The cool, filtering light of a winter morning was the first thing Himari registered. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and expensive lilies—the controlled pulse of an IV syringe pump.
Her head pulsed. She tried to sit up, but her body was sluggish and heavy.
She blinked and finally saw him—Kiro. He was slumped in the armchair, his dark suit rumpled, rigid with exhaustion. Oh my god… am I seeing a horrible dream oh thanks god it was ended ? What the hell—he's the first thing I see ? Why does it feel unreal, like the nightmare hasn't ended hell nah man ?
When she stirred, he instantly snapped awake. His eyes, dark and calculating, fixed on her.
"Easy. Don't move so fast," he murmured, voice rough.
Himari risked a glance at the polished surface of the bedside table. Her eyes reflected back: the unnerving, exposed color of spilled wine. Her heart seized. Her wrist felt strangely light; the illusion was gone. No… is it my real color didn't came my heir oh my bracelet. did i forget it somewhere Stay calm, Himari .did i ask him nah Don't ask. Don't reveal. and at first place where am i .i totally remember last time i was at archives why i even read that book me and my curiosity one day going to bring me in mor trouble
"You're at Shouta's house," Kiro clipped out, maintaining the lie about the Archives. "I'll let them know you're awake."
Before he could reach his phone, the door swung open. DJ burst in, eyes red-rimmed and frantic, followed by Shouta, worry muting his usual extroverted energy, and Dr. Sakamura, calm and professional. Wait—was she standing behind the door this whole time? How did she come in so fast? My head's spinning—I can't keep up. still i didn't expect someone to take care of me here people are goo din Arth ford
"Hima!" DJ rushed to the bedside, grasping her hand with fierce, protective loyalty. "Oh my god, you idiot! I refused to leave. We just napped down the hall!"
Himari stiffened slightly, allowing the embrace. I should smile. I should reassure her. But if I speak too much, I'll lose the what i had to say and what not .Better to let her believe I'm fragile—it keeps the questions away.
Dr. Sakamura gently checked the IV. "Welcome back, Himari. I'm glad your friends insisted on being nearby. You had us quite concerned."
II. The Skillful Lie and Kiro's Desperation
Shouta, though relieved, looked at Kiro, his best friend. "You look like you haven't slept, Kiro. We can take shifts now."
Kiro ignored him, his gaze fixed on Himari.
Dr. Sakamura then turned his focused, professional attention to his patient. His voice was gentle but probing.
"Himari, I must ask a few logistical questions for my report," he began. "It was past 10:00 PM when you were found, and the university closes its main facilities at 8:00 PM. What exactly were you doing in the Archive at that late hour, and how did you end up so far from the main dormitory complex?"
Himari seized the moment, offering her polite, practiced lie. Every word must be soft, forgettable. If I falter, the Archive will surface. I can't let them see the what i had took and read just pretend to be Fragile, forgetful—that's safer than telling truth .if father get to know don't know what he gonna do
"I am truly sorry, Doctor. I feel terribly dizzy still. I must have been very disoriented by the cold—I don't remember anything clearly. I was reading some assigned material and lost track of time. I just want to cooperate."
DJ frowned, tightening her grip on Himari's hand. "So… how did you even get injured?"
Himari forced a weak smile. "I just tried to open the gate, but Mr. Kiro's card declined. And… I have a phobia of the dark. Maybe I fainted and hit a shelf in the Archive." oh my can't they stop digging deeper.
Dr. Sakamura nodded kindly. "That is the right attitude. You are stable, but severely exhausted."
Kiro stepped forward, his eyes burning with a silent, intense urgency only Himari could see. He needed them gone now.
"I need five minutes alone with Himari," Kiro stated, his voice tight and professional. "The Dean requires immediate confirmation that she is stable enough to give a statement before noon. I need to brief her on the official university protocol."
DJ frowned, tightening her grip on Himari's hand. "Alone? Why can't we stay? I'm her friend."
Kiro didn't break his professional facade. "University protocol, DJ. For a high-level security breach, the conversation must be recorded and confidential. It's non-negotiable."
Shouta, though clearly confused by his best friend's cold rigidity, laid a hand on DJ's shoulder. "He's right, DJ. It's Kiro's job. Let's let him get the protocol sorted."
Dr. Sakamura gave Kiro a final, piercing look that acknowledged Kiro's professional need while silently warning against causing more distress. "Five minutes, Kiro. Then she rests." He ushered DJ and Shouta out.
The Archive and The Evidence
The Search and Discovery
Scene: Dormitory Hall to Archive Entrance — Winter Night
Kiro left the rep room after carefully locking everything back into place. The suitcase was hidden, the shelf sealed, the laptop powered down. The wind outside had grown sharper—dry, biting cold scraping against the stone walls of the university.
It was late. Past curfew. The campus was nearly silent.
He walked quickly through the empty corridors, his coat pulled tight, breath visible in the air. The dormitory lights were dimmed to night mode, casting pale blue shadows across the hallway.
As he turned the corner toward his room, he stopped.
DJ was standing outside the door next to his—Himari's room.
She saw him instantly.
Her eyes widened, and she rushed toward him. "Kiro!" Her voice cracked. "Where's Himari? Why isn't she with you?"
She didn't wait for answers. "She didn't come back after the rep meeting. I checked the library, I asked Namise, no one saw her—" Her words tumbled out too fast, her breath hitching between sentences. Her eyes were wide, her face flushed from cold and panic. She looked ready to cry.
Kiro's expression shifted—tension rising in his chest. The suitcase. The sealed shelf. He'd given her the card as a distraction, a way to keep her busy while he handled his own mess. Now his mess was secondary.
"She's not back?" he asked, voice low.
DJ shook her head, her voice trembling. "No. And it's past gate close. She's new here, Kiro. She doesn't know the night protocols. What if she's locked out?"
Kiro raised a hand gently. "I gave her my archive access card. She went to search for books. I had work in the rep room. I just got back."
"I'm coming with you," DJ said.
Kiro hesitated. "DJ, it's late. You don't need to—"
"I'm coming," she repeated, her voice firm now. "She's my friend. If something happened, I'm not staying here."
Kiro didn't argue again.
Scene: Dormitory Gate and The Walk
The wind bit harder as they stepped outside the warmth of the dorm. DJ walked fast, her coat barely shielding her from the cold. Her eyes scanned the path ahead like she expected Himari to appear from the shadows.
Kiro kept pace beside her, silent. He should have just taken her himself. The anxiety was a cold, sharp knot in his throat. He'd given her the archive card as a distraction to keep her safe and busy. Now, his focus was entirely on getting to her, and the weight of that responsibility was heavy.
Shouta and the Dean approached from the opposite side. The Dean's eyes narrowed the moment he saw DJ's panic-stricken face.
She rushed forward. "Dean—Himari hasn't come back. She went to the archive after the rep meeting. I checked everywhere. It's past gate close. She's new here. She doesn't know the protocols—"
The Dean raised a hand gently. "DJ. Slow down."
"She's not answering. She's not back. I'm really worried."
The Dean turned to Kiro. "You gave her your card?"
Kiro nodded. "She wanted to search the archives. I had rep work. I gave Himari access and went back to the rep room. I just got back."
"She's not the type to wander. She's careful," DJ insisted, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "She would've come back."
The Dean's expression darkened. "Go. I'll alert the gate staff."
Shouta stepped forward. "I'm coming too."
Kiro blinked. "You don't have to—"
"I let her go alone," Shouta said, voice low. "I should've said something. I feel like crap."
DJ didn't wait—she was already running past the gate onto the main path. Kiro broke into a jog to catch up. Shouta fell in beside them.
The three of them moved across the wide campus grounds. The wind was a physical force, tearing at their clothes.
"The library closes at midnight," DJ called over her shoulder, her voice thin in the howling air. "The main gate is locked down at one. We have to assume she's either stuck in the archives, or she somehow got out and is locked out."
"The archives have emergency access, even after hours," Kiro said, his eyes fixed on the heavy stone block of the central library building ahead.
"We should split up," Shouta suggested.
"No," Kiro snapped, the word sharp and definitive. They all looked at him. "We stick together. If she's in trouble, we need to know exactly what we find, and when."
They reached the colossal, arching doors of the Central Archive. The doors were sealed, the brass lock plate dark and cold beneath the pale blue security light.
Kiro pulled his spare, emergency key fob from his pocket. The fob flashed red, then green, and the heavy lock clicked open with a low, hydraulic sigh.
They slipped inside.
The Archive was a mausoleum of quiet. Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves lined the halls, vanishing into the darkness above. The air inside was thick with the scent of old paper and dust.
"Himari!" DJ whispered, the sound swallowed immediately by the vast space. "Himari, are you here?"
Kiro didn't call out. He walked straight toward the circulation desk, his gaze dropping instantly to the floor.
And there it was.
Just a single, small, bright red book, lying flat on the grey marble floor, barely a foot from the desk. It wasn't one of the library's official volumes. It was a well-loved, worn-out journal—the kind with a faded fabric cover and a ribbon bookmark.
Kiro recognized it instantly. It was Himari's. He saw the faint silver of her hair near the desk, then realized what he was looking at.
Kiro cradled Himari in his arms, her body limp, her head still bleeding. DJ held her bag tightly, her knuckles white, her face pale with worry.
Shouta glanced at Himari, then at the locked archive doors behind them. "She's freezing," he said, voice tight. "She must've been lying there for hours. We can't wait for the infirmary to open."
DJ looked up. "Then what?"
"I live off-campus," Shouta said. "My dad's a doctor. I can get her help faster."
Kiro nodded. "Lead the way."
They moved quickly toward the side wall—the same hidden passage they'd used earlier. Shouta reached it first, jumped the stone edge with practiced ease, landing on the other side.
Kiro adjusted Himari's weight carefully, lifting her onto his back—her arms limp around his shoulders, her head resting against his neck.
Then he jumped.
The Concealed Truth
Scene: Shouta's Residence and The Evasion
The car rolled into a gated estate—sleek stone walls, manicured hedges, and a private driveway lined with frost-tipped lanterns. Kiro gently laid Himari down on the velvet-lined bed in the guest room.
Shouta returned minutes later with his father, Dr. Sakamura. He carried a sleek medical case, his expression calm but focused.
Dr. Sakamura began examining Himari. Kiro, who was standing closest to the bed, watched his every movement with acute focus. As the doctor finished with the temple and was about to adjust Himari's head, Kiro saw it.
In the moment before the doctor could move her, Kiro saw it: at the base of her neck, partially hidden by her silver hair, was a faint cluster of evidence. A dark fingerprint smudged just below her jawline. Beneath that, a precise, barely visible ritual mark.
It was a sign of a struggle. It was a sign of his mess.
Kiro leaned forward, seemingly to adjust the comforter. With a slight, practiced movement of his hand, he quickly and gently smoothed the silver hair down over the marks, completely concealing the evidence from the doctor's view.
Dr. Sakamura, noticing the blanket adjustment, simply continued his examination of vital signs. He frowned. "Her body's resisting magic. Not unusual after prolonged exposure to cold."
He inserted the IV needle with practiced ease. "I'll set an IV," he concluded, turning to the students. "You three look like you've been through a war. Come. Let her rest. I'll monitor her. I'm not asking. Come with me."
Scene: The Living Room and The Theft
Dr. Sakamura, having finished his medical assessment, gently ushered the students out of the guest room.
Downstairs, in the elegant, fire-warmed living room, he turned to them. "You've all had a frightening night. I need to get to the hospital, but I want you two to rest." He looked at Kiro and DJ. "Shouta will see you settled. Himari is stable." He nodded once to Kiro, then left.
Shouta sighed and gestured toward the couch. "See? Hima's fine. Come on, DJ. You need to sit down. My room's upstairs, Kiro, you can use the guest bath. You both look like ghosts."
DJ stood stiffly near the archway. "I don't want to leave Hima."
Kiro finally spoke, his voice polite but firm. "I should stay here, too."
Shouta frowned. "You just pulled an all-nighter. The doctor said—"
"I know what the doctor said. But I am still the Rep with the temporary archive access key. I need to be here when she wakes up and the university calls. To confirm her statement and to—to explain the unauthorized use of my card." Kiro offered the lamest, most transparently bureaucratic excuse he could think of.
Shouta and DJ exchanged a look. It was a flimsy reason, but they knew Kiro was not going to budge.
"Fine," DJ finally conceded. She walked over and gently touched Kiro's arm. "If Hima wakes up, call me instantly. I'll be downstairs."
Kiro nodded. "I will."
Shouta just shrugged, gave Kiro a questioning look, and led DJ toward the couch.
Kiro returned to the silent guest room. Himari lay pale and still. Ms. Rei, the elderly housekeeper, was seated discreetly in a cushioned chair by the far wall, reading a small e-reader.
Kiro retrieved the chair he had been sitting in earlier and settled back down, positioning his body strategically between the housekeeper and Himari's head, where her bag rested on the side table.
He waited, letting the silence stretch. After several minutes, Ms. Rei's focus returned to her e-reader.
Kiro moved. It was a single, fluid motion—smooth and silent, perfected from years of necessity. His hand darted out and located Himari's satchel. He unzipped it only a crack, enough for his fingers to slip inside, but not enough to make the harsh zzzzip sound audible.
His fingers brushed past a few benign university texts before snagging on the thick, rough binding. He carefully drew out the hidden volume. It was heavy and cold: the forbidden Black Magic book.
He brought the book close to his coat, slipped it inside his inner lining, and immediately smoothed the velvet of his coat flat, blending the weight of the book into his clothes.
The entire maneuver had taken less than ten seconds.
Scene: The Guest Room — Recognition and Final Concealment
Kiro sat motionless in the guest room, the weight of the Black Magic book heavy beneath his coat.
He pushed back his chair and stood, crossing the room to Ms. Rei. His voice was polite, perfectly modulated.
"Ms. Rei," he said quietly. "You've been up all night, and you have to run this entire house. I will monitor her for the next hour. Please, go downstairs and rest. I will call you immediately if there is any change."
Ms. Rei looked up, assessed him, and saw the picture of student responsibility. "Very well, Mr. Kiro. But you must call immediately."
"I promise," Kiro assured her.
Ms. Rei nodded, gathered her things, and quietly left the room, the door clicking softly behind her.
Kiro was finally alone.
He walked swiftly back to the bed. He pulled a fresh, clean cloth and a small bowl of water from the side table.
He gently shifted Himari, supporting her head with one hand. His fingers found the silver hair and carefully parted the strands at the base of her neck.
The sight made his breath freeze in his throat.
Hidden there was the cluster of horrifying signs: the faint, dark fingerprint smudge, a sign of brutal force. Worse was the mark of the ritual: the tiny, perfectly symmetrical incision—the Veil Point—and the slick cut-like line where blood had been drawn. This scar was a signature of the cult.
Kiro felt a cold wave wash over him. This mark was identical to one he had seen years ago. He suddenly remembered the terrified young girl from the cult's underground facility—the one who had helped him, the one he thought he'd left behind forever. He stared at the girl on the bed, at her luminous crimson eyes and unique silver hair. It all clicked into place.
"It's you," he whispered, the name catching in his throat. "You're Himari all along."
He dipped the cloth in water and, with cold, trembling care, gently wiped away the dark fingerprint smudge and the residual blood. He succeeded in erasing the forensic evidence that would have alarmed Dr. Sakamura, leaving only the tiny, magically etched scar concealed by her hair.
The terrifying truth was now a secret only he held