Location: Unknown – Twilight Dusk
As Akira stepped through the alley, his pulse surged.
"No way. Where's the road? The bookshop?"
He spun in place, eyes scanning the vibrant chaos that had replaced the sleepy evening streets of Tatsumori. Panic coiled in his chest like a tightening spring, cold sweat blooming across his back. His fingers instinctively clenched the strap of his sling bag, tightening it against his shoulder as if securing himself would make the world less uncertain.
A flickering sign, hanging impossibly between two crooked lantern posts, caught his eye. Painted in elegant, flowing Kanji characters, it read:
星霊夜市 —Astral Spirit Night Market—
a name that seemed to hum softly, like a whisper meant only for him.
Where there should've been sidewalks, ramen stalls, and the crooked yellow awning of Matsuya Books, there was… this.
An entire world.
Crimson lanterns bobbed lazily in the air, casting dappled shadows against fluttering banners stitched with shimmering ink. The cobblestones beneath his feet weren't part of any street he knew—polished with time, they curved and twisted unnaturally, bending into alleys that shimmered like heat mirages. The sky overhead rippled faintly, painted in hues of violet and gold, like a dream just beginning to turn strange.
And then—
The voices.
He turned, startled. Creatures bustled past him—dozens, maybe hundreds. Some wore masks shaped like frogs or serpents, others had furred ears or scales glinting under their cloaks. And yet—many were humanlike in form, walking upright, speaking, gesturing, but with subtle differences that made his chest tighten with awe.
A young man slipped past him, silver fox ears flicking with nervous energy, his tail swaying in rhythm with his hurried stride. Children with feathered wings tucked neatly against their backs darted between stalls, laughing as they vanished behind lanterns. Even the elderly seemed touched by some strange beauty: a stooped figure with antler-like growths curling from his temples, robes glimmering with tiny motes of light.
Each of them moved naturally, perfectly at home in this twisted marketplace—but to Akira, they were breathtakingly alien, a seamless fusion of human and something entirely other.
And the market itself seemed alive with every sense.
Steam curled from vats of glowing noodles, strands twirling in midair before vanishing like liquid light.
Then—silence.
For a heartbeat the market muted itself; even the lanterns stopped swaying.
Akira tasted copper on his tongue—his own breath, too loud.
The spell broke: skewers hissed, candied fruits drifted past, and the honeyed scent pooled thick enough to drown in.
In one corner, a vendor offered "wind bread," loaves that pulsed faintly as if breathing, their crusts crackling softly when tapped.
Metal trinkets clinked under soft hands, delicate chains and charms carved from jade, amber, or glimmering crystal. Lanterns of every imaginable shape—foxes, moons, teardrops, and keys—swayed above the stalls, each emitting a soft hum or faint whisper. Occasionally, a soft chime rang out, like bells carried on a breeze that didn't exist, making him flinch at the sudden beauty.
The chatter was layered, musical, unlike anything he'd heard before. Frog-masked merchants croaked bargaining in low, bubbling tones, while bird-eared children mimicked them in high, fluting voices. Somewhere, a drumbeat thumped softly, steady, irregular, threading through the market like a pulse he could feel in his chest.
He staggered back a step, overwhelmed.
"This isn't a festival…" he murmured, breath catching. "This is something else."
A frog-masked merchant—though as Akira stepped closer, he realized it was a frog-headed being—haggled over floating lanterns with tiny flames flickering like eyes. A weasel-eared girl giggled, balancing a tray of steaming moon-colored tea whose scent was at once floral, earthy, and oddly sweet. Even the trees whispered—tall gnarled things with braided bark and blossoms that glowed faintly in the air like fireflies, their leaves brushing softly against each other in a rustling murmur.
Akira felt his head spin, heart hammering. Every step brought new wonders—shimmering fabrics that felt almost liquid beneath his fingers, spices that burned sweetly when inhaled, trays of candy shaped like miniature stars and moons that seemed to hum faintly.
His knees locked.
Scents rammed into the back of his throat—smoke, honey, something metallic.
The cobblestones under his sneakers seemed to pulse, as if the street itself inhaled.
And yet… he understood them.
All of them.
Even the ones that weren't remotely human.
Location: Astral Spirit Night Market – Twilight Dusk
The place breathed like a living dream. Shadows twisted into unfamiliar forms, shifting and stretching as if they had their own will. A boy with silver fox ears darted past, his tail swaying with each hurried step, ears flicking nervously at every sound. Laughter chimed as a pair of winged children chased each other overhead. A woman with scales glimmering faintly at her throat leaned over a stall, haggling with a vendor who had the long fingers of a spider.
Akira froze. His eyes flicked from face to face, trying to anchor himself in something human. There—an elder with antler-like growths curling from his temples, robes glimmering with drifting motes of light. A frog-eyed merchant stacked lacquered bowls. A man with slitted pupils adjusted a rack of incense coils, each ember burning with colors too deep for words.
The air thickened with scents—roasting skewers of meat glazed in honeyed spice, broth simmering with herbs sharp enough to sting the nose, fruits that gleamed as if carved from gemstones. Sweetness, salt, smoke, and something wild braided together until Akira almost swayed under it.
His gaze caught on objects that should not exist. A tiny brass cage holding a flame that flickered in time with a heartbeat. A fan painted with clouds that slowly drifted across its surface. A mask that whispered faintly in a tongue he half-understood the longer he stared.
"Fresh soul lanterns! Light your way home, or to places forgotten!" a voice cried.
"Charms woven from comet tails—don't miss your chance!" another called.
Even the market itself seemed to lean toward him. A gnarled tree stretched its branches overhead, leaves rustling though there was no wind. For a breath, Akira swore it whispered his name. He flinched, but the sound dissolved into the general murmur, leaving only the eerie certainty that it hadn't been his imagination.
Above, a paper kite swooped between the lanterns, its painted eyes glinting like a living thing. When it dipped low, its mouth opened, releasing a soft sigh that was somehow words:
Welcome! Outsider!
Akira's skin prickled. His mind scrabbled for logic, but every sensation pressed down with the weight of reality. He touched his cheek, his bag strap, the worn strap of his watch. All solid. This wasn't a dream he could simply wake from.
He forced his legs to move, weaving deeper between the stalls. Everywhere, eyes followed—curious, unblinking, not quite human. Some looked amused, others hungry. He tugged his jacket tighter around himself, as if fabric could hide him.
He passed another row of stalls, where the glow of lanterns gave way to the hiss of boiling broth. Steam billowed from a cauldron, the air thick with the scent of soy and something stranger—sweetness edged with iron. A broad man with a boar's head leaned over the pot, dressed in a bloodstained apron like a butcher, his heavy hands moving with surprising precision as he stirred the thick noodles. Beside him, a girl with delicate moth wings fanned the rising vapor toward passersby, her powdery scales catching the lanternlight like frost. Coiled noodles writhed briefly in the ladle before going limp in the bowls he served. Customers slurped eagerly, though Akira could swear the strands squirmed still between their chopsticks.
Akira hesitated, heart hammering. "Excuse me… um, could you—could you tell me how to get out of this market?" he asked politely, nodding toward the moth-winged girl.
Her wings fluttered slightly, stirring the steam around her. She studied him carefully, her golden-brown eyes sharp but calm. "Follow the alley with the violet lantern path. There's a small vintage item and armory shop there with a faded butterfly logo signboard—its owner knows these streets well. You should be able to find your way from there… if the path allows."
Akira's mouth went dry, but he managed a stiff nod before turning away. The crowd pressed around him, voices rising, colors bleeding together. The market thrummed, alive with secrets and invitations. Each step forward was like stepping deeper into someone else's dream.
And still, a part of him wondered—what if this wasn't just an accident? What if something had pulled him here?
Location: Astral Spirit Night Market (星霊夜市) – Night
A sudden gust of wind tore through the crowded market street, rattling lanterns and sending paper charms fluttering like startled birds. Vendor stalls lurched, spilling trays of glowing fruits and steaming bowls of noodles onto the cobblestones. Spirits and humanlike creatures alike scattered with startled cries, their whispered chatter drowned by the chaos. The air thickened, heavy with something ancient and restless, carrying the metallic tang of fear beneath the heady incense and roasting chestnuts.
Then—a flash.
A streak of silver-blue light tore across the night sky, brighter than any lantern, sharper than any shadow. It cut through the chaos, leaving a trail of shimmering sparks that hung in the air like frozen stardust.
She fell.
Like a star plummeting from the heavens, crashing through the velvet sky of the market.
Akira's breath caught, his chest tightening with a mix of awe and fear. The people around him instinctively stepped aside, parting as if drawn by some invisible force. Normally, strangers would just push past each other, but something about her presence made him freeze—both terrified and mesmerized.
She was… stunning.
Long, flowing hair spilled down her back in a shimmering waterfall of aqua-turquoise streaked with silver-blue, damp from exertion and catching the lantern light like molten glass. His eyes traced the way those strands swayed, glittering as if they had stolen the glow of the moon.
Her kimono was a contradiction—shrine maiden purity tangled with regal extravagance, now torn, soaked, and stained. Pale aqua fabric clung to her curves in treacherous ways, the silver wave patterns still faintly glimmering despite fraying edges. One side of the neckline had slipped dangerously low, revealing the soft slope of her shoulder streaked with drying blood.
Akira's brain sent up red warning flags—
Don't stare. Don't stare. For the love of all things holy, do NOT stare.
He stared anyway. Just a second. Maybe two. Okay—three.
Her hakama skirt was short and ripped to mid-thigh, revealing long, toned legs marked with shallow cuts. And despite her injuries, she moved like a dancer refusing to fall, each shaky step somehow… graceful.
Then—her eyes.
Sapphire-blue, luminous, and locked onto him with such desperate intensity it felt like they reached in and grabbed his soul.
Akira's heart stuttered.
Oh no… She's looking right at me—no, THROUGH me—wait, why me?! There are literally twenty other people here!
She stumbled forward, a thin ribbon of blood slipping down her arm, soaking her sleeve.
"Please… help me…" Her voice trembled, carrying that strange mix of vulnerability and command that somehow overrode his survival instincts.
Before he could answer, she lunged—
—and gripped him. Hard. Her hands curled into his shirt with surprising strength, clinging like a drowning girl to driftwood.
Waitwaitwait—hugging? Is this hugging? No, this is emergency physical contact! Why does it feel like—
Her knees gave out.
They fell together.
Thud!
The cobblestones kissed Akira's back in a way that would definitely bruise later, but his brain was far too preoccupied with the fact that her entire body was now draped across his.
Warm.
Pressing.
Soft.
Dangerously soft.
The wet fabric of her kimono pressed against him, clinging in a way that made him aware of every contour it covered. The faint scent of moonflowers—mixed with smoky ash—filled his nose.
Oh no… she smells nice. Why does she smell nice? This is not the time to notice that she smells nice!
Her hair brushed his cheek, cool and damp against his burning skin. Somewhere deep in his brain, a switch labeled dignity tried to flip back on.
"Uh—S-sorry! I didn't—!" he stammered, but the words caught when she shifted slightly… and the loose neckline of her kimono slid even lower.
An extra inch of pale, flawless skin appeared—just enough to make his entire thought process short-circuit.
Abort mission! I repeat—ABORT mission! (Akira self thinking)
For a heartbeat, the market's chaos—the crashing stalls, the shouting, the panicked footsteps—faded. All that remained was her pulse against him, her desperate gaze inches away, and the strange, electric charge threading between them.
The small gem on her necklace glowed suddenly, brightening between them like a living pulse. Light spilled outward, warm and intense, weaving along the space that separated their bodies. Akira's eyes widened as the gem's glow seemed to reach into him, resonating with something deep inside, humming with power he could almost feel in his bones.
And somewhere in the back of his mind:
If I survive this, I am never telling anyone what just happened.
Then—FLASH.
The gem on her necklace erupted in blinding light, surging outward like liquid fire. Strange symbols, lines, and glyphs unfurled before his eyes, glowing and shifting as if alive. They wove together into a lattice of radiant patterns, hovering in the air and wrapping around his vision. Agony and wonder collided in his chest, tingling down his arms to his fingertips, threading a strange, electric awareness through every nerve. The edges of reality seemed to pulse and bend, responding to something deep inside him, marking the beginning of something irreversible.
He staggered, gasping, breath ragged, muscles trembling.
"Wh-what… what is this?!" His voice cracked, raw with panic.
The alien markings shimmered and twisted before his eyes, impossible to ignore.
Then—a sharp, crystalline chime rang inside him, like a bell struck within his very bones.
A translucent panel, tinged blue, flickered into existence before him. Words blazed across its surface—bright, precise, and impossible to look away from.
{{{ SIGILBOUND }}}
[ Title: SIGIL KEEPER Obtained! ]
[!!! MISSION INITIATED !!!]
[ Protect the Azure Dragon Princess
Duration: 20:00 minutes
Reward:
- Return portal to Tatsumori Town
- Bonus EXP ]
His breath caught.
"What the—?" The translucent panel refused to vanish, its countdown burning the inside of his eyelids like after-image sparks.
And the countdown began.
=============== End of Chapter 2 ===============