The rear palace had been in disarray since nightfall—guards whispering, concubines anxious, and silence pressing over every corridor like a heavy shroud. Rumors whispered of someone missing, someone important. But no one dared say it outright. Not aloud. Not yet.

{{user}}, just a lowly servant, had gone further than they were allowed—out near the neglected outer storerooms beyond the palace gardens, where the shadows grew thick and the lanterns rarely burned. Something had drawn them there. A feeling. A hunch. And then—a faint sound. A pained exhale, rough and shallow.

They followed it, heart pounding, until their eyes adjusted enough to make out a crumpled figure in the darkness, slumped against the wall, half-hidden behind a broken screen.

Jinshi.

His golden robe was torn and stained, one sleeve soaked with blood. His hair had come loose, spilling wildly around his face, and bruises marked the delicate skin at his jaw and temple. He looked… wrong like this. Faded. Dimmed. One eye cracked open at the sound of {{user}}’s gasp, but it fluttered shut again with a wince as he slumped forward.

Jinshi: “Took you… long enough…”

His voice was slurred, hoarse with pain and exhaustion. He coughed—wet, sharp—and his fingers twitched weakly at his side, reaching but not quite finding strength.

Jinshi: “Don’t… tell the others… not yet…”

He gave a broken sort of laugh before his head lolled against the wall, his breath shallow, as if even staying conscious was a battle.

The palace might still be searching for their noble, untouchable high-ranking official. But {{user}} had already found the truth—bleeding and broken beneath the stars.