The bell above the grocery store door chimed with a mechanical cheer that felt entirely out of place as Kanae stepped back into the grey reality of the street.

  The air hit her first-cool, damp, and carrying the metallic tang of rain-soaked asphalt. She gripped the small plastic bag in her right hand, the thin film let out a sharp rustle that seemed to scream into the quiet afternoon.

  Calm down, she told herself, her internal voice as sharp as a whetstone. You bought tea. That is all anyone sees. A girl, a bag of tea, and the rain.

  She adjusted the heavy folds of her borrowed robe, the damp fabric brushing against her wrists as she began the trek back. Every footfall was a measured strike against the wet pavement.

  Step. Breath. Step. Breath.

  Her heartbeat remained steady, though it was a victory of sheer will rather than a natural state. Inside the bag, the tea box rested flat against the small, lethal packet of salt. Normal. Ordinary. Harmless. She repeated the words like a mantra as the silhouette of the monastery gates rose through the mist-tall, quiet, and unmoving.

  Once I cross that line... the test begins

  The familiar, heavy silence of the monastery swallowed the city's hum the moment Kanae stepped into the courtyard. The transition was jarring, like stepping into a tomb.

  "Kanae?"

  She turned, her body pivoting with a fluidity that was almost too fast for a common traveler. Sister Sam stood a few paces away, her hands folded at her waist, her eyes etched with a deep, weary hope.

  "You're back,' the nun said, her voice thin. "Did you- did you manage to find it?"

  Kanae pulled the tea box from the bag with surgical slowness. She held it out with both hands. "Is this the one... you wanted?" she asked, her eyes lowered, her posture a rigid display of controlled humility.

  Sister Sam's gaze landed on the box, and a faint ripple of relief crossed her tired features. "Yes... that will work. Thank you, Kanae. Sister Alice... she needs it as soon as possible."

  Kanae's chest tightened. As soon as possible. The infection was accelerating. She swallowed against the dryness in her throat. "I can help. I can make the tea for her?"

  Sister Sam shook her head, a gentle, dismissive smile brushing her lips. "No, there's no need, but... I do appreciate your thoughtfulness. You've done enough already."

  She turned toward the kitchen. Kanae followed, her steps silent as she moved through the sister's shadow.

  Good. Stay close. Observe. Control the variables.

  The kitchen was a sanctuary of copper pots and the scent of bitter herbs. Sister Sam set the box on the counter and began preparing the kettle. Kanae stood a few feet back, her hands folded into her sleeves. She looked relaxed, but every muscle was coiled, a hidden spring ready to snap.

  Don't rush. Don't stare. Just be a guest.

  "She's been unwell since this morning," Sister Sam said, breaking the silence as the water began to hum. "Pale. Sweating. Restless."

  Kanae's heartbeat ticked faster, but the rhythm remained internal. "I see," she replied evenly. "Did she complain of any specific pain?"

  "...No. Just nausea."

  It matches, Kanae thought. The early cellular rejection of the virus. The body fighting the hijack.

  The kettle began to scream. Sister Sam opened the tea box, the dry, earthy aroma filling the room. Kanae watched-not with the intensity of a hunter, but with the casual observation of a helper. She waited for the moment Sister Sam turned her back to reach for a ceramic tray.

  Kanae followed silently as Sam moved toward the kitchen. The sound of her own steps was muted, a ghost-walk against the polished floor. Her eyes flicked across the room, scanning for variables, rehearsing the sleight of hand she had practiced since childhood.

  "Do you... do you need sugar?" Kanae asked, her voice a low vibration in the quiet kitchen.

  Sister Sam's fingers clinked softly against jars as she searched the cabinets. "Ah... yes, that would be helpful. Thank you for reminding me."

  Sister Sam turned back, oblivious. She poured the dark, steeping liquid into the prepared cup and set it on a tray. "There," she murmured. "This should help her."

  Kanae stepped forward, her hand reaching for the tray before Sam could protest. "I can carry it."

  Sister Sam paused, her hand hovering over the porcelain. Her eyes searched Kanae's face, looking for a tremor, a sign of hesitation. She found only a terrifying, preternatural stillness.

  "...Are you sure?"

  "Yes," Kanae said softly. "I'll be careful.”

  After a heartbeat of tension, the nun nodded. "All right."

  She handed over the tray. The porcelain was warm, vibrating slightly with the heat of the brew. Kanae's hands did not shake. They were as steady as the stone walls around them. Together, they began the walk down the long, shadowed hallway.

  Their steps echoed in a syncopated rhythm against the cold stone floor.

  "You're very responsible for your age, Kanae," Sister Sam whispered, her voice softened by the gloom.

  "I was taught to be," Kanae replied, her eyes fixed on the hallway ahead.

  "Sister Alice always seemed so... composed," Sam continued, almost as if talking to herself. "Strong. Unbreakable."

  Kanae's gaze didn't waver. "Yes," she said, her voice a low vibration. Too composed. Too strong for a human in this storm.

  The tea on the tray didn't ripple. Not once.

  Kanae's heartbeat aligned with her footsteps-a perfect, lethal countdown. One step closer. One moment closer. The door to Sister Alice's room loomed in the distance, a dark slab of wood that felt like the entrance to another world.

  Kanae's grip tightened by a fraction of a millimeter.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  A soft knock splintered the silence. "Sister Alice... may we come in?" Sister Sam's voice was a calm anchor, though it carried a fraying edge of hesitation.

  "Enter," a weak, gentle voice replied. The familiar melodic lilt of the Head Sister was there, but it sounded thin, as if the words were being pulled through sand.

  Kanae's grip on the tray didn't falter, but her internal guard spiked to its zenith. She exchanged a swift, silent glance with Sister Sam before crossing the threshold. Every movement was a study in controlled grace-quiet, deliberate, and predatory. Her eyes immediately locked onto the figure seated on the futon: pale, hunched, a faint, dry cough rattling in her chest.

  Kanae's training hummed beneath her skin. She read the room with clinical speed, scanning for the subtle shifts in air pressure and the scent of ozone that accompanied a Kika-shu.

  She placed the tray on the small table with a ghost's touch. "I'm here," she said, her voice a low, measured vibration. "Anything you need... I can help.”

  Sister Sam offered a nod of quiet appreciation for the girl's composure. "Thank you, Kanae. Just... keep her company for a moment. She'll be fine."

  Kanae retreated to the wall, leaning back with her hands clasped behind her. She stood perfectly still, a dark silhouette against the stone. Her gaze did not waver; it was a fixed lens, documenting the faint rise and fall of Alice's chest and the porcelain-white grip she had on the cup.

  Sister Alice lifted the tea, her nostrils flaring as she inhaled the steam. "Thank you... it smells... very nice," she murmured.

  "It should make you feel better," Sister Sam replied gently.

  Alice took a sip. The liquid-the diagnostic trap- disappeared behind her lips. For a heartbeat, the corners of her mouth lifted in a faint, tired smile. "Mmm... yes... it does taste good."

  Kanae's eyes remained fixed, cataloging the minute data points: the way the fingers curled, the twitch of a wrist, the sudden, unnatural flush blooming in the sister's cheeks.

  Then—

  A dry, hacking cough escaped Alice.

  "Are you alright?" Sister Sam asked, concern finally bleeding into her voice.

  The cough persisted, growing in violent intensity. Alice's throat worked visibly, the muscles corded and straining as she doubled over.

  The stone walls of the monastery blurred, dissolving into the sharp, artificial glare of the market.

  In the grocery store, Kanae's hand had lingered on a specific box. "Just one more thing..." she had whispered, masking her nerves with a small, forced laugh. She had bypassed the sweets for the Ume Sho Bancha—a medicinal, fermented tea laden with high concentrations of specific salts. To a human, it was a tonic. To the infected, it was a corrosive reagent.

  Kanae's lips pressed into a thin, hard line. She whispered to the shadows, her voice a mere vibration.

  Focus... observe. If blood appears, she is already turned. If it is only the salt-purge... there is hope.

  Sister Alice coughed again, a violent, lung-racking sound, clutching her hand to her mouth. Kanae leaned slightly forward, her posture perfect, her eyes tracking every droplet of moisture, every frantic movement of the woman's throat. She was looking for the tell-tale crimson of a ruptured Kika-shu vessel.

  The coughing began to slow. The violent rasps faded into shallow, shivering breaths. The deathly pallor of Alice's skin began to recede, replaced by a more natural, healthy warmth. She let out a long, shuddering sigh and wiped her hand across her mouth.

  Kanae's eyes narrowed, scanning the hand. No blood.

  "Are... you feeling alright?" Sister Sam asked, stepping closer to the bed.

  Sister Alice nodded slowly, her eyes clearing. "I... I feel better now. The heaviness... it's lifting. Thank you.”

  Kanae exhaled, a slow, silent release of the air she had been holding. Her expression remained a mask of stone, but her mind was a whirlwind of tactical analysis. Did it work? Was the viral load small enough for the salt to purge? Or is the monster simply better at hiding?

  She remained perfectly still, her hands behind her back, hiding the internal storm. The rain continued to tap against the windowpane-a rhythmic, indifferent witness. Steam curled from the half- empty cup.

  Sister Alice appeared human-fragile and recovering. But the instincts that had kept Kanae alive in the ruins of Hiroshima whispered a final, chilling warning: The virus is patient. The hunter must be more so.

  Every heartbeat counted. Every second was a page in her ledger. The mask had held for now, but the night was only beginning.

  Kanae moved down the corridor like a ghost, her footsteps barely a whisper against the polished wood. Beside her, Sister Sam walked with a lighter tread, but for Kanae, the air had turned to lead. Every sound-the rhythmic drip of rain from the eaves, the faint, rhythmic creak of her own sandals-felt magnified, echoing the frantic speed of her thoughts.

  She didn't cough blood. Not a single drop...But.

  The playback in her mind was a cold, clinical loop: Alice sipping the tea, the sudden, violent onset of the salt-purge, the gasping for air... and then, the terrifyingly normal recovery.

  According to what Sister Rebecca saw-that tea should have acted like lye on an open wound. If she were a demon, there should have been a hemorrhage. Red eyes, ruptured vessels... everything. So why didn't she turn?

  Kanae's lips pressed into a thin, hard line. Her heartbeat was a rapid staccato against her ribs- sharp, relentless, and mocking.

  Sister Sam glanced at her, her brow furrowing with concern. "Kanae... are you alright?" Her voice was a soft probe, sensing the jagged tension coiling within the girl.

  Kanae blinked, forcing a small, hollow laugh that didn't reach her eyes. "Ah... yes. I'm fine," she murmured. The slight tremor in her voice felt like a roar to her own ears.

  Am I... misremembering the symptoms?

  Her eyes flicked down the hallway, her hunter's instinct reflexively scanning every shadow, every corner. She kept her body a statue of stillness while her mind spiraled back into Sister Rebecca's memory-the tea delivery, the door opening to reveal a monster adjusting its own eyes like a broken machine.

  The cold stone of the hallway seemed to bleed into the darkness of Kanae's mind as Sister Rebecca's voice returned, a fragile, broken echo.

  Sister Rebecca's voice echoed in the darkness of Kanae's mind: "I knocked... no one answered... the door opened on its own... she was adjusting her eye... it looked red... like a demon's... I... I was so scared

  Kanae's stomach tightened into a knot. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her dark robe, her knuckles white.

  If she's not a demon... then Sister Rebecca was wrong? A hallucination brought on by exhaustion? No... it's something else. I can feel the friction in the air.

  "Kanae... you seem... tense. Is something troubling you?" Sister Sam's voice was closer now, gentle but probing.

  Kanae forced another small, defensive smile. "No... I'm just thinking about the tea... making sure she's comfortable," she said, the lie tasting like ash.

  Inside, the doubt was a parasite, gnawing at her resolve. I should have seen something. A sign. A slip of the mask. Did I fail the preparation? Was the salt too weak? Or... did Rebecca see a ghost that wasn't there?

  She cast one last look back at the heavy wooden door of Sister Alice's room. The woman inside had set her cup aside, her breathing even and human. There was no trace of the monster Rebecca had described.

  Kanae offered a shallow, stiff bow to both sisters. "I'll leave you now. Take care of yourself," she said.

  Sister Sam lingered, her eyes searching Kanae's face. "Kanae... are you truly alright?"

  "Yes... yes, I'm fine," Kanae lied, trying to convince the only person left who mattered: herself.

  Once inside, Kanae shut the door and leaned her weight against it, exhaling a long, shaky breath. The room was cold, the only sound the insistent tap-tap- tap of rain against the glass. She sank onto the edge of the bed, her hands gripping the mattress until the seams groaned.

  "Did I... do something wrong?" she whispered.

  The silence of the monastery offered no comfort. She replayed the encounter heartbeat by heartbeat: Alice's pale face, the ceramic cup, the violent cough, and then-the horrifying return of the saint. No blood. No red eyes. Nothing.

  If Sister Rebecca was right... if the Kika-shu is real... there should have been a reaction. Was the tea not potent enough? Or have the demons learned to digest the salt?

  She pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to stop the spinning. The doubt was more dangerous than the demon; it was a rot that dulled the blade.

  I need to observe. I need to be sure. I can't let this go... but what if I'm the one who's sick? What if my suspicion is the virus?

  Her gaze flicked to the corner where her katana lay sheathed beneath the bed. The steel was a cold promise, waiting for a command that might never come. She lay back, staring at the ceiling, her mind tracing the patterns of the storm.

  Recap. Red eyes. Lenses. The purge. The recovery.

  Her stomach tightened again. The cycle of overthinking was a labyrinth with no exit.

  "I... need to know," she whispered to the ceiling. "I have to be sure. I can't let this end in a mistake."

  The rain outside continued its relentless rhythm, funeral march for her certainty. Every whispered doubt pressed against her chest like a stone.

  Tomorrow... I'll watch her closer. No second-guessing. No mercy if the mask slips.

  She closed her eyes, her body a coiled wire, her mind still haunted by the image of a saint sipping tea while a monster waited just beneath the skin.

  Night settled over the monastery like a shroud. Kanae sat on the edge of her bed, the small box of Ume Sho Bancha resting in her palms. She turned it over again and again, her thumb tracing the printed label: Lightly salted.

  "...Lightly Salted." she whispered, her voice a ghost in the dark.

  She measured the weight of the box, her jaw tightening. If it was too weak, it wouldn't trigger the purge. If it was enough, there should have been a reaction. But there was nothing.

  A sharp knock shattered her focus.

  With a predator's instinct, she slid the box beneath the mattress in one fluid motion. She smoothed her expression and opened the door to find Sister Sam holding a dry bundle of her own clothes.

  "They're ready," the nun said softly.

  Kanae took the familiar fabric, the weight of her true self finally returning. "Thank you. Good night.”

  As the door clicked shut, she changed quickly, setting the borrowed nun's robe aside. She lay back, staring into the pale moonlight. Sister Rebecca... hallucinating. Fear. Stress. It had to be. Her grip on the blanket loosened as she finally allowed her mind to settle.

  "...I overthought it," she whispered, and for the first time in days, sleep claimed her.

  The Dream:

  It wasn't a voice. It was pressure. Something was behind her, watching, a cold breath brushing the nape of her neck.

  You Idiot.

  You're late.

  It's already inside.

  Kanae's eyes snapped open. She sat up instantly, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm. 4:07 AM. The silence of the monastery was absolute-until a faint, metallic tap sounded from the window.

  She froze. There was no wind tonight.

  Kanae moved like a shadow. She didn't think; she didn't whisper. She followed the sound of a wet, rhythmic crunch echoing through the stone corridors. She slipped between columns, her dark clothes making her invisible as moonlight cut through the high windows.

  The sound stopped.

  Total silence.

  Kanae halted, her heart slamming violently against her ribs. Thump. Thump. Thump. She inhaled slowly, her hand instinctively going to her katana. She turned the corner, blade drawn.

  The hallway was empty.

  "...Hah," she exhaled, her tension breaking for a fraction of a second. Then, her gaze dropped.

  Small, dark droplets stained the floor. Faint. Red.

  "...Blood."

  No doubt remained. Kanae followed the trail, her every sense screaming at the darkness. The drops grew farther apart, then vanished entirely. She scanned the shadows, her blade ready for the killing blow.

  Step. Step.

  Her foot found a slick patch. Her balance shattered.

  She fell hard, her body slamming down the ancient wooden staircase in a chaotic tangle of limbs. Bone and wood collided with a violent crack as she crashed into the stone floor of the entrance hall.

  Pain flared white-hot in her side, but she ignored it, rolling to her feet and raising her blade in a single motion. Moonlight flooded the hall, and the sound returned-loud, clear, and sickening.

  Crunch. Crunch.

  A figure was crouched in the center of the hall, hunched over something on the floor. Eating.

  Kanae didn't speak. She didn't breathe. She stepped back into the deepest shadows, her katana raised in a high guard, her body a statue of lethal intent.

  Watching. Waiting. Ready to end the monster that wore a saint's skin.

  That's the end of Chapter 10! We've officially traded the psychological warfare of a quiet tea party for a literal midnight hunt. While Kanae can brew a chemically precise diagnostic trap and maintain a poker face that would terrify a seasoned gambler, we now know that even a highly trained Kunoichi can lose a fight against a slippery wooden staircase. Apparently, being a lethal shadow warrior doesn't make you immune to the hazards of a dark hallway.

  It was an agonizing battle of wits in Sister Alice's room, but the lack of a monstrous reaction left our hunter spiraling. Between the anticlimax of the "lightly salted" tea and the creeping fear that Sister Rebecca might just be hallucinating, Kanae's iron-clad certainty was finally starting to crack. The doubt was proving to be almost as dangerous as the virus itself.

  In Chapter 11, the second-guessing is officially over. As Kanae picks herself up from the cold stone floor, the absolute silence of the sanctuary is broken by the sickening crunch of something feeding in the shadows. The blood trail is real, the mask has finally been dropped, and the katana is drawn. Is she about to face down the Head Sister, or has another demon been using this monastery as a larder all along?

  If you're enjoying this nerve-wracking tension and Kanae's rare clumsy moment, please consider Following the story and leaving a Rating or Review! Your support is the fuel that keeps the chapters coming as we fight our way up the Rising Stars list!