The hallway was too bright. It was that aggressive, fluorescent white that tried to hide the fact that people died behind these doors every day.

Anyway. He didn't make it.

The doctor came out five minutes later. He didn't have to say anything. I could tell by the way he took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The clinical, tired tilt of his head said it all.

"Time of death, 2:42 AM," the doctor said.

Seraphina bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the linoleum floor. I lowered my head, my hand still curled around the syringe in my pocket. It felt heavy. Like a lead weight trying to pull me through the floor.

The hospital staff tried the emergency contacts. They went through the list, the rhythmic clicking of the keyboard echoing in the quiet hall. Nobody picked up. Not the old partners. Not the guild contacts. Not the people he’d probably bled for.

Except for one.

Yujin Ryu.

"He had no other family," the nurse whispered, looking at the screen. "No relations. Nothing."

It was a lonely way to go. But then again, that was the life of a ghost.

Roonie arrived an hour later, his black sedan screeching into the ambulance bay. Hana was with him, along with Yujin and Mina. They looked like they’d been hollowed out. Hana’s face was a mask of stone, but her eyes were red.

Yujin signed the papers. His one hand was shaking as he moved the pen across the digital pad. It was a fast, mechanical process. The Association didn't like to keep 'unregistered' bodies around for long.

We took him away.

The funeral was a lonely affair.

We were on the outskirts of the city, near the university where Yujin taught. It was a gray, industrial area where the buildings were low and the sky felt vast and empty. The crematorium was an indoor facility, a plain brick building that smelled of gas and old ash.

There were no flowers. No wreaths from the Association. No "brothers in arms" from the shipyard. It was just us. Six people in black, standing in a small, sterile room while the conveyor belt carried the casket toward the furnace.

The heat from the incinerator hit me as the doors opened. It was a dry, searing heat that felt like a physical weight.

I watched the wood disappear into the orange glow.

Nobody spoke.

After a while, a technician handed Yujin a small, ceramic urn. It was heavy. It was all that was left of the man who wanted to be a king.

"That's it," Hana muttered. Her voice was flat. Empty. "All those years. All that power. And it fits in a jar."

"Let's go," Yujin whispered.

We didn't stay long after that.

We went back to Yujin’s apartment. The small space felt even more cramped with all of us inside. Mina put out a meal—simple, salty stew and some rice—and poured us some drinks. The alcohol was cheap and burned all the way down.

Honestly, nobody was eating. We just sat there, the only sound the clinking of glasses and the low, distant hum of the city.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I pulled it out, the blue light of the screen bright in the dim room.

[Gloria: Traces of the compound you guys brought back in his blood]

I stared at the text. My heart did a slow, heavy thrum.

[Gloria: Dope of some kind. Hmu when you guys are back]

I looked at the urn on the shelf. Then I looked at Seraphina. She was watching me, her eyes tracking the movement of my thumb on the screen.

"Gloria?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said. I slid the phone back into my pocket, the heat of the device lingering against my thigh. "She found something. The stuff in the shipyard. It was in him."

I took a long pull of the bitter drink.

"It wasn't a mutation," I said, my voice cold. "He was dosed. We are one step closer to whatever the truth behind this is."

I looked at Hana. She was staring at her brother, her jaw set.

The funeral was over.

And now, a hunt would start.