The rain had stopped before sunrise. Ren noticed it only because the silence outside his window felt different. For the first time in days, there was no water striking the glass, no distant thunder, and no wind pushing against the old wooden shutters. Only silence—the kind that made Ren uneasy.
He sat at the edge of his bed, staring at the small envelope resting on the table. It had been there when he woke. No footsteps. No knock. No explanation. Just the envelope.
His name was written across the front in black ink.
REN.
Ren reached for it. The moment his fingers touched the paper, a cold shiver travelled up his arm. He pulled his hand away, staring at the envelope for several seconds before finally opening it.
Inside was a single piece of parchment.
Four words had been written across it:
Beneath the oldest rose.
Ren's heart sank.
He already knew what that meant.
The garden.
The abandoned garden behind the old estate—the place his family had forbidden him to enter since he was a child, and the same place where he had first discovered that the truth about Kazuki was far more complicated than anyone had told him.
Ren folded the parchment and slipped it into his pocket.
He had promised himself that he would stop searching for answers.
But promises became meaningless when someone kept leaving pieces of the truth directly in front of him.
He left his room and walked downstairs. The corridor was empty, and his footsteps echoed through the old house. When he reached the entrance, however, he stopped.
Someone was standing outside.
Kazuki.
He was leaning against the stone wall beneath the porch, his dark coat damp from the morning mist. When Ren stepped outside, Kazuki lifted his head.
"You received one too," Kazuki said.
Ren narrowed his eyes. "You knew?"
Kazuki pushed himself away from the wall. "I suspected."
"That isn't the same thing."
"No," Kazuki replied quietly. "It isn't."
Kazuki looked toward the forest.
Ren followed his gaze. Beyond the trees stood the old garden.
"We're going there," Ren said.
Kazuki turned toward him. "Ren—"
"I didn't ask."
A faint smile appeared on Kazuki's face. "You're becoming very difficult."
Ren crossed his arms. "Was I easier before?"
Kazuki looked at him for a moment. "I knew you before you knew yourself."
Neither of them spoke after that.
Then Kazuki's expression changed.
"Someone has been inside the garden."
Ren frowned. "How do you know?"
"There are no footprints."
"That doesn't answer my question."
Kazuki's eyes remained fixed on the distant trees. "Because the roses are blooming."
Ren turned toward the garden.
He could see them now—tiny flashes of crimson among the dark bushes.
Roses.
Dozens of them.
They hadn't bloomed in years.
And yet that morning, the entire garden seemed covered in them.
Ren and Kazuki walked toward the iron gate together.
The closer they came, the colder the air became.
Ren pushed against the rusted gate. It opened with a long metallic groan.
Inside, everything looked exactly as he remembered: broken statues, dead vines, a fountain filled with rainwater, and at the very centre of the garden, the oldest rose bush.
Its branches were twisted around a stone structure.
Ren approached it slowly.
Kazuki stopped behind him.
"There," Kazuki said.
Ren looked down.
Hidden beneath the vines was a stone door.
Ren crouched and brushed away the leaves. A symbol appeared beneath them—a rose surrounded by a circle of thorns.
Ren had seen it before.
In his father's old books.
In the family records.
And once...
On Kazuki's hand.
Ren slowly stood and looked at him.
"Kazuki."
Kazuki said nothing.
"Why is that symbol here?"
Kazuki's expression became unreadable.
"Because this place wasn't built by your family."
Ren stared at him. "Then who built it?"
Kazuki looked toward the stone door.
"My family."
Ren's stomach tightened.
"You knew about this?"
"Not all of it."
"That isn't good enough."
"I know."
Kazuki stepped closer to the door. "There are things about my family that I was never told. Just as there are things your family never told you."
Ren stared at the symbol.
"So both of them were lying."
"Probably," Kazuki said.
Ren placed his hand against the symbol.
The stone immediately began to glow.
Kazuki grabbed his wrist.
"Don't."
Too late.
A deep sound echoed beneath the ground.
The stone door began to move.
Slowly, it opened, revealing a staircase disappearing into darkness.
Cold air rushed upward.
Ren stared into the passage.
"What is this place?"
Kazuki loosened his grip on Ren's wrist.
"I don't know."
For once, Ren believed him.
They descended together.
One step.
Then another.
The light from the garden disappeared behind them.
At the bottom was a narrow corridor.
Old paintings covered the walls.
Ren raised the lantern he had brought with him.
His breath caught.
"This is my family," Ren whispered.
Kazuki looked toward the opposite wall.
"And that's mine."
At the centre of the final painting stood two figures—one human and one vampire. Their hands were joined over a single red rose.
Ren moved closer.
"What does this mean?"
Kazuki's voice was barely audible.
"It means the story we were told was never the real story."
Before Ren could respond, a metallic click echoed through the corridor.
Both of them froze.
Ren reached for the weapon at his side.
Kazuki stepped slightly in front of him.
"Stay behind me."
Ren frowned. "I don't need protection."
"I know."
"Then move."
Kazuki looked at him. "Not this time."
The sound came again.
Closer.
Ren raised the lantern.
At the end of the corridor stood an old wooden door.
Words had been carved across it.
THE FIRST BLOOD WAS NOT SHED BY A VAMPIRE.
Ren read the sentence twice.
Then he looked at Kazuki.
"What does that mean?"
Kazuki didn't answer.
Instead, he reached toward the door.
Before his hand touched it, a voice came from the other side.
Soft.
Calm.
Almost familiar.
"Ren."
Ren's blood ran cold.
The voice spoke again.
"It's time you learned what your parents did."
Ren looked at Kazuki.
Kazuki had gone completely pale.
"You know that voice," Ren said.
Kazuki stared at the door.
"I thought he was dead."
The door slowly opened.
Someone stepped out of the darkness.
Ren stared.
He knew that face.
He had seen it in an old family photograph—a photograph that had disappeared years ago.
His father's older brother.
The man everyone had said died before Ren was born.
But he was standing there.
Alive.
And smiling.
"Welcome home, Ren," the man said.
Ren's grip tightened around his weapon.
The man looked at Kazuki, then at the rose symbol carved into the wall.
"You two have finally found the door."
His smile disappeared.
"Unfortunately, you're both far too late."
Ren stared at him. "What happened here?"
The man's expression became cold.
"The war between humans and vampires?"
He paused.
"There was never a war."
Ren felt the world beneath him shift.
"Then what was it?"
The man looked directly into Ren's eyes.
"A sacrifice."
The door slammed shut behind them.
Somewhere deep beneath the estate, something began to wake.