Chapter 4:

  Old Jiro was tightening the cords of his fishing net as he stood before the cabinet of his gear inside the warehouse. His son, Shinji, stepped in, set the ice box down on the floor, then said hesitantly,

  “Is it really wise to leave the truck above the village? We don’t know who might see what we found…”

  Jiro replied with calm confidence,

  “Don’t worry. The neighbors aren’t that curious.”

  Shinji scoffed,

  “No—but your daughter Rin is, old man.”

  Jiro sighed, but Shinji pressed on, his voice tight with unease,

  “And what about the clan? Won’t they notice something like this?”

  Jiro cut off his son’s fears, drawing a firm line beneath the doubt,

  “No magical energy emanates from the ice. There’s no way for them to track us.”

  At that moment, a voice rang out from behind them. Shinji’s limbs trembled as Jiro dropped the net from his hand, listening to the voice with an unsettling calm.

  “It seems you truly underestimate us, old man… The ice has melted off the package.”

  Shinji staggered back and grabbed an axe leaning nearby.

  “What do you want, you bastard?!”

  The man halted as he stepped into the warehouse—a relatively short man in his thirties, dressed in a light blue kimono. He studied the trembling Shinji for a moment, then shifted his gaze to Jiro and said with cold sharpness,

  Stolen novel; please report.

  “Look how far time has dragged you down, Sword King.”

  Jiro stared at the ground briefly, then smiled—having sensed the presence that now accompanied his daughter. A faint smile, paired with a low murmur:

  “Yes… they’re not from Russia.”

  At last, Jiro looked up at the man and said,

  “Do you know what this package is… Takeshi?”

  Takeshi shrugged indifferently.

  “Well, I don’t ask questions about my assignments.”

  He added with a laugh, gesturing to himself,

  “Perhaps that’s what brought me to my current standing.”

  Then he pointed at Jiro.

  “And what brought you to yours.”

  Jiro stepped back several paces, yet Takeshi never left his sight. He lifted a long sword hanging on the wooden wall behind him and drew it from its sheath, saying,

  “The lies will be exposed—and centuries of your efforts will scatter into nothingness.”

  Takeshi sneered as he readied himself, fists raised in a fighting stance.

  “What? Have you truly renounced us?!”

  Jiro ignored him and roared with a thunderous voice that shook the air,

  “Atakai Rin… will be your end!”

  Takeshi burst into laughter as he lunged forward,

  “KATAKAI, old man! That is your name!”

  ............

  Rin reached the dock, and her eyes fell upon the warehouse. Its wall facing the boats had been shattered, wooden debris scattered across the pier like broken bones. She bolted toward the building, then froze mid-step, struck by a shock so violent it seemed to stop time.

  Her muscles loosened, and she collapsed to the ground as if her body had suddenly lost its weight. Before her lay the bodies of her father and brother in a grotesque confrontation—yet the horror was not only in their death. Their heads had been severed, placed on the ground, staring back at her with wide, unblinking eyes, as if they were still resisting the end.

  Rin couldn’t bring herself to look at their faces. Her stomach wouldn’t allow it. Nausea surged through her, and she began to vomit uncontrollably, her body rejecting the truth.

  Molinder stepped toward the warehouse and bent over the corpses. He stared at them with an empty gaze, then reached out and closed their eyes. He looked toward Sez, who had followed quietly, and said, pointing with his finger:

  “This old man is a sorcerer…”

  He added, in a warmer tone, glancing at Rin as she covered her mouth, trying to stifle her sobs:

  “And most likely… he is her father.”

  The world began to twist her perception. The cottage swayed in strange, unsettling movements. Her eyes went white for a moment, and she collapsed, unconscious.

  Molinder lifted her and said as he exited the warehouse:

  “Carry the bodies, Sez.”