Later that day, Viola and I returned to our dorm. I grabbed a laptop from the desk drawer and set it on the bed, flipping it open as I settled in beside it. The screen lit up, and I immediately began typing, determined to dig deeper into the recent string of disappearances.
"Hmm? I didn't know you had a laptop, Aria," Viola commented casually as she leaned over to peek at the screen.
"It's actually Irana's… or well, we share it," I replied, tapping through folders. "But she's the one who uses it the most. I rarely touch it."
"Ah, that makes sense. No wonder it looked familiar," Viola said, a faint smile playing on her lips.
I glanced at her. "Familiar how?"
She gave a small shrug. "When it was just me and Irana hanging out, she'd always be on this laptop. Usually playing League match."
I blinked. Irana, playing League? That was… concerning for several reasons.
Viola chuckled lightly.
"Oh, speaking of Irana—didn't she get discharged today? Should we go pick her up?"
I waved my hand. "About that, my old man's handling it."
"You sure that's okay?"
"Yeah," I replied. "Even if we went, it'd be more of a hassle. His car's that tiny Japanese thing—you know, the kind that barely fits two people if no one's carrying bags."
Viola laughed softly, then leaned back and pulled out her phone, distracted with whatever was on her phone. The small talk faded into silence, and I focused back on the laptop.
First, the timeline. The earliest reported disappearance dated back over three months ago. Fourteen people had been officially declared missing. With Syena included, that made fifteen.
I started scanning incident reports, pulling up news articles and forum threads. Patterns began to emerge, slow and subtle.
Each disappearance had a strange, almost unnatural detail attached to it.
One thing stood out immediately: the last known location of each victim. In more than half the cases, the area they were last seen had suffered a fire. Not a normal one either. The reports were vague, but a few witnesses mentioned something odd.
A white fire.
My eyes lingered on that line. Something about it gnawed at the edge of my mind.
This was getting interesting.
Maybe it was arson?
That seemed like the most logical conclusion. It should be. Fires breaking out right where people were last seen? It sounded like the work of a serial arsonist—maybe even someone trying to cover their tracks after a kidnapping. But something still didn't sit right with me.
White fire.
I frowned at the phrase. That wasn't normal. Fire is orange. Red. Sometimes blue if it's hot enough. But white?
What could even produce a white flame?
I typed the words into the search bar, hitting enter. A flood of results popped up—articles, research papers, forum threads full of speculation. Most of it was scientific, technical. Some of it downright bizarre.
White flames, it turned out, were rare. In controlled lab settings, certain metals—like magnesium—could burn white-hot. Explosions involving chemical agents could sometimes cause them, too. But those scenarios were unstable and dangerous, and definitely not something your average arsonist could pull off easily, especially not multiple times across the city without drawing attention.
The deeper I dug, the stranger it got. Some fringe articles even connected white fire to old folklore and myths—accounts of unnatural flames tied to curses, rituals, or supernatural forces.
All this nonsense tying the case to supernatural stuff was making me really frustrated.
White fire being caused by spirits, cursed relics, or some ancient god's wrath? Please.
It was exhausting how quickly things spiraled into some myth. Every time something unexplainable happened, people were so eager to throw logic out the window and let imagination fill the gaps. And now, all that noise was clogging up my research, making it harder to focus on the facts.
Still, I guess that's how these cases always go. The more mysterious they are, the more people scramble to explain them with stories instead of science.
But it did get me thinking…
Maybe getting Iris involved was a bad idea.
"One…cha…unn…"
A soft, barely audible voice slipped into my ear, making my shoulders jolt. I froze for a second, then quickly turned around.
Irana was standing there, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. My eyes widened slightly—when did she get back?
"How long have you been there?" I asked, still caught off guard.
"Just now," she replied, making her way toward the bed with a faint limp. "But you were so glued to that laptop, even when I called out to you a few times, you didn't move an inch."
She sat down carefully on the edge of the bed, her leg still wrapped snugly in that stark white cast, propped up on a pillow. Despite the injury, her gaze was sharp, borderline accusing.
"Well, fancy seeing you here," I said, half-joking, trying to ease the tension in the room.
Irana didn't laugh. Her expression didn't shift. "Yeah… why didn't you come to pick me up?"
Ah. There it was.
I scratched the back of my neck awkwardly. "It would've been a hassle. Dad's car is tiny, you know? Barely fits two people. Besides, you're here now, right? So… it worked out in the end."
She didn't answer right away. Just kept looking at me. Not angry, exactly. But there was something in her eyes—disappointment, maybe. Or just the quiet sting of being left alone when she hoped someone would show up.
"Anyway… why don't you tell me why you were so careless that you ended up falling down the stairs?"
I didn't mean for it to sound accusatory, but it came out sharper than I intended. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye, half expecting a snappy retort.
"Uh… about that…" she trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper.
She didn't look at me. Her gaze dropped to the floor, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the bedsheet. That hesitation said more than words could. Whatever happened, she clearly didn't want to talk about it. Maybe it wasn't just a simple accident after all.
I sighed "Well… if you don't want to talk about it, then fine, I guess. Just be careful next time, okay?"
A short pause passed between us before she murmured, "Okay."
And that was that.
The silence that followed wasn't exactly awkward, but it wasn't comfortable either. Just quiet. Thoughtful.
Ever since we started middle school, Irana had been spending less time with me and hanging out more with Viola—sometimes just the two of them. It wasn't like I was jealous or anything. Honestly, it felt like a relief. Irana had always been clingy when we were younger, sticking to me like a shadow. Back then, I couldn't take a single step without her trailing behind.
So when she finally started giving me some space… I didn't really mind. If anything, I welcomed it. It gave me breathing room. Time to just be by myself.
But now, seeing her there—quiet, distant, and maybe even hiding something. Whatever it is, I'll wait for her to tell me when she's ready to tell me. Forcing her to spill something she's not ready to share never leads anywhere good. Irana's always been the type to speak up when she's ready—pushing her now would only drive her further away.
Just as the silence started to settle in again, Viola's voice cut through the air, light and casual.
"Hey, Aria, Irana… let's hang out at Tsukuru Mall this weekend. I need to buy a new phone—my old one's basically a fossil at this point."
I glanced at her, a little surprised. She had timed that suggestion too perfectly. Maybe she'd sensed the subtle tension in the room and decided to defuse it the best way she knew how: by dragging us outside for something mundane and familiar.
"Fine," I said, letting out a soft breath. "That might actually be fun… right, Irana?"
Irana looked up and gave me a small smile—gentle, but genuine. "Yes… Onee-chan."
It was the usual way she called me, but something about it this time made it feel heavier. Maybe I was reading too much into it.