The blaring of a car horn jolted Amelia from her quiet afternoon. She sat on the couch with a cup of green tea, half-watching a TV drama unfold at low volume. Her eyebrows drew together as she turned her head toward the window.
"Who the heck is making so much noise out there?" she muttered, standing up and moving to the front door. Before she could open it, Ryner came rushing down the stairs, already halfway into his sneakers.
"That's for us!" he called. Shimoya was close behind, calmly tying her shoes. Floating silently above the ground, Rita and Thomas followed them, unnoticed by Amelia.
"A friend of ours," Ryner added, glancing toward the door. "We're going to study over at his place."
Amelia raised a brow, suspicious but not pressing. "Um… okay, just don't stay out too late, alright?"
"Got it," Ryner said quickly, already heading out the door.
The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a hazy orange glow over the street. The black sedan idling at the curb didn't look out of place, but the man in the driver's seat did—leaning against the window with a cigarette in his hand and dark sunglasses covering his eyes. Jack.
Amelia paused at the door, watching them walk toward the car. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she caught a glimpse of Jack through the windshield.
"Wait a second…" she murmured to herself. "Isn't that the guy who came over the other day? What exactly was he here for again...?"
Her memory offered nothing but fragments. Then again, she hadn't been able to remember everything about that strange visit. There had been an odd sensation—like the edge of a dream that slipped away upon waking.
Meanwhile, inside the car, Thomas was already glaring. "Can't believe I'm in this car with that lunatic," he grumbled.
Jack didn't even bother looking at him. "Well then, by all means, you can get out and float your way to my place. I'm not stopping you."
Thomas rolled his eyes but didn't say another word. He wasn't about to give Jack the satisfaction.
Jack smirked and glanced into the rearview mirror at Shimoya. "Seems like you're still harboring feelings over my failed exorcism, ghost boy. You really wanted to leave that badly?"
Thomas crossed his arms, still silent. The car rolled forward smoothly.
Jack turned slightly in his seat. "Anyway. You're looking much better these days, little miss." His tone shifted, oddly sincere. "Looks like it really was the ghost draining your beauty."
Shimoya didn't even blink. "Were you expecting less?"
He chuckled. "To be honest—yes. But I'm glad you're doing well."
She looked away, unwilling to indulge him further. As the car wound through the city toward the edge of town, the group settled into an uneasy silence. Jack's apartment building loomed into view—not run-down, but far from luxurious.
"You know," Thomas muttered as they climbed out of the car, "for someone who calls himself a top exorcist, you sure live like you collect empty soda cans for rent money."
Jack flicked his cigarette onto the ground and snuffed it out with his heel. "At least I've got a life and a body. Can't complain." He glanced at Rita and added casually, "No offense."
"Ah… that's okay," Rita said softly, folding her hands together.
Inside, Jack's apartment was a strange mix of books, incense, and mismatched furniture. Despite the clutter, it was surprisingly clean. The curtains were drawn, giving the living room a dim, hazy glow.
Rita floated forward slightly. "Jack… do you know why Amelia's been acting so strange? She used to ask about me all the time, but lately… nothing. It's like she forgot."
Jack reached into a drawer, pulled out a silver case, and lit another cigarette before answering. "It's because of the talisman I gave her."
Ryner's brow furrowed. "The one that let her see Rita?"
Jack nodded. "When someone uses a talisman like that and has no sense for the supernatural, it opens their mind to spiritual awareness temporarily. But afterward… the mind closes itself off. It's a defense mechanism. The memories aren't gone—but they're fogged over. She still remembers you, Rita… just not the parts of you that don't make sense anymore. So to her, you died five years ago. No memories after that."
"I see…" Ryner said quietly. "Maybe that's for the best. I don't want her getting dragged into all of this."
Rita floated downward, troubled. She hadn't realized her best friend had paid such a price for their moment of connection. A part of her ached—but another part felt relieved.
"All right then," Jack said, exhaling smoke. "Let's get to the reason you're here. Show me what you found."
Ryner reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through the images he'd collected—grainy photos of Rita from strange angles, and finally, the close-up shot of a pendant shaped like a coiled serpent devouring its own tail.
As soon as the image filled the screen, Jack's entire demeanor shifted.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, his voice hard and low.
"Well, it was found in a desk at the local police station," Ryner explained. "It belonged to an officer named Charles Buchanan. He used to go to Martin's Technical High School… the same school Rita attended five years ago. And he knew her. As for how I got this info—there's someone I know on the inside. Someone who wants to solve her murder just as much as we want to get her back into her body. I think they knew her back then too."
Jack narrowed his eyes. "That pendant… I've felt the pressure coming off one exactly like it before. Three times, actually. Every time, it was during an exorcism. Intense ones. All failed—and my clients ended up losing their loved ones. Ones I couldn't save."
"So you think this pendant's connected?" Ryner asked.
"Not just connected," Jack said. "It might be the cause. Possessions. Hauntings. Unnatural separations. This thing carries weight—spiritual weight. Whoever owns it either knows exactly what they're doing or is being used by someone who does."
Ryner leaned forward. "And what about Rita? What does this mean for her?"
Jack looked at the photo of her five years ago—smiling, the pendant resting against her collarbone like it belonged there.
"If that pendant was around her neck," he said slowly, "then it's possible someone was preparing her for something. Maybe testing her. Maybe… grooming her."
Rita flinched.
"You mean—" Ryner swallowed, his throat dry. "You're saying Charles might have been testing her compatibility as a vessel?"
"For the Underworld goddess named Shanda, yes," Jack confirmed. "That's the only connection that makes sense. And if that's the case… then he's more than just some crooked cop. He's a cultist. And I thought all of them were wiped out. Seems I was wrong—someone survived and taught more people. And this—" Jack tapped the photo of the pendant—"is the key we need to get Rita back to normal."
Thomas drifted closer, unusually serious. "So we're dealing with someone who can separate souls from bodies? With a pendant?"
"Exactly," Jack replied. "And if I'm right, the ritual used the pendant as a catalyst. I'll head to the church archives tonight—see if I can dig up any record of that symbol."
He stood and pressed Ryner's phone back into his hand. "For now, don't do anything stupid. Something dangerous is coming to light, and I need time to figure out what it is."
Ryner looked down at the screen. The image of Rita smiling with the pendant around her neck stared back at him.
Above, Rita's form wavered. She stared at the photo, her eyes filling with a strange unease. A heaviness bloomed in her chest—a sinking weight she couldn't name.
"I don't remember this," she whispered. "I don't remember anything about Charley. Or the pendant. Or how I ended up like this."
Ryner stood and gently reached out, his hand passing through her shoulder.
"It's okay," he said. "We'll find out together."
But even as he said it, a chill passed through the room. Something unseen stirred—distant but undeniable. Like the first tremor before a storm.