The gleaming skyscrapers and air-conditioned silence of the Ashen Gryphon felt like a different world by the time we reached the outskirts of the residential district. An hour in the car was enough for the landscape to lose its polish. The glass towers were replaced by rows of weathered concrete blocks and tangled power lines that looked like they were holding the buildings up by sheer stubbornness.

The air out here was heavier. It smelled of frying oil, damp asphalt, and the kind of quiet that only settled in places where people were too tired to make noise.

Hana's brother lived in one of those buildings. It was a five-story walk-up with peeling paint and a stairwell that echoed with every step. I could feel the tension radiating off Hana like a physical heat. She wasn't the lethal Weaponizer right now. She was just a sister who had been missing for three years, standing in front of a door that held everything she’d left behind.

She stood there, her hand hovering inches from the wood, her fingers trembling.

"Hana," I whispered.

She didn't look at me. She took a deep, shuddering breath and reached for the doorbell. Before her finger could touch it, I reached out and caught Seraphina’s elbow. Seraphina was still buried under her wide-brimmed hat and oversized glasses, looking like a high-end fugitive.

"Let’s give her a second," I said, pulling Seraphina a few steps down the hallway into the shadows of a recessed doorway.

The bell rang. It was a sharp, shrill sound that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards. Hana didn't notice us pull back. Her entire world was currently narrowed down to the sound of footsteps approaching from the other side.

The door creaked open.

"Yes?"

A woman stood there. She looked to be in her late twenties, with soft features and hair tied back in a messy bun. She looked tired, but there was a gentle, warm quality to her gaze.

She stared at Hana for a heartbeat. Then, she let out a sharp, choked gasp. Her hands went to her mouth, her eyes widening until they were dinner plates.

Hana froze. She didn't recognize her. Three years was a lifetime in this city, and people changed. But the woman knew exactly who she was looking at.

"Yujin!" the woman shouted, her voice cracking as she turned her head back into the apartment. "Yujin, come out! Quickly! Your sister... Hana is back!"

The sound of something heavy hitting the floor echoed from inside. Then came the footsteps. They were loud and frantic, a rhythmic thumping that grew closer until a man appeared in the doorway behind the woman.

He was older than Hana, with a sharp jawline and eyes that mirrored hers, though they were clouded with shock.

"Hana!?"

His voice was a raw, jagged scream of disbelief. It really was her. He didn't wait for a greeting or an explanation. He surged forward, his boots heavy on the floor, and rushed to wrap her in a hug.

Hana gasped, her eyes fixed on his shoulder. I saw it then. The sleeve of his shirt on the left side was pinned up, tucked neatly against his side.

He didn't have one arm.

Hana’s breath left her in a soft, pained sob as she pulled him in, her fingers digging into his back as if she were trying to make sure he wouldn't vanish into a cloud of smoke. They stood there in the doorway, two halves of a broken family finally clicking back together, while the woman watched with tears streaming down her face.

I stood in the shadows with Seraphina, my heart doing a slow, uncomfortable crawl. My strategist brain was already screaming at me.

"Something is off," I whispered, my voice barely a breath against Seraphina’s shoulder.

Seraphina tilted her head toward me, the brim of her hat brushing my forehead. "What do you mean?"

"His partner," I said. "Marcus... or Francis. Whatever the database says. His best friend was working with Arslan. He was on that ship, Seraphina. And now the brother is here, missing an arm, living in a place that feels a little too quiet. It’s too many coincidences for one afternoon."

Seraphina went still. I could feel the temperature around us drop a fraction of a degree. "You think he's involved?"

"I think we should be on our guard," I said. "Don't let the emotional reunion distract you. This family has secrets that might be more lethal than that shadow monster we fought in the mountains."

Seraphina nodded, her jaw set. We both stepped out of the shadows as the brother, Yujin, finally pulled back from the hug. He wiped his eyes with his one remaining hand and looked toward us.

"Hana..." he said, his voice shaky. "Who are your friends?"

Hana wiped her cheeks and gestured toward us. "They’re with me. They helped me, Yujin. They’re the reason I’m home."

Yujin looked at us, his gaze lingering on Seraphina’s disguise for a second before he gave a weary, grateful nod. "Please. Come in. Any friend of my sister is welcome here."

The apartment was small and smelled of incense and home-cooked stew. The woman, who turned out to be Yujin’s fiancée, Mina, bustled around to get us water while Hana sat on the worn couch. We followed her in, my eyes scanning every corner, every photo on the wall, looking for a crack in the story.

Hana started catching them up. She spoke about the last three years, about the mountains and the shadow that had hunted her, and about how she’d finally been brought back to the city. She sounded different when she spoke to him—less like a Weaponizer and more like a girl trying to find her footing again.

At the center of the room was a small wooden altar. Two photos sat there, framed in black, with small bowls of rice and fruit in front of them. Hana’s parents.

Yujin handed Hana a stick of incense. "For them," he said softly.

We all stood in silence as the thin trail of smoke rose into the air, the scent of sandalwood filling the room. It felt heavy. It felt like a funeral that had been going on for three years and was only just reaching its end.

After the prayers, Mina insisted we sit for a meal. She set the table with mismatched bowls and steaming rice, the atmosphere slowly turning from shocked silence to a quiet, fragile warmth.

But I could see the way Yujin moved. He was stiff. He kept his one hand on the table, his fingers tapping a rhythmic, nervous beat against the wood. He was looking at Hana, but his eyes kept drifting toward the door.

Hana took a bite of the stew, then looked up at him. The question she’d been holding onto finally broke through.

"Yujin," she said, her voice steady. "What happened to Francis? We found his name on a list. His ID was on a ship in the shipyard."

The table went dead silent.

Mina stopped with a ladle in her hand, her gaze dropping to the floor. Yujin froze. He didn't look at Hana. He looked at the empty sleeve of his shirt, his expression darkening into something old and pained.

He took a deep breath, his chest heaving under his thin shirt.

"Francis..." he whispered. "I haven't seen that name in a long time. Not since the day I lost this arm."

He looked at Hana, his eyes full of a dark, jagged sorrow.

"If you really want to know what happened to him... I’m going to have to tell you a very long story."