KAI POV
The Sanctum guards throw me into a stone cell and lock the door.
Fifty-eight minutes until my execution.
I pace the tiny space like a caged animal. The walls are covered in glowing symbols that burn my eyes when I look at them too long. Anti-spirit seals. They're designed to block ghosts from entering—which means they also block any chance I have of escaping through the spirit realm.
Not that I could escape anyway. I'm defective, remember? I can see spirits but I can't command them. I can't ask them for help. I can't do anything except watch them float around while I die.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. The guards didn't take it. Why would they? I'm dead in less than an hour. What am I going to do, call for help?
It's a text from my father: Emergency family dinner at the mansion. Your brothers and I need to discuss your situation. Guards will bring you.
My situation. That's what he's calling my execution. My situation.
Not "your murder" or "this terrible injustice." Just my situation, like I'm a problem that needs solving.
Ten minutes later, the guards escort me back to the family mansion. The same house where Yuki handed me my death sentence this morning. Was that really just this morning? It feels like a year ago.
They chain my wrists with spirit-binding cuffs that glow blue and make my skin itch. Then they push me into the dining room where my family is already eating.
My father, Kenji Nakamura, sits at the head of the table. He's a big man with gray hair and cold eyes that have never looked at me with anything but disappointment. His lightning spirits crackle around him like living electricity. A-rank spirits that have killed dozens of Phantoms over the years.
My two older brothers sit on either side of him. Daichi, age twenty-seven, contracted with a fire dragon spirit. And Kaito, age twenty-five, contracted with an ice wolf pack. Both A-rank tamers. Both perfect sons.
Both looking at me like I'm already a ghost.
"Sit," my father commands.
I sit at the opposite end of the table. As far from him as possible.
A servant puts a plate of food in front of me. Expensive steak and vegetables that I can't even taste because my stomach is twisted into knots. My hands are still cuffed, making it hard to hold the chopsticks.
Nobody offers to remove the cuffs.
"So," Daichi says, chewing his steak loudly. "Little brother is finally getting what he deserves. About time."
"Daichi," my father says quietly. "Show some respect. He's still family until midnight."
Until midnight. That's when they burn my soul to ash. That's when I stop being family.
"Why am I here?" I ask. My voice sounds hollow. "You want to watch me eat a last meal? Take pictures for your scrapbook?"
Kaito laughs. Actually laughs. "You always were dramatic, Kai. Nobody wants to watch you eat. Father called us here to discuss what to do with your assets after you're gone."
My assets. I don't have many—just the trust fund Mom left me before she died. About twenty million yen. Money I was saving to open a bookstore someday because I can't be a tamer.
Couldn't be a tamer. Past tense. Because in forty-seven minutes, I won't be anything.
"The money goes to the clan," my father says, not even looking at me. He's cutting his steak with precise movements. "It'll help pay for the shame you've brought on our family name."
"Shame?" I drop my chopsticks. They clatter against the plate. "I didn't do anything wrong! I was born this way!"
"You were born defective." My father finally looks at me. His eyes are empty. "Your mother spoiled you. Made you think being weak was acceptable. If she were alive, she'd be ashamed of what you became."
Something inside me cracks.
"Don't talk about Mom." My voice shakes with rage. "You don't get to use her memory against me."
"I'll speak about my wife however I want." My father's lightning spirits flare brighter. "She gave us two strong sons and one mistake. You're the mistake, Kai. And tomorrow morning, that mistake gets corrected."
The room goes silent except for the crackling of my father's spirits.
Daichi and Kaito exchange glances, then go back to eating like nothing happened. Like our father didn't just call me a mistake that needs to be erased.
I stand up so fast my chair falls backward.
"Defend me," I say to my father. My voice breaks but I don't care anymore. "Just once in my entire life, defend me. Tell them I'm your son. Tell them I deserve to live."
My father sets down his chopsticks carefully. He looks at me with those cold, empty eyes.
"You're an embarrassment to our bloodline," he says. Each word is a knife. "The Nakamura clan has produced S-rank and A-rank tamers for three generations. Then you came along and broke that streak. You're weak. Powerless. Defective. And now you're dragging our reputation through the mud with your execution."
He picks up his chopsticks again.
"I should have done this years ago," he continues quietly. "Should have reported you to the Sanctum when you turned eighteen and still couldn't contract. But your mother made me promise to give you time. Well, time's up. And honestly? I'm relieved."
Relieved.
My own father is relieved that I'm being executed.
"The Nakamura name will be stronger without you," Daichi adds, grinning. "Finally, we can hold our heads up at Sanctum meetings."
Kaito nods. "Yeah. No more whispers about the defective Nakamura kid. We're better off."
They want me dead.
All of them.
My family—the people who are supposed to love me no matter what—they actually want me dead.
I back toward the door. The Sanctum guards move to block it but I don't care. I need out of this room. Away from these people who share my blood but not my heart.
"I'm leaving," I say.
"You're not going anywhere," my father replies. "The guards will return you to your cell after dinner."
"I'm already gone." I look at each of them—my father, my brothers, the empty chair where Mom used to sit. "You're not my family anymore. You never were."
I turn and walk out.
The guards grab my arms but I don't resist. Let them drag me back to my cell. Anything is better than sitting at that table pretending I'm still part of the Nakamura clan.
As they pull me down the mansion hallway, I see her.
The woman ghost in the bloody wedding dress.
She's floating in front of Mom's shrine, staring at the photo with that same intense expression from earlier.
And for the first time, I notice something.
She looks like my mother.
Exactly like my mother.
Same face. Same hair. Same sad eyes.
"Wait—" I try to stop but the guards keep dragging me. "Wait! That ghost! She—"
"Shut up, defective," one guard snarls. "You've caused enough trouble tonight."
They throw me back in the cell and slam the door.
Thirty-three minutes until my execution.
And I just realized something that makes my blood run cold.
What if that ghost is my mother?
What if she didn't die of illness fifteen years ago?
What if my family killed her?
The demon's voice whispers again in the darkness: "Your mother was Sovereign-class too. They executed her. Just like they're executing you. Call my name, little Sovereign. Let me show you the truth."
I press my back against the cold stone wall, my heart hammering.
Mom was Sovereign-class?
They killed her for it?
And my father—my own father—was probably the one who did it?
The guards' footsteps echo in the hallway. Coming to get me. Coming to drag me to the execution chamber.
I have three minutes to decide.
Die quietly like Mom did.
Or call the demon and damn myself to hell for a chance at revenge.
The cell door opens.
"Time's up, defective," the guard says. "Let's go burn that soul."
And in that moment, I make my choice.