The rain hadn't let up since Ren stepped foot outside. It struck the streets in relentless sheets, blurring edges, silencing all sounds. Every step on the cobblestones sent wet splashes up his boots, and the water clung to him, soaking through the sleeves of his shirt and plastering his gray hair to his forehead. A constant shiver lived in his spine in this place.
"Eva…" He muttered, almost without thinking. "Where…where are you?"
Ren's boots splashed in a shallow puddle. Somewhere further down the street, a door slammed shut. Somewhere else, a faint sob. Not a word, just sound of the saddened.
He kept searching.
Left? Right? Forward? Each corner of this city was caressed by ink and rain alike.
Ahead, abnormal movement caught his eye. A man stumbled across the street, hunched, dragging one foot behind as his suitcase fell from his hold.
Ren called out.
"Hey! Are you alright, sir?"
The figure stopped. Then it swayed, pitched forward—and collapsed, face-first, into a shallow puddle. Black veins crept up under his skin where arms had hit the stone, the lines pulsing, like ink veins visible beneath translucent flesh.
He ran forward, crouching beside the collapsed person, but hesitated to touch them. The veins writhed like something alive under the skin, pulsing in time with the faint hiss of rain striking the puddle. Ren crouched beside but stopped short. He didn't dare touch the man.
"Something must be controlling them." He muttered, saddened by the poor man's fate.
From the alley to his right came a new sound: a wet, gurgling, animalistic screech. Ren's head snapped toward it. He crept toward the narrowing walls, the rain pouring down on his shoulders. The stone was slick, the gutters overflowing. A pungent stench hit him—rotting fur and something metallic, sharp, reminding him of Nocstella. The scent made him flinch.
Stepping a little closer, he saw it.
A small black cat slumped on the floor, mouth half-open. Its tail twitched once, then stopped.
Above it stood a plague doctor. Black cloak plastered to a slender frame, wide-brimmed hat dripping rain. The iconic mask: long, white, curved beak, glass lenses over the eyes that reflected the scene at their feet. Their cloak swooshed with the rain's intensity. Ren could see their gloved hands, lifting a syringe from a pouch. The metal gleamed off the raindrops, as the doctor pressed it against their own forearm, plunging it deep. Their body jerk violently, like their body was rejecting the cyan liquid they just put into themselves.
The doctor's masked head tilted. Their glass lenses locked onto Ren. For a heartbeat, they stood perfectly still, the rain washing over them, nothing but silence between them. Then, the syringe clattered to the ground. The liquid hissed as it met inked water, small clouds of vapor curling up from it. The doctor twisted their cloak and bolted, moving unnaturally fast, limbs working in a fluid. Within seconds, they had vanished into the alley's twisting depths.
Ren stared ahead, heart hammering.
'A plague doctor…' He muttered, kneeling closer to the cat, which was covered in ink. The pieces clicked together with alarming speed. 'There's a plague on the streets...It must be the ink. Has to be. And it seems to be spreading...'
He stepped back from the cat, processing it all.
'If it spreads like this…If it reaches her…I can't waste anymore time here. I have to move.'
The rain hammered against Ren as he bolted down the street.
'Eva…just where are you?'
A woman's dress fluttered as she stumbled into his path, her arms flailing for balance. Ren tried to reach out and help her, but her legs had given out on her. She fell hard, face-first to the ground. Her body convulsed that instant, black veins pulsing under her skin. Her breathing was short and guttural, punctuated by wet, frantic gurgles. Ren crouched out of instinct, but unsure if he could be of help to her now.
He reached out to comfort the woman, but the ink had already crawled their way up to her face, taking what life was left from her eyes. The woman thrashed once more before slumping completely still.
'I...can't. I'm sorry...'
Ren stood and sprinted off again.
'I'll find you...before the ink does. I won't let it touch you. I will not.'
Then it came—a sound that didn't belong to the storm.
The voice of a young, charismatic man intruded his thoughts.
'What would you be willing to bargain? To know...where the young woman is?'
The sound was sharp, like a dagger stabbing at his brain. Pain shot through his skull, as though the rain itself had turned to flames inside his head. He clutched at his temples.
'You...' Ren struggled to fight the pain off. 'Where's she? What've you done to her?'
'I have done no such harm to the girl...' The voice replied.
Ren dropped to one knee, rain running down his face, mixing with sweat and the tears he hadn't realized were forming. Every blink sent stinging droplets into his eyes, and the voice drilled deeper into his mind.
'What do you want from me?!'
'Everything has a price to be paid. Something in return for another. If you seek knowledge, then I desire knowledge in return...'
'What kind of price? Just tell me...I'll pay whatever you need.'
A low chuckle echoed in his mind, charming and almost mocking.
'Whatever I need?' The voice murmured. 'Bold words for one so fragile. If you are so sure, I can show you…I can let you find her—but first, you must surrender something I deem equal.'