The mark on his palm had faded by morning.
Almost.
It was a ghost of a symbol now—barely there under sunlight, nearly invisible under the bathroom's flickering bulb. But when he stood before the mirror and tilted his hand just so, when the angle of light caught it in the right way between reflection and shadow, it reappeared.
The same symbol from the journal.
The same as the door.
The same as the thing with no mouth.
Ren Kai stared at it for a long time. Not moving. Not blinking. Just... listening.
Because in the silence, he swore he could hear it whispering.
No language. No words. Just the sensation of being remembered by something he couldn't name.
***
He didn't go to school.
He left a short message for Kenzo, something vague about not feeling well. It wasn't exactly a lie, though it didn't cover the whole truth either. Kenzo sent seventeen messages in return. A few were concerned. Most were dramatic. One was just a picture of Kenzo's horrified expression next to his untouched school lunch, captioned "You owe me sushi for this betrayal".
Yuki called once. He didn't pick up.
Instead, he walked.
He didn't know where he was going. He just knew he had to move. That staying still would mean sinking deeper into whatever this was.
The city passed around him in a blur. Lianhua's crowded streets, flashing signs, elegant cafes, students rushing past in uniforms that meant nothing to him right now.
It all felt too loud.
Too clean.
Too real.
Like the world had moved on and left him behind in a memory he hadn't chosen.
***
He ended up at the school again.
Not inside. Just near the east wing.
The hallway that once led to the Archive of Echoes—the forbidden section—was now blocked.
Not with tape. Not with wood or chains you could snap. But with something older.
The entrance was sealed with thick black iron chains etched with ancient symbols. Some looked like letters. Others like eyes. One of them shimmered faintly as he approached.
They weren't just locking the place.
They were protecting the rest of the world from it.
Someone knew what he'd seen.
Someone had sealed it again.
He reached out, just to touch.
Not to pull. Not to test.
Just to feel.
The second his fingers brushed the chain, a jolt ran through his entire body. Not sharp. Not painful. But deep. Like something inside the chain had looked inside him—and recognized something.
The chain didn't burn. Didn't move.
It just... accepted.
Acknowledged.
Like a nod from something ancient.
He stumbled back, breath caught in his throat.
Then he heard the leaves behind him shift.
And when he turned, he saw her.
The girl from the book.
From the memory.
From the forest that bled into ink and dream.
She stood across the courtyard, half-shadowed beneath a bare, twisted tree. Her silver hair fell over one shoulder like a streak of moonlight. Her grey eyes met his with an intensity that could've stopped time.
Around her neck: the pendant.
It glowed again, faintly—like it was remembering something too.
Ren Kai didn't think. He ran.
He didn't know what he planned to say. Or do. He just had to know she was real. That the memory hadn't lied.
But when he crossed the street, she was gone.
No footsteps. No door.
Only the smell of smoke remained. Sweet and cold at the same time.
Familiar.
And at his feet—something soft.
A single black feather.
Not from any bird he knew. Weightless. Glossy. Like ink turned into shape.
He picked it up and pocketed it.
Then, from nowhere, came the whisper.
"You weren't supposed to see that memory."
He spun around.
Empty street.
Just the wind. And the sound of dried leaves curling like secrets.
***
That night, Ren Kai didn't sleep.
Or rather, he did—but not into rest.
He fell into something else entirely.
He was back in the Archive of Echoes.
But now it was burning.
Books ignited one by one, no smoke, just bright blue flames. Shelves cracked apart. Shadows twisted and ran across the walls like things trying to escape.
And in the center stood the figure with no mouth.
Still. Watching. Cradling the violin in both arms like something long dead and loved.
It wasn't playing. But the strings vibrated on their own.
A soft, broken melody.
"You touched the wrong memory," a voice said behind him.
Ren turned.
A man stood in the archway. Long dark coat. Clean-cut hair. Not young, not old. A presence too clean to be human.
His smile was both tired and amused.
"Look at you," he said. "You were supposed to stay dreaming. Floating quietly in your new life. But no—curious little thing had to go poking into doors meant to stay shut."
Kai's voice was dry. "Who are you?"
"A mistake. Or a favor. Depends which version of the story you believe."
"Why me?"
The man gave a soft laugh.
"Because you asked. A long time ago. Before the forgetting. Before the sealing. Before the wish."
A sudden screech came from the violin.
Not music. Something else. Like it was screaming.
"What wish?" Kai shouted over the noise.
The man's smile vanished.
"Same as all the cursed ones. To save someone you couldn't."
The blue fire engulfed everything.
***
Ren Kai woke on the floor.
The journal lay open beside him.
Not the page he last touched.
A new one.
Still warm.
It held a drawing—done in black ink and something that shimmered silver.
The Archive of Echoes. Burning. And a silhouette standing inside it, holding the violin.
Above it, written in jagged script:
She remembers. Do you?