By the time we returned from the pavilion, the whole estate knew something had happened.
Servants whispered. Bells didn't ring. Even the birds avoided the courtyard.
Sanemi leaned against the gate when we walked in, smirking like always. "Didn't take long for trouble to find you two."
Muichiro ignored him and kept walking. "Trouble follows noise."
Sanemi laughed. "Guess that's your way of calling me loud."
"I didn't say it. You did."
I stayed between them, watching their words clash like dull blades. Sanemi's grin was wild; Muichiro's calm was colder than silence.
"Relax, Mist," Sanemi said. "She's tougher than you think."
"I know exactly how tough she is," Muichiro said, and for once, his voice carried heat.
Sanemi blinked, then chuckled. "You're getting possessive. Didn't think fog could burn."
Muichiro didn't reply. He walked off toward the garden. I followed, leaving Sanemi's laughter behind us.
The afternoon was quiet. Muichiro sat by the pond, cleaning his sword. The water reflected the sky, pale and still.
"Are you mad at him?" I asked.
"No." He wiped the blade once more. "He's just loud."
I smiled faintly. "You're always so calm. Doesn't anything get under your skin?"
His eyes lifted to mine. "Some things."
"Like what?"
He paused, considering. "When people risk their lives without thinking. When they don't know their limits. When they don't listen."
I blinked. "So… me?"
He looked away, but the corner of his mouth moved slightly. "You said it, not me."
For a moment, the tension broke. I laughed softly. "You're not as cold as you act."
He leaned back, watching the water again. "I'm twenty-two," he said suddenly. "Too old to act like a kid."
The number caught me off guard. "Twenty-two?"
"Yes." His voice softened. "Old enough to remember things I'd rather forget."
"What kind of things?"
He shook his head. "Later."
The wind moved through the trees, carrying the faint sound of chimes from the west. I froze.
Two bells.
Just like the Archivist warned.
Muichiro stood instantly. His hand went to his sword. "Stay behind me."
The air grew colder, heavy with the smell of ash. Across the courtyard, the shadows stretched—too far, too fast.
From the corner of the roof, a black mark began to crawl, spreading like spilled ink. It formed the same shape I'd seen on my pillow—two circles, a wisteria bloom in the center.
"It's back," I whispered.
Muichiro stepped forward, eyes hard. "No—it's worse."
The shadow moved toward us. It didn't take a shape this time. It was just darkness that wanted to belong somewhere.
Before it reached the pond, a voice shouted—
"Burn it!"
Rengoku appeared out of nowhere, sword blazing. Fire met mist, and the shadow screamed soundlessly before vanishing into smoke.
Silence fell again.
Shinobu hurried over, her eyes sharp. "That mark shouldn't have appeared here."
Sanemi joined them, wiping sweat from his brow. "Whatever it is, it's following her."
Everyone turned toward me.
I stepped back, heart racing. "I didn't—"
"It's not your fault," Muichiro said firmly. He moved closer, standing between me and the others.
Ubuyashiki-sama approached then, calm even as the air still trembled from the heat. His gentle voice cut through the fear like light through fog.
"It has begun," he said softly. "The Archivist's warning is real."
Shinobu bowed her head. "What should we do?"
The Master looked at me, then at Muichiro. His expression didn't change, but his tone deepened. "The pact must be sealed again."
Sanemi frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Ubuyashiki's eyes settled on me. "It means they must marry. Now."
The word hung in the air, heavier than any sword.
"Marry?" I repeated. "Now?"
"Yes," the Master said. "The mark won't stop until the bond is completed. The mist chose him. The pact chose you. You don't have time to hesitate."
Muichiro didn't speak for a moment. His hand tightened around his sword hilt, then slowly relaxed.
"If that's what it takes," he said quietly, "then it'll be done."
Sanemi looked between us, his smirk fading. "You can't be serious."
"This isn't about choice," Ubuyashiki said. "It's about survival."
The courtyard went still. Even the bells stopped ringing.
Muichiro turned toward me. His eyes—soft gray in the light—met mine for a long, wordless moment.
"When?" he asked the Master.
"Tomorrow," Ubuyashiki said. "Before sunset."
That night, the mist around the estate was thicker than ever. The wind didn't move. The bells didn't dare ring.
I sat in my room, staring at the hairpin on the table.
Tomorrow, I would be his bride for real.
Not just by name.
Not just by duty.
Outside, I heard soft footsteps stop by my door.
Muichiro's voice came quietly through the paper screen.
"Try to sleep."
I smiled faintly. "You too."
A pause. Then, softly—
"I don't sleep much."
The mist moved once across the window, then settled, as if agreeing with him.
I touched the hairpin, tracing the wisteria shape with my thumb.
Tomorrow would change everything.