Chapter Four The Journal #3
"Worked with them," Takeda said. "Possibly trained with them."
Kameda examined the ink.
"This is one hand throughout."
"How much is there?" Haruki asked.
She studied the thickness of the pages.
"Hundreds of entries."
A human physician documenting vampire patients, working inside a vampire clan, eight centuries ago. Haruki understood enough now to see the shape of the problem. Someone had lied — not about one event, but about an entire history.
"Who buried this?" he asked.
Minamoto's face hardened.
"That is the question people die for."
The words entered the chamber softly. Nobody laughed. They continued — not because fear had lessened, but because stopping would have made it stronger.
Kameda turned pages only after documenting each one.
Takeda read selected sections aloud. Endo compared names and locations to the maps.
The journal was not a diary. It was a working medical record — case after case: a vampire child with a wasting illness, a human woman recovering after a difficult birth, a hunter treated for burns after shielding a stranger from fire, a human merchant whose fractured leg had been reset by a vampire surgeon.
The records made no distinction in the seriousness of care.
Species appeared as relevant medical information. Nothing more.
Haruki listened. The entries were ordinary. That made them more unsettling. No declarations of unity, no grand philosophy — only people being treated because they were sick. A world everyone claimed had been impossible, recorded in the calm handwriting of a doctor who had lived inside it.
Professor Takeda reached another annotation. She stopped reading.
"What is it?" Endo asked.
"Nothing."
Minamoto held out his hand.
"Show me."
She turned the journal slightly. Haruki could not read the original script, but one name had been marked more heavily than the others.
"Takahara," Minamoto said.
The name seemed to affect all three historians. Haruki noticed at once.
"Who is that?"
"The clan name," Takeda said.
"Of the White Lotus?"
"Yes."
"And the person mentioned?"
She read the line.
"Renji."
Something moved behind Minamoto's eyes. Recognition. Fear. Then it was gone.
"Common name?" Haruki asked.
"No," Minamoto said.
Takeda looked at him sharply. He said nothing more. Haruki stored the reaction away.
They had been underground almost three hours. The air had grown stale despite the reduced ventilation, the work lights casting hard shadows across the mural. Everyone spoke more quietly now, exhaustion and concentration stripping away unnecessary words.
A service radio crackled at Haruki's belt. He lifted it.
"Ken?"
Static. Then Ken's voice.
"Boss, you receiving?"
"Yes."
"Everything secure down there?"
"For now."
"Warehouse team says one of the exterior cameras dropped out."
Haruki straightened.
"How long?"
"About forty seconds."
"Which camera?"
"South entrance."
"That is the entrance the historians used."
"I know."
"Cause?"
"Could be wiring."
"You don't believe that."
"No."
Haruki looked towards the breach.
"Lock the warehouse."
"Already done."
"Double the people at every access point."
"On it."
The radio hissed. Then Ken added, "There's something else."
"What?"
"One of the tunnel sensors activated."
"Which sensor?"
"Maintenance corridor six."
Haruki looked at the engineers. One shook his head immediately.
"That corridor is sealed," he said.
Haruki pressed the radio closer.
"Could it be one of ours?"
"No one's assigned there."
"Animal?"
"Too heavy."
The chamber changed. No one moved. Professor Minamoto looked towards the broken wall.
"How far is corridor six?" Haruki asked.
Ken answered after a pause.
"Two hundred metres east."
"Can it connect to this section?"
"Not according to the plans."
Haruki looked at the ancient map hanging behind Endo — the forgotten road beneath the city, the route that should not exist.
"Ken," Haruki said, "do not send anyone to investigate."
"That wasn't my plan."
"Hold the checkpoints. Nobody moves alone."
"Understood."
The radio went silent. Dr Kameda lowered the journal cover without closing it fully.
"We should leave."
Minamoto did not argue. That frightened Haruki more than anything else had.
They began packing only what could be secured quickly — cameras, notes, tools. The journal remained on the table beneath a temporary protective cover.
Haruki walked towards the breach. He listened. At first there was nothing. Only the faint electrical hum of the work lights, the soft movement of equipment behind him, his own breathing.
Then—
A scrape.
Far down the service tunnel.
Metal against stone.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Everyone heard it. Professor Takeda froze. The sound stopped.
Haruki reached for the radio.
Before he could press the button, something knocked once from inside the tunnel wall. Not ahead of them. Not behind them. Beside them.
Three measured taps. A pause. Then three more.
Haruki stared at the stone. No one spoke. Somewhere beyond it, in a passage that did not exist on any modern plan, something began walking towards them.