The seventh door throbbed again. Not glowing. Not shaking. Calling. Alex stepped back instinctively— but it didn’t matter. The voice seeped out of the cracks like breath through a keyhole. Soft. Familiar. Wrong. “…A—l—” He froze. Jin’s eyes widened. “That’s not possible.” Mei Lin grabbed Alex’s sleeve. “Alex,” she whispered. “Don’t answer. Don’t speak.” But the door pulsed again. “Ai—ren.” Everything inside Alex stopped. His heart. His breath. His thoughts. Even the Burn paused. Mei Lin’s face drained of color. “…What did she just call you?” Alex’s throat tightened painfully. He whispered back: “That wasn’t my name.” Jin shook his head slowly. “That was your name before Alex.” Mei Lin stared at him, horror blooming in her eyes. “You mean—” “Yes,” Jin said grimly. “She remembers him from the last cycle. And she remembers the name he used when he died.” The seventh door throbbed again—stronger. A deep crack split across the surface. “…Ai-ren… come back…

The seventh door stopped opening. Not because the Host withdrew— but because something else was pushing from the other side. Something colder. Sharper. Wrong. Alex lay trembling on the stone floor, breath shredded, Burn spreading through his chest like golden lightning crawling under his skin. Mei Lin held him, refusing to let go. Jin backed away slowly, eyes fixed on the crack widening in the seventh door. He whispered: “…She’s here.” Mei Lin’s voice shook. “The Host?” Jin shook his head once. “No.” His voice dropped to a whisper: “Her sister.” The Door Split Open Not fully— just enough for a silhouette to slip through. A girl stepped into the chamber. Bare feet. White dress torn at the edges. Hair like ink trailing along the floor. But unlike the Host— her eyes were wrong. Not empty. Hungry. Her gaze skipped right past Mei Lin. Past Jin. Straight to Alex. And Alex— despite the Burn wracking his body— froze. He knew that face. Not from dreams. Not

Alex didn’t wake. Not even when Mei Lin shook him. Not when Jin crouched beside him, frowning. Not even when the Oracle’s light flickered out, leaving the chamber half-dark. But the worst part wasn’t that he was unconscious. It was that— his body was hot. Too hot. Still rising. His skin burned through his shirt like a furnace that refused to shut down. Mei Lin pressed her hand to his cheek— And hissed, jerking back. “He’s boiling.” Jin’s expression hardened. “That’s not normal Burn behavior. Stage Three spikes, sure. But cooling should begin once the connection is severed. His body should be dropping fast.” It wasn’t. If anything, Alex was getting hotter. Mei Lin knelt beside him again, ignoring the pain in her palms. “Alex. Alex—wake up. Wake up.” His eyelids didn’t move. But the Burn did. Golden cracks crawled across his chest, pulsing like a second heartbeat trying to break free. Jin exhaled slowly. “…This is Host contamination,” he said. “Fresh contact. Too

The moment he opened his eyes, the world simply—stopped. Not slowed. Not dimmed. Stopped. Like someone had taken a pair of scissors to reality and cut the scene in half. The ghost screams ceased mid-pitch. Shadows froze mid-crawl, suspended like grotesque insects caught in amber. Even the wind, usually the last stubborn thing in this city, halted as if afraid to disturb what was waking. Quiet Window. The interval in which a Host shifted its attention. Mei Lin felt her breath lock in her throat. Jin’s hand twitched toward a pocket he didn’t dare reach into. Marshal—always rigid, always sure—whispered with a tremor that didn’t belong to him: “…She moved.” Alex’s eyelids lifted fully. The Burn was no longer a glow. It was an illumination—gold spreading through his skin like molten ore searching for a path to his heart. Mei Lin’s hand shot out before she could think. Her fingers wrapped around his wrist. The heat seared her palm. She hissed—but she did not let go. “Al

The whole street stopped moving. No wind. No voices. No monsters. Only Alex. He stood in the center of the broken road, his burned hand glowing like gold under his skin. The light wasn’t wild now. It wasn’t painful. It was calm. Too calm. And the Second Host—the ghost woman wearing a half-formed face—actually stepped back. She was a high-level nightmare, a ruler of the dark. She should never fear a human. But she feared him. Her voice scratched like broken radio static. “You… are wrong… You should not exist…” Alex looked at her, quiet and steady. “Why?” he asked. “You’re scared of me?” The Second Host trembled. Her fog-like body flickered, cracking around the edges. Behind Alex, Mei Lin held the bronze bell so tight her fingers turned white. She didn’t dare make a sound. Marshal froze with his hand on his gun. Even Jin’s usual smile disappeared. The Second Host whispered: “You’re not a Vessel. You’re… an error.” Alex slowly lifted his hand. Golden cracks craw