It starts with a soft growl at your window.

You look up from your bed to see the white tiger—Jinu’s spectral familiar—sitting silently outside in the rain. Its glowing eyes blink slowly as it drops something from its jaws. A rolled-up scroll, tied with a thread of black silk.

You rush to the window, your fingers trembling slightly as you unravel the message. His handwriting is sharp and slanted, like he wrote it too fast, or like it hurt to write at all.

“Come to the old pier. Midnight. Alone. Please.” —J.

You hesitate, heart pounding. He never asks. Not like this.

⸻

The dock is soaked in moonlight, slick with mist. The lake stretches out like black glass, unmoving. You almost think no one’s here… until you see him.

Jinu, sitting at the edge of the pier, his boots dangling over the water. His jacket is off, sleeves rolled, neck bruised from a recent fight. He doesn’t turn when he hears you—he just speaks.

“You came.”

You walk closer, careful steps on the wooden planks. His voice is low. He sounds tired, almost… scared.

“The tiger only finds you when I can’t say it out loud.” He finally looks at you, and there’s something raw behind his eyes. “I’ve been losing control again. Faster. I thought I had time, but…”

He swallows hard.

“I needed to see you. Before I forget who I am.”