The van rocked gently on the bumpy road, its frame creaking under the load.
Inside, the air felt thick, carrying the smell of oil, antiseptic, and a faint metallic hint that reminded Howard of blood—though he knew none had spilled here yet.
Commander Lucien Vale sat still across from him, his posture perfect, hands resting lightly on the table edge.
Every move, every small shift, seemed planned, careful. Even the pen he held tapped the clipboard in a rhythm that annoyed Howard—a deliberate beat, probing for weakness.
"Mr. Howard," Vale began, voice calm, almost like a chat, but with a sharpness that hit hard, slicing through pretense.
"We ask that you answer every question truthfully. If you don't, the consequences will reach beyond you—to your colleagues, your allies, perhaps even further. You understand the seriousness? The full weight of it?"
Howard sipped his coffee slowly, letting it warm his hands, the soft clink of the cup a small break in the heavy silence.
He met Vale's gaze, holding it a moment longer than necessary, testing the waters.
"I understand," he said evenly, eyes fixed on Vale.
But inside, his mind raced—lie carefully, reveal nothing extra.
Vale's gray eyes, cold and sharp like winter ice, stayed locked on Howard's face, unblinking, dissecting.
He leaned forward slightly, the motion subtle yet invasive, closing the distance without moving much.
"Good. Then let's begin properly. Why were you here? What brought you to the Siesta Solace? Be precise—every detail matters. And more importantly, do you know what you dealt with? Don't generalize; describe it."
Howard set his cup down, the echo louder than he expected, ringing like an accusation in the confined space.
He breathed in, steadying himself, choosing words like steps on thin ice.
"You probably went through my past. You know why I joined LPD so I will skip ahead."
"After a tough month of work, my co-workers and I took a short break. So I decided to search a place for a short vacation."
"I found this hotel—cheap deal, seemed harmless. We came. We enjoyed it. Then in that night… a murder happened. It pulled me in."
Vale's pen paused in the air, ready, his fingers barely touching the page, hovering like a threat.
He tilted his head faintly, eyes narrowing.
"Pulled you in how? As a detective, yes—but why linger? Why not report it and leave? It's seems you investigated on your own. Tell me about the scene. What did you see first? The body? The traces? And this curiosity—did it lead you straight to the creature?"
Howard was suprised at how Vale questions regardless he went on, voice steady, but careful to hide any unease, his pulse quickening under that relentless stare.
"I heard about it from staff whispers, checked it out instinctively. Curiosity pushed me—being a detective, it's habit. The hotel kept going, just with some gossip. Security footage was… unclear, shadows and glitches. I pieced what I could together—blood patterns, odd marks—and stayed alert. But the next day changed things. It ambushed me."
Howard glanced at Vale, seeing the commander's unblinking stare deepen, a small crease at his mouth showing he was analyzing every word, every micro-pause.
"Ambushed? Describe it. The form, the attack—every sensation. You met the creature. Barely survived. How? Luck? Skill? Or something else you're not saying?"
Crazy bastard.
Howard told himself fiercely.
Still, he didn't flinch, though sweat prickled his neck.
The van's hum grew louder, the air heavier, like Vale's look was squeezing the space, turning it into a vice.
"With no choice," Howard continued, voice low but clear, forcing composure, "we fought it. Coordinated, used what we had—weapons, wits. We took it down. It… dissolved, left nothing behind. That's all I can say. No more details I can fully remember."
Vale wrote a few quick lines, the pen's scratch sharp, deliberate, like nails on Howard's nerves.
Then he leaned back, hands together, eyes narrowing further, a faint glint of skepticism. "Dissolved? Interesting choice of word. No residue, no evidence—that sounds convenient. I sense some gaps in your story, Mr. Howard. If I find any lie, you and your friends will learn trust doesn't cover liars. You get the stakes? The real, personal ones?"
Howard's throat felt dry, tighter now, but he nodded once, jaw set.
"I get it. Completely."
Vale stood abruptly, stepping closer, the move smooth, like a shadow sliding on a wall, his shadow looming larger in the dim light.
"Then prove it. Tell me more: what did you see exactly? The eyes? The movements? How did you survive something that kills without trace? Speak carefully—every word is noted, every pause watched, every evasion cataloged. I notice. And I don't forget."
The van seemed to shrink around him, walls pressing in.
Howard felt the weight of Vale's stare bearing down, the engine's faint buzz almost like a heartbeat—his own, racing.
Even the coffee cup felt heavier, a anchor in his trembling hands.
Howard breathed out slowly, gathering his calm, steeling against the pressure.
"As I said," he murmured, eyes meeting Vale's with a small spark of defiance, pushing back just enough, "I don't know what it was—shadowy, fast, unnatural.
"After a bad-luck encounter, I barely escaped that creature. But we couldn't let it roam free. I rallied Ch'en and Hoshiguma, and we all agreed to take it down."
"We faced the creature head-on. I wasn't able to fight alongside Ch'en and Hoshiguma, so I decided to distract it, letting Ch'en deliver a precise strike. How it vanished? No idea."
Howard saw this coming. He burned his old corpse, erased all traces, and prepped a flawless alibi for himself and the two.
A quick talk with Ch'en and Hoshiguma before their interrogation ensured our stories matched perfectly.
Vale's gaze held a moment longer, steady, probing deeper, as if peeling layers.
Then he went back to his clipboard, pen moving again, faster now. The sound was neat, purposeful, accusatory.
"Very well," he said finally, voice dropping colder.
"For now. But remember, Mr. Howard… truth is all that keeps you safe. One mistake, one hidden detail, can ruin everything you've built—and everyone tied to you."
The van rolled on, carrying them through the night, each tap of Vale's pen echoing in Howard's mind, louder, sharper, as if the air inside had turned into a tight, unyielding cage, closing inch by inch.
***
The van's hum had faded long ago, yet the room still buzzed with tension.
A round steel table reflected the dim light from a single overhead bulb. The people gathered there had seen Howard slip from their reach; now they turned to each other, heavy with unspoken questions.
"The stories match," one said, voice short, words cutting like a knife.
"Ch'en's tale lines up with Hoshiguma's exactly. No difference, no doubt. Whatever that man is, they really believe he's what he says."
"She's still Wei Yenwu's niece," a commander muttered, voice low as if the old dragon's shadow might stir even here.
"Whatever she touched, whatever this thing was… it sticks to her now. Can we push more without risking his anger?"
Lucien Vale pressed his fingers together, eyes half-closed like he was studying an unseen game board.
"We must look at Ch'en herself. She's Wei Yenwu's niece. To put her at risk—or mess this up—would hurt more than any blade. It's not just duty; it's family. And Wei… doesn't forgive easily."
Lucien Vale's lips curved, not a smile, but a faint hint of one.
"Wei Yenwu knows what he asks others to face. Don't think him a soft old dragon. If blood must flow for Lungmen, he won't hesitate—even if it's his own kin."
He let that sit before leaning back, voice firming.
"The Twenty-Eight Policies weren't just changes—they were the structured to keep Lungmen alive."
"Two hidden rules were added, kept from the people and regular guards. One talks about the Collapsals in the north. Do you remember the Great Hunt?"
A murmur ran through the room. No one spoke, the memory of that fight carved deep into history: the day mortals killed a god.
"Among those weapons," Vale went on, "they tried a piece of the Collapsal. It failed, of course. Power too big for terrans, ruin too deep to fix. Only when the Emperor took control, breaking Sui into twelve forms, the Twelve Siblings was a solution born."
"And among them fragment, the one that work along the Divine Farmer in Dahuang, Shu stopped the flood, stood guard against the poisoned waters that threatened the cultivation and crops. Without Shu, the northern rivers wouldn't just be dirty—they'd be a dead, black sea. The end of crops."
He let the words hang like dust.
"That's why we can't ignore a Collapsal sign, even if it means questioning Wei Yenwu's family. He'd understand. He has to."
Agreement came, slow but sure.
Then a young officer reported, voice tight with worry. "We've… caught some of those behind it. Their story is the same. The Collapsal wasn't their real goal."
The table shifted, worry sharpening into a shared breath.
"They wanted," the officer pressed, "to do a ritual tied to Leithania. A revival—of something they call an 'echo' of an evil buried under Leithanian music and faith. They used the Collapsal as a cover for their work."
Murmurs grew like a storm. "Impossible." "Leithanian heretics…"
"But the Collapsal left no trace—no crystal, no mark. That doesn't happen."
Vale hit the table once, stopping them.
"Impossible or not, it's here. A Collapsal with no leftover, no scar. And fanatics talking of bringing something back." His eyes narrowed, voice turning to steel. "This isn't just control. This is a hidden war."
When the meeting ended, the others left, boots clicking on smooth stone. But Vale stayed. His eyes lingered on the empty room, though his words showed he wasn't alone.
"Have you heard?"
From the shadows by the pillars, a tremble answered, a voice like a whisper and echo mixed.
"We have heard."
Vale breathed out, like talking to something older than the others who left.
"Then take my apology. I ask your watch to move elsewhere for now—on a new person."
The silence changed. The unseen shook faintly, like smoke from a hidden fire.
"Name the target. We will watch."
"Howard Leyman," Vale said simply.
The shadows rippled, and in a breath, they were gone.
In that moment, Howard—unaware, unprepared—had stepped under the Shadow Guards' eyes.
***
The transport rumbled along the winding roads back to Lungmen, the city's skyline rising like jagged dragon scales against the horizon.
Hoshiguma drove, her massive frame steady at the wheel, while Ch'en dozed fitfully in the back seat, still weakened from the ordeal at Siesta Solace.
I sat beside her, my mind a tangle of regrets and unspoken tensions.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly, breaking the silence that had hung over us like a fog.
"This vacation... it was supposed to be a break. Relaxation, good food, no drama. I ruined it all by dragging us into that mess."
Hoshiguma glanced at me through the rearview mirror, her oni horn casting faint shadows on her face.
She let out a low chuckle, warm but edged with her usual toughness.
"Hey, don't beat yourself up, Howard. No one could've predicted a Collapsal popping up in a beach resort. Or whatever that thing really was. Blame the fanatics, not yourself."
I nodded, but the words didn't fully ease the knot in my chest.
"Still... next time, I'll make sure it's fun. No investigations, no surprises. Just us, unwinding properly."
She grinned faintly, her eyes flicking back to the road.
"Sounds good. I might talk to Swire about it—she knows all the hot spots in Lungmen. Fancy places, hidden gems. Could pull some strings for us."
Her mention of "us" stirred something awkward inside me.
That one-night stand back at the hotel... it had been impulsive, born from the adrenaline of liquors, a tangled mix of comfort and desire between the three of us.
Now, in the sober light of day, it lingered like an unspoken question.
How do we move forward? Is this a bond, or just a fleeting moment?
I struggled to find more words, my throat tightening.
Ch'en shifted in her sleep, mumbling incoherently, and I turned away, pretending to watch the passing scenery.
Relationships in Lungmen were complicated enough with Oripathy threats and LGD duties—adding this layer felt like navigating a minefield.
By the time we reached Lungmen, the sun had dipped low, casting golden hues over the bustling streets.
Hoshiguma helped me get Ch'en out, but she waved off further assistance.
"I've got patrol soon. Take care of her, Howard. And... we'll talk later."
She clapped my shoulder firmly, her touch lingering a second too long, before heading off into the crowd.
Ch'en leaned heavily against me, her dragon tail limp, her breaths shallow. I hoisted her onto my back, her weight familiar yet concerning.
As I carried her toward my apartment in the LPD quarters, I heard her mumble softly—fragments of words like "duty" and "protect," mixed with a faint groan.
"We're here, Ch'en," I murmured, pushing open the door with my elbow.
"Home sweet home. Just rest now."
Inside, the air smelled of stale coffee and case files, a far cry from Siesta's beaches.
I eased her down onto the sofa, her body sinking into the cushions. She stirred slightly, her eyes half-opening, but she didn't protest.
"I'll make some tea," I said gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"Something warm to help you recover. Stay put."
I changed quickly into my comfort clothes—a loose shirt and pants, the kind that didn't remind me of detective work.
In the kitchen, I set the kettle on, selecting her favorite blend from Yan—earthy, with a hint of spice to soothe the lungs.
The water bubbled softly, and I glanced back at her. "It's almost ready. Just a minute more."
When it steeped, I carried the cup over, steam rising like a gentle mist.
She was propped up weakly, her gradient eyes watching me curiously.
I sat beside her, lifting the cup to her lips.
"Here, sip slowly." As she drank, I began a light massage on her shoulders, my fingers kneading the tension from her muscles—careful around her skin, firm where the knots hid from the fight.
She sighed, leaning into it, a rare softness crossing her face.
"Howard... thank you. Again. This... it feels good."
I smiled faintly, continuing the motion.
"It's nothing much. After all, without you, I wouldn't have made it this far. In LPD, or through that nightmare. You and Hoshiguma—you're the reason I'm still standing."
She finished the tea, setting the cup aside with a small clink.
Then, unexpectedly, she reached out and patted my head— a simple gesture, almost sisterly, but it carried warmth.
Her eyes fluttered, exhaustion winning.
She drifted off soon after, her breathing steady.
I fetched a blanket from the closet, draping it over her carefully, tucking the edges so she wouldn't stir.
Finally, I sat in the armchair across from her, sipping my own tea.
The flavor grounded me, but as I gazed at Ch'en—peaceful, vulnerable in sleep—a new emotion stirred deep inside.
Not just gratitude, or the awkward pull from before.
Something warmer, protective, like the first sparks of a deeper bond.
Could this be... affection? Love, even?
I wasn't sure yet, but watching her, I felt ready to find out.