The afternoon heat of Shikan City had begun to mellow into a dusky, amber haze, but inside the narrow alleyways flanking the market street, the air remained stifling.
kaito allowed yuna to guide him by the sleeve, her grip tight, her knuckles drained of color. she didn't utter a word until they arrived before a weather-worn storefront wedged between two shuttered warehouses. its wooden signboard hung slightly crooked, the carved characters faded beneath decades of sun and rain.
as the brass chime above the door gave a dry, brittle clink, they stepped inside.
the atmosphere changed instantly. the sharp smell of aged cedar, dried ink, and centuries of undisturbed dust clung to the room like a damp cloth. shelves lined with tarnished bronze relics, cracked porcelain wares, and yellowed manuscripts climbed all the way to the low-beamed ceiling. the outside noise of Shikan City died out completely, swallowed by an unnatural, heavy quiet.
behind the narrow wooden counter, an elderly man sat hunched over a cracked porcelain bowl, delicately cleaning its edges with a fraying rag. his spine was curved, his white hair sparse and brittle, his face etched with the deep grooves of living far longer than most.
kaito halted a few paces back, his boots squeaking against the bare wooden floorboards. every instinct screamed at him to run, yet his boots felt nailed to the floor. the face beneath the thin, trembling hands was burned into his memory. it was the same man who had boarded the refugee boat with his grandson amidst the gunfire at the resort. the same man who had pointed trembling fingers toward the open sea before perishing in the black fury of the storm.
kaito stepped forward, his knuckles turning chalky white as he planted his hands on the weathered counter. yuna flanked him, her breathing shallow, her eyes fixed onto the frail silhouette.
"we know who you are," kaito said, his voice dropping into a low rasp that sliced straight through the stagnant air. "tell us about it. the island where time bends... what do you know about Aethelgard?"
the porcelain bowl slipped.
it hit the polished wood with a dull, hollow clatter. the old man's hands remained suspended in mid-air, trembling as if seized by an icy current. slowly, his head tilted back. beneath overgrown white brows, his eyes widened into twin rings of raw horror. he stared at kaito, then at yuna, his breath catching in his throat as though two rotting corpses had dragged themselves out of the ocean and onto his shop floor.
"how... how could children like you possibly know that name?" he breathed, his voice quivering with a terrifying fragility.
yuna didn't offer him a moment to collect his shattered thoughts. she leaned over the counter, the youthful innocence completely gone from her eyes, replaced by a venomous, unyielding intensity.
"speak," she commanded, her tone dropping into a deadly, steady rhythm. "tell us everything you are hiding. because if we fail to tear this future apart, you will die... and your grandson will bleed out on the sand right beside you."
the mention of his grandson landed like a physical blow. the old man flinched, the meager color in his cheeks draining until his skin took on the waxy pallor of parchment. his shoulders caved inwards under the invisible, suffocating weight of an impossible revelation. his lips parted, but for several long seconds, only a thin rattle escaped his throat.
"changing the future isn't a game you can win, little girl," he finally whispered, his gaze darting toward the floor. "...not unless she wills it."
"who?" yuna pressed immediately, her fingers digging so deep into the counter edge that her nails clicked against the wood. "who decides that?"
the old man's eyes darted frantically toward the dusty display windows facing the street, as though he expected unseen phantoms to be peering through the glass. his breath turned ragged. with shaking hands, he reached beneath the counter, retrieved a brittle strip of paper, and dipped a dried reed pen into an inkstone.
he scribbled a series of jagged strokes with desperate haste, folded the paper once, and shoved it roughly into kaito's open palm.
"the street has too many eyes," the old man hissed, his voice trembling. "come to my estate after twilight... i will tell you what you need to hear."
night fell over Shikan City like spilled black ink, swallowing the skyline and drowning the neon glow of the street market in thick, ocean mist.
back at the hotel, the noisy corridors gradually grew quiet as the other guests retired to their rooms. inside their quarters, toru sat on the edge of the twin bed, nervously spinning his phone, while kaito stood near the window, staring at the folded parchment paper tucked between his fingers.
once the grandfather clock in the main lobby struck twelve, kaito gave a silent nod. toru stood up without hesitation, his jaw set, and together with yuna, the three slipped past the front desk, quietly exiting through the hotel's rear service corridor. the cold sea fog hit their faces immediately, dampening their clothes as they took to the deserted pavement.
they did not see the figure lingering in the second-floor alcove.
leaning against the concrete balustrade, half-concealed by the deep shadows, stood aeri. she wore her casual dark attire, her arms crossed over her chest, the neon signs below reflecting a faint, calculating gleam in her obsidian eyes. she watched the three silhouettes move like ghosts through the mist, their hasty strides betraying their tension.
a small, knowing smirk curved the corner of her lips. she pushed herself off the wall, stepping into the darkness without making the faintest sound, trailing their tracks through the quiet city streets.
the address led them far away from the commercial districts, down a narrow, winding road where the streetlights grew sparse before dying out entirely.
at the edge of a barren hillside sat the old man's estate. it was an enormous, sprawling mansion from an older era, constructed of blackened timber and decayed plaster. the structure leaned precariously against the night sky, looking less like a family residence and more like an ancient tomb left to rot amidst overgrown shrubs and tangled ivy.
as their boots crunched across the gravel pathway, the massive double oak doors parted inward without a single creak, revealing a cavernous interior.
the old man stood just inside the threshold, holding a single black candle whose flame flickered erratically in the draft. he did not greet them. he merely turned and shuffled down a long, high-ceilinged corridor, his slippers scraping softly against stone flags.
they followed him into a cavernous reception hall. the room was hollow, devoid of furniture except for a massive, circular wooden table surrounded by four heavy chairs. the single candle was placed squarely in the center of the table, casting long, grotesque shadows that danced up the peeling wallpaper.
the old man pulled out a chair and sat down, his hands resting flat against the scarred grain of the timber. he waited until kaito, yuna, and toru had taken their seats before he raised his head, his cloudy eyes locking onto them with a chilling, solemn gravity.
"every grain of sand that slips through the glass of this universe... moves solely by the design of Chronos," he said, his voice deep and raspy, echoing off the bare walls like a hollow funeral bell.
toru shifted uncomfortably in his seat, glancing at kaito with raised brows.
"Chronos," the old man repeated, his tone dipping into reverent dread. "the primordial god of time. the father of Zeus. an infinite, boundless entity without form, without shape, and without a physical body. he does not think like a mortal; he does not feel sorrow, joy, or rage. he is the river itself. if you two have somehow broken through the barriers of mortality and dragged your souls ten years into the past, you have not merely cheated death... you have stepped directly into the crosshairs of a god."
the room grew colder, the chill seeping through the fabric of their jackets.
"and he does not govern alone," the old man continued, his fingers tapping slowly against the wood. "intertwined with Chronos is Ananke, the primordial embodiment of inevitability and necessity. she is the universal law, the iron force that prevents any fracture in the cosmic timeline. whenever a knot forms, she draws the thread tight until the disruption snaps."
he leaned closer, the yellow flame illuminating the deep contours of his skull-like face.
"the real crisis does not lie with Chronos or Ananke," he said, lowering his voice until it was almost a whisper. "it lies with Ananke's three daughters... the Moirai. the arbiters of destiny."
he held up three fingers.
"the first is Clotho, who spins the thread of mortal existence from the void. the second is Lachesis, who measures each thread, deciding with absolute precision how long a soul is permitted to breathe between birth and oblivion. and the third... is Atropos. the eldest, the smallest, and the most terrible. it is her duty to cut the thread of life with her iron shears, sealing the moment of death."
kaito remembered the horrific imagery in his elevator nightmare—the blood-red eyes, the severed heads, the unnatural feeling of reality crumbling around him.
"mortals build shrines for fortune, for longevity, for harvest," the old man rasped, his gaze turning hollow. "they worship Clotho for birth and plead with Lachesis for more years. but nobody builds shrines for Atropos. no human heart reveres the hand that takes everything away. spurned, forgotten, and denied the worship of the world, her bitterness has festered across the eons."
he leaned back, his knuckles cracking in the silence.
"that is why uneven, unnatural deaths have begun tearing through this timeline. she is no longer waiting for Lachesis to measure the span. she is severing cords out of turn, feeding her spite on stolen lives."
a heavy silence descended on the hall, suffocating and vast.
clatter.
a sharp, sudden noise sliced through the quiet, coming directly from the arched doorway behind them.
toru jumped, spinning around in his chair so fast it screeched against the floorboards. kaito and yuna rose to their feet instinctively, their muscles tense.
standing at the edge of the hallway, bathed partially in the faint light filtering from the courtyard, was aeri. she stood with her hands tucked casually into her pockets, her head tilted slightly, an unreadable smile playing on her lips. she looked utterly relaxed, untouched by the creeping terror that filled the manor.
"i thought you were all sneaking out to explore the city at night," she said smoothly, her voice carrying an easy, melodic ring as she stepped across the threshold. "so i decided to follow you."
she strolled toward the table, her footsteps rhythmic and steady. she paused beside an empty chair, her eyes shifting from the stone-faced old man to yuna, before finally locking directly onto kaito with a piercing, analytical intensity.
"Chronos... and his daughter, Atropos," she said slowly, savoring the syllables as if tasting an unfamiliar wine. "is all of that real? and if it is... whose uneven death is taking place right now?"
the hall plunged into absolute stillness. toru swallowed hard, his throat dry, while yuna's jaw tightened, her hands balling into fists at her sides. a single slip of the tongue would expose the entire nightmare.
then, kaito let out a breath and chuckled.
the sound was crisp, casual, and completely natural. he slouched slightly, shaking his head with a mock expression of exasperation as he looked at aeri.