By morning, Kaito realized he hadn't slept.
Not because of noise—the inn was quiet, its walls thick and the bed softer than anything he remembered from Earth—but because his mind refused to let go of the strangeness of it all. The silver sky, the girl in white, the cracked moon. Even now, under the dim amber light of dawn, it didn't feel real.
He sat up, rubbing his face. "So… this is the part where I either freak out or adapt."
The blanket slid off his shoulders, revealing faint blue veins glowing under his skin. They pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat, before fading again. He tried to ignore it.
Downstairs, the inn smelled of roasted herbs and something like coffee, though sharper, almost metallic. A woman with short auburn hair wiped down the counter, humming softly. Her apron was patched, her sleeves rolled, her eyes sharp but not unkind.
"You're up," she said without looking. "Thought you'd sleep till the moon rose again."
Kaito blinked. "I didn't really, uh… know when the moon rises here."
She snorted. "Then you'll learn quick. Name's Mira. You're the stray the guard dropped off last night, yeah?"
"Stray's… one way to put it."
"Good. You've got humor. Means you'll last longer than the last one."
She slid him a bowl of thick porridge that smelled faintly of mint. "Eat. Then work. I need shelves fixed, floor swept, and barrels rolled out back. You'll earn your keep that way."
Kaito hesitated, spoon halfway to his mouth. "You're… trusting me pretty fast."
Mira gave him a dry look. "If you planned to rob me, you'd have done it already. And if you were dangerous, the wards would've burned you the moment you stepped inside."
He paused. "Wards?"
She nodded at the faint sigils etched into the doorway, glowing blue for a moment as sunlight touched them.
Magic.
Real, humming, tangible.
Kaito tried not to stare too hard.
After breakfast, he did as she asked—swept the floor, carried sacks that were definitely heavier than they looked, and nearly dropped a barrel on his foot. It wasn't glamorous, but it grounded him. For a few hours, he wasn't a reincarnated mystery case—just a guy working for breakfast.
When he finished, Mira tossed him a towel and a faint smile. "Not bad. You'll make yourself useful yet."
He leaned against the counter, catching his breath. "So, Mira… what kind of place is Lathen, anyway? Everyone talks about it like it's normal, but nothing here feels normal."
She wiped her hands, eyeing him. "Depends who you ask. To most, Lathen's a border town—half trade, half graveyard. People come here to start over, or to disappear. You fit right in."
"That supposed to be comforting?"
"Take it how you like."
He was about to press for more when the door creaked open.
A boy stepped in—no older than sixteen, with messy blond hair and a cloak too big for him. He carried a satchel of rolled papers, his boots caked in dust.
"Mira! Message from the guild!" he called, dropping the satchel on a stool.
"Morning to you too, Ryn," Mira said. "You're dripping mud again."
"Sorry, sorry." He grinned, then noticed Kaito. "New face?"
Kaito nodded awkwardly. "Uh, yeah. Just arrived."
"From where?"
"Far away."
Ryn blinked, then laughed. "You're not the first to say that. Guess Lathen really is the town of lost people."
Something in his tone made Kaito glance up. "Lost?"
Ryn shrugged. "People who forget where they came from. Or people who don't want to remember. Either way, they end up here."
That quiet hum returned in Kaito's chest—the one that always came before something important.
After Ryn left, Kaito found himself wandering outside.
Lathen was small but alive—vendors shouting near the square, kids chasing each other around glowing lanterns, smiths hammering at strange, pale metals. The air shimmered faintly, alive with unseen threads of magic.
He watched a woman light a lantern with a whisper, no match or spark, just her voice shaping flame. The sight pulled something from him—wonder, and a sting of envy.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Kaito turned. A man in a dark coat leaned against the wall nearby, arms crossed. His hair was silver—not aged, just colorless—and his eyes an unnatural violet. He looked like he'd stepped out of a painting, all sharp edges and stillness.
"Sorry," Kaito said. "Didn't mean to stare."
The man smiled faintly. "Few newcomers make it through a night here. That already makes you interesting."
"Newcomers?"
He nodded. "Lathen's border touches the Veil—between this realm and others. Sometimes, people fall through."
Kaito's pulse quickened. "Like… from another world?"
"Perhaps. Though most don't remember. Memory rarely survives crossing the Veil. The fact that you do makes you rarer than most."
Kaito swallowed. "Who are you?"
"Someone who studies what doesn't belong," the man said. "Call me Aldric."
His gaze flicked briefly to Kaito's hand—the faint blue glow pulsing under his skin. "Tell me, Kaito. Has the light beneath your skin burned yet?"
Kaito froze. "You… know about that?"
Aldric's smile didn't reach his eyes. "It's not just decoration. That mark means the Veil didn't simply let you through—it chose you. For what, I can't say."
"Chosen," Kaito repeated softly. "By the world that killed me."
"Or saved you," Aldric said. "Those two often look the same from the wrong angle."
Before Kaito could respond, Aldric pushed off the wall. "When the moon cracks fully, come find me. The truth doesn't wait for hesitation."
And just like that, he vanished into the crowd.
Kaito stood there, staring after him, trying to slow the rhythm of his pulse.
The cracked moon. The girl's warning. The glowing veins. The town that remembered strangers. None of it fit together—yet all of it pointed toward something he wasn't ready to name.
He headed back to the inn as the sun began to set, the streets growing quieter, the blue mist curling low across the cobblestones. Mira was locking the door when she saw his face.
"Met Aldric, didn't you?" she said, tone flat.
Kaito hesitated. "…Yeah. You know him?"
"Everyone does. He's the kind that asks questions no one wants answered."
She turned the key and glanced at the sky. The moon hung low and fractured, its pieces glowing like open wounds.
"Stay inside tonight," she said quietly. "When the pale moon bleeds, the lost tend to wander again."
He almost laughed it off. Almost.
But when he looked up at that sky—when he saw one of the moon's cracks shimmer and move, like a living thing—he felt that same static hum crawl under his skin.
Something was changing. Something old and patient was watching.
And for the first time since dying, Kaito realized this new life might be less of a second chance… and more of a trial.