City Magistrate's Office — Main Hall
"Rebellion! This is outright rebellion!"
Magistrate Liu burst out of the inner hall, his robes half-fastened, the knot at his collar hanging loose. One sleeve was still crooked, as if he had pulled it on in haste.
Dozens of guards flooded in after him. Arrows were already nocked.
Bowstrings hummed faintly under tension, an uneven chorus betraying how tightly they were being pulled.
"Who are these bandits?" Liu roared, voice cracking as it echoed through the hall. "How dare you seize an official ship! Men—shoot them dead!"
No one moved.
Two massive wooden crates lay in the center of the hall.
Their lids had been torn open.
Red clay spilled across the floor like dried blood, ground into the stone by hurried footsteps.
Bone tokens lay exposed—pale, unmistakable, stacked where tribute goods should have been.
The guards' eyes flickered despite themselves. A few hands trembled on bowstrings. Someone swallowed audibly.
Iris stood beside the crates.
She did not move.
Her posture was straight, her hands relaxed at her sides. She looked neither alarmed nor triumphant—only tired.
Her gaze lifted slowly, calm to the point of indifference.
"Magistrate Liu," she said. Her voice cut cleanly through the noise. "So eager to silence witnesses?"
She tilted her head slightly, as if considering him.
"You won't even look at what you were shipping?"
"I don't need to look!" Magistrate Liu snapped, eyes skidding away from the floor. "Hijacking an official vessel is a capital crime! Shoot—shoot now!"
"I'd like to see who dares."
The voice was not loud.
It didn't need to be.
It fell into the hall like steel striking stone.
Silence followed—not the absence of sound, but the sudden tightening of it. Even the bowstrings seemed to hold their breath.
Prince Chen stepped out of the shadows.
He was no longer dressed as a merchant. The plain robes were gone, replaced by the quiet authority of rank that needed no announcement.
In his hand was a golden command token, heavy and unmistakable, its surface engraved with a coiling four-clawed dragon.
At its center was a single character—Chen.
The torchlight caught the metal.
Reflected gold danced across the hall.
The sword slipped from Magistrate Liu's fingers.
It hit the floor with a dull clang.
"P–Prince Chen…?"
The name seemed to drain the strength from his legs. Liu collapsed to his knees as if the floor had suddenly given way beneath him.
"Your Highness…" His forehead hit the stone. "I didn't know… I truly didn't know you were here…"
"Didn't know?"
Prince Chen walked forward.
His steps were unhurried.
Measured.
His boot came down—hard.
Crack.
A bone token shattered beneath his sole.
The sound was sharp. Final.
Several guards flinched. Someone took a step back without realizing it.
"You abused your authority," Prince Chen said coldly. "Colluded with cultists. Murdered young girls. Transported human remains under the banner of imperial tribute."
Another step.
Another crunch.
Red clay smeared beneath his boot, grinding white fragments into powder.
"Tell me, Lord Liu," he continued, voice even, "how much blood did it take to dye your official hat red?"
Magistrate Liu's entire body shook. His forehead struck the ground again and again, each impact duller than the last.
"Your Highness, please see reason!" he wailed. "I did this for Great Yan! For the nation's fortune!"
His voice cracked completely now.
"There were advisors from the capital—important people! They said this was to suppress floods, to stabilize the realm! I was deceived! I truly didn't know—!"
"For Great Yan?"
Iris bent down.
She picked up a fragment of bone from the floor.
It felt wrong in her fingers. Too light.
She rolled it once between her thumb and forefinger, noting the porous surface, the faint chalky residue it left on her skin.
Under the lantern glow, the bone showed a dull, exhausted white—brittle, depleted.
"Magistrate Liu," she said quietly, holding it up before his eyes, "you should visit the mortuary sometime."
She met his gaze.
Did not blink.
"These girls were in the prime of their lives. Yet their bones are dry. Fragile. Like remains bleached by a hundred years of sun."
Her voice was steady. Clinical.
"As a doctor, I see only one explanation. Severe pathological depletion before death."
She stepped closer.
One step.
"You call that 'national fortune'?" she asked. "This is murder. Organized. Systematic. Predation."
The words settled like a verdict.
Magistrate Liu's face drained of all color.
The lie collapsed.
For a brief moment, his eyes flickered—calculating, desperate. Then something hardened.
He lifted his head.
"Your Highness," he hissed through clenched teeth, "leave a way out for others."
His gaze darted, as if measuring distance, weighing outcomes.
"Those goods were meant for someone in the capital."
His lips curled into something ugly.
"If you touch me… that person will not spare you either."
A breath.
A flash.
Steel sang.
The sword slid back into its sheath.
Magistrate Liu froze.
A thin red line appeared across his neck.
Prince Chen took out a handkerchief and wiped his fingers slowly, methodically, as if removing dust.
"I hate being threatened," he said.
He turned away.
"Drag him out."
A pause.
"Feed him to the dogs."
Outside the City — Riverbank
Fire roared against the night.
The merchant ship burned fiercely, its hull cracking as flames devoured red clay, bone tokens, and every trace of the crime. Heat rolled across the water, warping reflections into broken gold.
Ash rose into the sky, drifting like pale insects before vanishing into darkness.
For a moment, the riverbank was almost peaceful.
Iris stood before the blaze.
On her system panel, a single line glowed faintly:
Mission Progress: 15%.
She didn't feel relieved.
"Is it over?" she asked.
"No."
Prince Chen stood beside her. Firelight carved sharp shadows across his face, outlining the tension in his jaw.
He picked up a half-burned bone fragment from the ground. The carved symbol was warped, but still visible.
He turned it once between his fingers.
"Magistrate Liu was willing to bury his entire family to protect these shipments," he said. "Which means whoever sits behind this wants them badly."
He looked toward the capital, where distant lights glimmered beyond the river.
"Enough to need this many girls."
His fingers closed.
The fragment crumbled.
"I intend to find out what kind of lunatic requires such offerings."
His voice was low. Heavy.
He turned to Iris.
Waiting.
Fear?
Retreat?
She wasn't looking at him.
Her eyes were fixed on empty air—the system panel only she could see.
She wanted none of this.
No throne. No conspiracies. No nation.
She wanted to go home.
The night wind shifted.
Cool.
Then—
A sound.
Soft.
Sharp.
The air tore.
Prince Chen stiffened.
A black-feathered arrow burst from the darkness.
It pierced his left chest.
Clean.
Precise.
"Your Highness—!"
Iris's pupils contracted violently.
Prince Chen did not speak.
His body tilted—
And fell.
Hard.