from the east district.”
Lemon floated higher. “Show me.”
Rhen turned the page. A rough map of the east district was drawn in ink—streets, alleys, abandoned housing blocks. Red marks dotted the area.
Akitsu’s eyes narrowed. “They’re not random.”
“No,” Rhen said quietly. “They’re clustered.”
Lemon tilted his head. “Clustered… around the center.”
Rhen exhaled. “Exactly. Every single corpse appears either in or adjacent to the middle of the east district.”
Akitsu straightened. “Then the killer is hiding there.”
“Or passing through it,” Rhen corrected. “But yes. That’s our best lead.”
Lemon crossed his arms. “Well, at least now we’re not chasing shadows.”
Rhen closed the file. “Then we move. Now.”
Dusk draped itself over Crestfall as they entered the central east district.
Once, it had been a residential hub—narrow streets, shared courtyards, small merchant stalls. Now it felt hollow.
Half the homes were abandoned.
The other half were sealed tight.
Curtains drawn. Doors barred. No lights.
Rhen’s boots echoed too loudly.
“This place feels like it’s holding its breath,” Lemon whispered.
Akitsu scanned the rooftops. “People are watching us.”
Rhen nodded. “Fear does that.”
They passed the alley where Akitsu had encountered the old man earlier.
Akitsu stopped.
“…He’s gone.”
Rhen followed his gaze. “You think that’s important?”
Akitsu shook his head. “Not necessarily. It’s nearly night. He could have hidden.”
Lemon sniffed the air. “Or something found him first.”
Akitsu glanced at Lemon. “Did you smell anything?”
Lemon floated lower, sniffing carefully. “…No. Not yet.”
They continued deeper.
Minutes passed.
Nothing.
No movement. No sound. No sign of struggle.
Rhen frowned. “This doesn’t make sense. If the killer operates here—”
Lemon suddenly froze midair.
“…There.”
Rhen tensed. “You smell it?”
Lemon nodded slowly. “Yes. That same scent. Faint—but spread across the district.”
Akitsu’s hand moved instinctively toward the daggers at his waist. “Then the killer passed through here.”
Rhen shook his head. “Or the scent belongs to something else.”
Lemon turned toward him. “You think it’s not the killer?”
“I think,” Rhen said carefully, “that it’s too obvious. If this scent was the killer’s, we’d have tracked them already.”
Akitsu considered that. “Still. We can’t ignore it. We know almost nothing.”
Rhen nodded. “Agreed. We keep it in mind.”
The sun dipped below the horizon.
Shadows stretched unnaturally long.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
“…It’s night,” Lemon murmured.
A sound echoed.
Step.
All three froze.
Rhen’s hand went to Masamune.
Akitsu drew one dagger—then the second—steel whispering softly.
“Someone’s here,” Rhen said.
Another step.
Slow.
Deliberate.
From the far end of the street, a figure emerged.
Tall.
Thin.
Wrapped in dark, tattered clothing that seemed to ripple despite the lack of wind.
Its face was hidden beneath a hood—but two faint, pale lights gleamed beneath it.
“…That’s not a civilian,” Lemon whispered.
The figure stopped.
Silence.
Then—
“You are… searching,” a voice said.
It echoed strangely, layered—like more than one voice spoke at once.
Rhen stepped forward. “Royal Knight Captain Rhen Calder. Identify yourself.”
The figure tilted its head.
“Names,” it said slowly, “are… temporary.”
Akitsu shifted his stance. “You’re in the center of the east district. Bodies have appeared here. You will remove your hood.”
A soft sound followed.
Laughter.
Low.
Hollow.
“…You are late.”
Rhen drew Masamune fully, the blade catching the moonlight. “Last warning.”
The figure raised one hand.
And the air grew cold.
Lemon recoiled. “That feeling—!”
The ground beneath them darkened, shadows thickening unnaturally.
Akitsu moved first.
He vanished.
In an instant, he reappeared behind the figure, both daggers flashing toward its neck.
Clang.
Something invisible deflected the strike.
Akitsu landed, eyes sharp. “Not human.”
Rhen charged.
Masamune cut a clean arc—
—but passed straight through the figure.
“What—?!”
The figure flickered.
Then reformed behind him.
“You carry many souls,” it whispered near Rhen’s ear.
Rhen spun, slashing again—this time the blade connected, tearing through cloth.
Black mist spilled instead of blood.
Lemon shouted, “That’s the scent! It’s coming from it!”
Akitsu clicked his tongue. “So it is related.”
The figure stepped back, cloak unraveling slightly.
Its face was pale—unnaturally so—eyes glowing faintly.
“You may call me,” it said, “Yurei.”
Rhen steadied his stance. “Yurei. You’re responsible for the deaths.”
Yurei tilted its head. “Deaths? No.”
Akitsu narrowed his eyes. “Then what do you call them?”
“…Harvests.”
The word sent a chill through the street.
Lemon hissed. “I really don’t like that word.”
Yurei lifted both hands.
Shadows surged.
From the surrounding alleys, faint shapes emerged—imprints—like distorted silhouettes of people, frozen in silent screams.
Rhen gritted his teeth. “Spirits…”
Akitsu reached back and pulled Joyeuse, still wrapped in cloth.
“Whatever you are,” he said calmly, “you picked the wrong district.”
Yurei laughed again—this time sharper.
“Then come,” it said. “Let me see how bright your souls burn.”
The street darkened completely.
The confrontation had begun.
And none of them yet knew—
They were facing something far worse than a killer.
