Page 31 of Mercy Written in Blood

Haruki put on his coat.

"To me it is."

Reina's expression softened.

"You don't have to carry everything just because your name is on the building."

"Yes, I do."

"No. You believe you do."

He checked his phone. No new messages.

"You should go home."

"So should you."

"I have somewhere to be."

"You always do."

For a moment, neither spoke. The office seemed larger after business hours — too clean, too quiet. The chair opposite Haruki's desk remained empty. It usually did. There had always been people around him — advisers, guards, Family members, employees who would answer his call at any hour. He could not remember the last time he had been alone without being surrounded. There was a difference.

Reina watched him long enough that he wondered whether she had guessed where his thoughts had gone. Then she pushed herself away from the door.

"Try not to get cursed."

"I'll make a note."

"And don't touch anything."

"Everyone keeps telling me that."

"Because you look like someone who touches things."

"I'm deeply responsible."

"You climbed onto the shrine roof when you were twelve."

"There was a cat."

"You fell through the tiles."

"The cat survived."

"You broke your arm."

"An acceptable trade."

Reina shook her head and left.

Haruki switched off the office lights. For several seconds, his reflection remained visible in the dark glass — tailored coat, controlled expression, the name Ishida carried in every line of him whether he wanted it to or not. Protector. Boss. Successor. Problem-solver. People brought him disputes because they expected answers. They brought him fear because they trusted him to hold it without showing his own. The weight was not unbearable. That did not make it light.

He turned away from the glass.

The historians arrived at nine minutes past nine. Professor Takeda stepped out first, carrying a hard case of equipment — younger than Haruki expected, perhaps in her early forties, with short hair and sharp, assessing eyes. Dr Endo followed with two document tubes strapped across his back. Dr Kameda carried sealed conservation containers and wore gloves tucked into her belt. Professor Minamoto emerged last: tall, thin and silver-haired, dressed in a dark wool coat that looked older than some of Haruki's employees. His gaze moved across the warehouseyard, taking in exits, cameras and security positions before settling on Haruki. Not a careless man, then.

"Mr Ishida," he said.