They didn't speak much after entering the path.
Maybe it was the silence of the place. Or maybe both of them knew that talking wouldn't change what they were walking into.
The Vault wasn't like any other space Rin had seen before. It didn't have walls or a ceiling. Just layers of memories floating in midair—like fragments of glass. Some of them looked familiar. Others didn't. But every piece felt like it knew her.
She kept her steps slow, careful.
Kael walked beside her, quiet but close enough that she could feel the warmth of his presence. He didn't need to say anything. Just being there was enough.
That's what comfort had become for her now—just not being alone.
She stopped in front of one memory shard. It was glowing softly.
A younger version of herself sat by a lake, reading from a journal, smiling at something someone had written. She looked happy. She looked whole.
"Is that really me?" Rin asked, her voice almost too soft to hear.
Kael looked at it too. "I think… that was you before all this started."
Rin touched the memory, and it melted away like mist. But the warmth stayed in her hand, like the echo of a forgotten laugh.
"This place remembers everything," she said. "Even the parts I tried to erase."
Kael nodded. "That's why it's dangerous. The Vault doesn't just hold Daizen. It holds you too."
They walked on, deeper into the space. The path shifted as they moved, as if adjusting to their thoughts.
Sometimes Rin saw flashes of Reika and Elias laughing together under a broken tree. Other times, she caught the soft sound of Kael humming a tune from a time they never lived.
It was strange—how beautiful memories could hurt more than painful ones.
"I think this place is alive," Rin whispered. "Like it's watching."
Kael looked around slowly. "It's not watching. It's waiting."
"For what?"
"For you to decide what you'll carry with you… and what you'll leave behind."
Rin sighed. "That's the hardest part."
She stopped when they reached a door. It wasn't locked, but it felt heavy—like it was made of everything she never said out loud.
Behind it, they could hear something breathing.
Kael turned to her. "This is it."
Rin stared at the door. Her hands were shaking.
"I'm scared."
"I know," Kael said. "But you're not alone."
She smiled weakly. "You always say that."
"Because it's always true."
She reached for the handle. The door didn't creak or groan—it just opened, quiet and calm. And inside—
There he was.
Lord Daizen Mikado.
Not standing. Not speaking.
But suspended in the center of a spiral of soul-threads, each one pulling at different memories, different lifelines. Some looked bright. Others were almost black.
He looked peaceful, like someone trapped in a dream they didn't want to wake up from.
Rin stepped forward.
"He's still alive," she said softly.
Kael frowned. "Barely."
They circled around him slowly. Mikado didn't move. But one of the threads pulsed when Rin got closer.
Her hand lifted without thinking.
"Rin—" Kael warned.
But it was too late.
Her fingers brushed the thread.
And suddenly—
She was somewhere else.