Ashes. A promise beyond death

Chapter 2- Echoes In The Rain

She didn't remember falling asleep, but the ache in her chest reminded her she hadn't truly rested.

The bus swayed gently through the rain-slicked streets. The window at her side was cold beneath her cheek. Outside, the city blurred behind silver curtains of rain. And yet, it was not the sound of traffic that filled her ears—it was the voices from the dream, distant but sharp, like glass under skin.

"She killed the King and Queen..."

"She murdered her master..."

"Even the Prince of Heaven wasn't spared."

Yu Bin opened her eyes slowly, her breath catching in her throat. That voice... that cruel echo from the past still lingered. Even now, awake, it clung to her heart like a shroud.

"Miss, miss… wake up, miss."

The voice wasn't from the dream.

A kind, wrinkled face smiled down at her. The bus driver. "We've arrived, miss."

She blinked, momentarily lost between memory and reality. "Ah—thank you, sir," she said softly.

The man gave a polite nod. "Take care in the rain."

She grabbed her umbrella and stepped into the downpour, the city wrapped in a mist that blurred every corner, as though the world itself wanted to forget something. But she couldn't. That dream wouldn't let go.

"Love can turn to hate, and hate can be melted by love."

"Not everything white is pure."

The dream's words struck deeper than usual this time. Not because they were strange, but because… they sounded like something she once believed.

She pulled her coat tighter around her, her heels splashing through puddles as she made her way toward the precinct. The rain didn't bother her. What unsettled her was the weight in her chest, that persistent whisper: you've forgotten something important.

She'd had the dreams before—always vague, always fading upon waking. As a child, her parents worried. They took her to doctors, even a therapist once. The verdict was always the same: vivid imagination, nothing more. But Yu Bin knew better. These dreams didn't feel imagined. They felt remembered.

And now, they were coming back.

Maybe the case had triggered them. Or maybe… maybe something deeper was surfacing.

She stepped into the precinct, dripping and quiet, nodding to a few familiar faces before heading straight to her desk. The warmth of the room did nothing to thaw the chill within.

Yu Bin pulled out the file and opened it, spreading out the documents. The husband had died from blunt force trauma—his neck fractured, skull cracked at the base. It looked like a fall down the stairs. But the wife confessed.

That's what troubled her.

The woman—frail, bruised, barely able to lift a suitcase—had claimed she pushed him. Claimed she did it during an argument. Claimed she lost control.

But nothing about it made sense.

Why confess if she didn't do it?

Unless she was hiding something.

Or someone.

Their son...? Yu Bin tapped her pen against her lips. He moved out months ago after a reported domestic dispute. Neighbors said the fights were constant. And the father—he was no saint. Known for his temper. A drinker. Violent.

So why lie?

To protect the boy?

Her eyes moved over the timeline again. Something didn't add up. According to the wife's statement, her husband had come home early, they argued, and she pushed him. But he wasn't scheduled to return home until late that night. And how could someone so fragile push a man that size hard enough to break his neck?

She turned toward the rain-smeared window, her reflection fractured by raindrops.

Master, where are you when I need you most…?

But the master from her dream was long gone, if she ever existed at all.

A soft knock on her door broke the silence.

"Detective," said Mr. Moon, stepping in. "I've got something."

Yu Bin straightened. "What is it?"

He set down a folder. "We found a crashed car near the victim's home. Thought it was unrelated at first—it didn't block anything, no damage to the property. But I checked again today. The car hasn't moved in three days."

Her brow lifted. "Go on."

"It had a dashcam."

Yu Bin's breath stilled. "And?"

"We pulled the footage." His voice lowered. "Someone ran from the house, right around the time of death."

Her pulse quickened. "Was it the son?"

"Too blurry to say. Hooded figure, thin build. But the time stamp matches. We've got part of the incident on video."

She stood immediately. "That changes everything."

Mr. Moon nodded. "Want me to prep it for the DA?"

"Yes. And…" She hesitated, then added, "I want to speak to Xian Chen. Now."

"Already on it," Moon said, and slipped out.

Yu Bin's hands curled into fists. If the son was there, and the wife was covering for him… then maybe the dream wasn't entirely off. Pain births resentment. Resentment drives action. And sometimes… love chooses to lie.

But truth always leaves a trail.

The door opened again. This time, it was Xian Chen, soaked from the rain, his coat slung over one shoulder.

"You wanted to see me, boss?"

"You took long enough," she replied, but her voice was softer than expected. "Did you interview the neighbors?"

"All of them." He flopped into the chair opposite her, dripping water onto the carpet.

"Anything?"

"Plenty." His boyish grin faded. "No one liked the victim. Everyone adored the wife. Even the kids on the street. Apparently, the guy was a monster—beat his wife, beat the kid. People heard it. Saw the bruises."

Yu Bin folded her arms. "And?"

"Some said they were surprised she lasted this long."

He glanced at her, then hesitated.

"She might've killed him. But I wouldn't blame her if she did."

Yu Bin's voice turned sharp. "We're officers, Xian Chen. We don't get to decide who deserves what."

"I know, I know," he said, holding up his hands. "But it's hard not to feel something when you hear the stories."

"That's exactly why we rely on facts," she replied. "Emotions are deceptive. And justice is blind—because it has to be."

She paused, then whispered more to herself than him:

"…But something about this still feels off. The victim wasn't supposed to be home."

Xian Chen sat up straighter. "What are you thinking?"

She paced the room, her boots echoing on the tile. "What if the son went home, thinking his father wasn't there? What if he found his mother hurt again? What if he snapped?"

He leaned back. "And pushed the guy?"

"Exactly." Her eyes flashed. "Not murder. A reaction. An accident, maybe. But real."

"That'd make the confession a lie," he muttered.

"A sacrifice," she corrected. "She protected him. Took the fall. Because that's what love does when it's been burned too many times."

Silence stretched between them.

Finally, Xian Chen stood. "What now?"

"Now we make him talk."

Another knock came—Mr. Moon again.

"The wife?" Yu Bin asked.

"She's still holding her story. But if we get the son to confess, she might break."

Yu Bin exhaled slowly. "Let's not waste time. You and Moon visit the mother. I'll find the boy."

She reached for her umbrella again.

Outside, the rain hadn't stopped.

But neither had she.