The door closed behind her.
But it didn't lock.
It sealed.
Softly. Silently.Like a breath being held.
Shi Mu stood still for a moment, letting her eyes adjust.
The air inside wasn't cold.
It was alive.
Every inch of the space hummed faintly. Like stone that remembered every footstep ever taken across it.
She was in a hallway.
Long. Narrow. Lit by torches that weren't burning.
Their flames were golden, flickering without heat, casting long shadows that curled inward instead of away.
The walls weren't brick.
They were shelves.
And the shelves were full.
Books.
Letters.
Objects.
All unlabeled.
All glowing faintly—like they were still part of the lives they came from.
And above them, etched across the ceiling, she read:
"For those not forgotten."
[System Notification]
Welcome, Oathbearer.
Memory Archive Access: Level X
Current Archive Tier: Forgotten Spirits (Tier II)
Purpose: To witness. To preserve. To guide.
Shi Mu stepped forward.
She didn't know where to go.
She didn't need to.
The corridor adjusted. Shifted.
Until one object floated gently off a shelf.
A photograph.
Faded. Soft around the edges.
She didn't recognize the face.
But the pain in the eyes—
She knew that look.
She took the photo.
A name shimmered across the bottom.
Ren Lian.
Status: Lost in memory. Bound to silence. Forgotten by kin.
Assigned to: Shi Mu, Oathbearer.
Objective: Recovery. Acknowledgment. Peace.
A low breath whispered through the hallway—
like the archive exhaled.
As if it had waited years to be seen.
And had finally been touched.
Shi Mu held the photograph against her chest.
Not in sorrow.
But in promise.
[System Update]
First Spirit Assigned: Ren Lian
Memory Thread: Dormant – Will awaken upon contact
Brotherhood Value +195 (First Keeper Assignment Accepted)
Current Total: 6,540 / 1,000,000
Shi Mu walked deeper into the archive, steps sure, mark steady beneath her skin.
This was no longer about her past.
This was her purpose.
To carry what others abandoned.
To remember who no one else could.
And behind every sealed door, every photo, every faint memory—
was a story waiting for her voice.