Mercy Written in Blood (The Veiled World #1)

Prologue

Takamori at Night

At night, Takamori belonged to everyone.

The harbour never truly slept. Cargo ships drifted silently into port beneath forests of towering cranes, their lights reflected across black water like broken constellations.

Forklifts hummed between stacked containers while fishermen prepared for another dawn, their laughter carried on the cool sea air.

Further inland, trains slipped through the city with practised precision.

Neon advertisements shimmered across rain-darkened streets, mirrored in puddles between hurried footsteps.

Couples wandered beneath glowing signs in search of late-night ramen; salarymen loosened ties outside crowded izakayas; students lingered beneath convenience store lights, convincing themselves tomorrow's responsibilities could wait another hour. Life moved with quiet certainty.

Above it all stood Takamori University Medical Centre.

Its upper floors blazed with harsh white light that refused to acknowledge the hour.

Ambulances came and went beneath the emergency entrance.

Somewhere inside, a child drew their first breath while, only a few corridors away, another family prepared to say goodbye.

The hospital asked for no permission to remain awake. It simply did.

To the east, beyond the business district, ancient temple roofs overlooked the modern skyline as they had for centuries.

Incense drifted lazily into the evening air.

Bells rang somewhere beyond the trees, their low, measured voices swallowed almost immediately by the sounds of traffic below.

Glass towers reached toward the stars while weathered shrines clung stubbornly to the earth beneath them.

Neither seemed threatened by the other's existence.

High above the streets, penthouses overlooked the glittering city through walls of uninterrupted glass.

Expensive whisky rested beside untouched fireplaces.

Deals worth millions closed with a handshake before their participants disappeared into private lifts, never noticing how empty the rooftops seemed once midnight came.

Below street level, hidden behind unmarked wooden doors tucked into forgotten alleyways, tea houses welcomed their final guests of the evening.

No signs marked their entrances. No menus sat in the windows.

Those who belonged already knew where to find them.

Soft conversations drifted through paper screens while porcelain cups met polished tables with gentle clicks.

Laughter came easily here, though never loudly.

Faces changed. Names changed. The rituals never did.

Elsewhere, patrols crossed paths without acknowledging one another.

A woman in an immaculate business suit paused briefly at a quiet intersection, watching the rooftops before continuing on her way.

A courier cycling through narrow backstreets altered his route for reasons even he could not have explained.

A police officer looked twice at an empty alley before deciding there had never been anyone standing there at all.

The city continued breathing around them.

Most people never noticed. They weren't supposed to.

For centuries, another world had lived alongside their own. It hid not because it feared humanity — but because experience had taught it caution. Some secrets protected those who kept them. Some protected everyone else.

Tonight, however, something long forgotten stirred beneath stone that had not seen daylight in nearly a thousand years.

Not beneath the harbour.

Not beneath the temples.

Not beneath the towers.

But deep below the oldest streets in Takamori, where memory itself had been buried alongside the dead.

The earth shifted.

Only once.

So slight that no instrument recorded it.

So faint that no human ear could have heard it.

Yet somewhere in the darkness, undisturbed dust slipped from ancient timber. A single crack spread silently across a weathered seal.

And after centuries of perfect stillness…

something waited.

Tonight, that changes.