Archive of Our Own

A shut door made no sound. This one was simple, made of wood, new but ill-fitting. It was identical to all the other half-thought doorways in this little backstage maze of the ship—built in far too little time. It had a grating hum when swung, as if its hinges pained it, but when motionless like now, it left the tiny side room Melody stood in far too still, far too silent.

It wasn’t often Melody heard silence. A city always had distant traffic or chatter, the countryside was never wanting for wind or the scuffle of wildlife in the bush, even the open sea had waves and gulls. The top deck of this boat, full of whispered conversations and the march of boots down hallways, had never sounded quiet. But this wing had been cleared of all people in the past week. The only thing she could hear was her own breaths and the sound of her own heartbeat.

That heartbeat was scattered. But slow. She didn’t need to hear her own heart to know how it felt: empty.

The phone on the wall rang suddenly, startling her. She stared at it a moment. Communications on the top deck were carefully controlled, and this area had been locked down completely for the past week. Anyone ringing should know only she was in this room right now and would have run into some big barriers trying to do so. And who on earth would be ringing her, specifically?

For a moment, she considered letting it ring on, to fill the silence for just a moment more.

She swallowed and approached the phone. She couldn’t leave it too long, not if it was a prince on the other end; she didn’t want to make enemies she didn’t need to. Already four princes had requested meetings with her in the past week, after her performance; of course there would be more.

She hesitated with her fingers over the phone, then swallowed she put it next to her ear. With some trepidation, she said, “Hello?”

“Melody?”

Her entire body relaxed at the voice, awash with relief. “Kurapika?”

He must have heard the disbelief in her tone, because he said, “We don’t have much time. I was only able to get a few minutes. How’s the situation on your end?”

Melody hesitated. The phone line was definitely being tapped. She didn’t know what factions knew what details, but she figured caution was best.

“The same as it has been every night since the first, after…” Melody trailed off. “I’ve made no progress.”

Kurapika must have known at least the broad strokes of the situation, because he didn’t ask further, merely waited for her to continue.

“I don’t know much about what’s happening outside,” Melody confessed. “I’ve been confined here since the… escape attempt. I know some princes have moved to take control of the situation but I don’t know which ones.”

“I can’t say much,” Kurapika replied. “That wing of the top deck has been locked down extremely securely. Barely any information is leaking out and everyone has been barred. But I know several parties are involved. They’re definitely looking to see if they can use it for their own gain. Everyone on the top deck has been frantic in finding out about Nen; they’re hoping they’ll find something that will give them an edge in the succession war. Or, if that proves too difficult, erase the problem before their competition can do the same.”

That was where Melody came in. She was expendable to them all, after all; a perfect test subject to get close. She was also one of the few close to Kacho, before—

Someone must have said something to Kurapika on the other end of the line; Melody heard the grimace in his voice.

“That’s all the time I have for now. I’ll try to speak to you again later. In the meantime, I’ll work on finding a new position for you, to continue the contract I hired you for.”

His voice hung with exhaustion. She could picture it exactly, she’d seen him like this too many times: shadows under his eyes, barely holding himself upright with nothing but stubborn pride and willpower. There was a slight lilt in his tone that told her he was hardly putting one word in front of the other. When had he last slept?

“Kurapika,” Melody began hesitantly. He always brushed her off when she tried to help him, at most giving her an exhausted, forced smile to show he was fine, actually. She couldn’t offer him more than words over the phone. But it was something. “Please… make sure you take care of your…”

But the dial tone pinged against her ear. He was already gone.

She allowed herself a sigh and put the phone down. With Kurapika and his exhaustion gone, she had nothing to focus on but her own, which she had been trying to ignore, and the quiet his absence left.

The floor creaked far too loudly beneath her foot as she stepped back from the phone. Even that only made the air feel deader.

Its beginning was so silent, she did not even realise it had started until she turned and found a girl staring back at her.

She couldn’t stop herself drinking in the sight. The girl was rearranging the last strand of blonde hair in a pocket mirror. The light that outlined her was not the dim slit falling through the door but golden candlelight, which came from nowhere. It glimmered in her sharp eyes as she glanced around one last time. She grinned at a spot where no one stood and strode towards the door.

Her footsteps made no echo. Her heat made no beat. These had a rhythm once, one that Melody could still hear, if she tried to remember it. She could see the opposite wall through the girl’s skin. Her whole body was less solid than candlelight. Melody had tried to touch her before—put a hand on her shoulder, grasp her hand—and learned it was like trying to grasp smoke.

The only thing that responded to the girl was the door, which opened at her touch.

“Don’t go through that,” Melody said, weakly, though she knew it was useless. “You’re going to die.”

It was, in fact, useless. The girl stepped out of the room, as if she couldn’t hear Melody at all.

All Melody could do was follow the ghost of Kacho Hui Guo Rou through the doorway once again.

“Boring. Boring. Boring.” Kacho sighed as she threw sheet after sheet unceremoniously on the floor. “Ugh, that one looks like it sounds awful.”

Melody had to stand there with pursed lips, flute ready but still unplayed, saying nothing as the prince rifled through her prized collection of music—the pieces she’d carefully selected to fit into her baggage on this long voyage—and tossed them aside with a force Melody was sure would leave tears.

She took a slow breath, forcing herself not to care. There was another bodyguard still stood in the room after all, his mouth curling ever so slightly in suppressed distaste at Kacho’s little performance.

That bodyguard couldn’t hear people’s heartbeats so he didn’t know Kacho’s wasn’t the unconcerned andante of a real spoiled young lady, like Neon Nostrade’s had been. Kacho’s heartbeat was always almost staccato, the beat made a little uneven with what sounded to Melody like a tinge of fear. Even now, when she was sitting at a desk in her own rooms, leaning on the desktop with her cheek in one hand and donning a carefully apathetic expression.

Show me your music, she’d demanded of Melody barely a half hour ago. I want to hear what you’ll play at the performance this week. She often made odd, aggravating demands of her bodyguards when she was bored, but this one at least was a good cover. As she’d said the words aloud, she’d tapped her fingers idly on the desk, saying in Morse Code: I want to see how your power works.

She needed reassurance for their plan, it seemed. Melody sympathised—her and her sister’s lives were riding on Melody’s power, after all. In Kacho’s position, she’d want to see it in action beforehand too.

“What’s this one?” Kacho asked suddenly. She pulled out a page creased with a thousand folds and torn in every corner.

Melody didn’t need to look at the title threaded across the page’s top, but she did anyway, swallowing back the memories it brought up her throat.

“Second Half,” she translated. “It’s one part of a duet. A funeral lament.”

“Huh.” Kacho even made that sound like an uninterested drawl. “Where’s the first half?”

“No one knows.” Melody bit back a sad smile as she remembered. “There’s a legend it was lost years ago among the composer’s many notes when his house was raided. Many music hunters have sought it out, but no proposed copies have ever been successfully verified.”

“That’s useless then,” Kacho said. She tossed it aside, letting it flutter to join the rest of the pile on the ground. “A duet’s incomplete on its own.”

“I agree it’s better to keep a duet together,” Melody said, with a meaningful look that made Kacho freeze, briefly and nigh imperceptibly, in a way she doubted the other bodyguard caught. “I only learned it because my friend was interested in this piece. He was a music hunter, obsessed with obscure and legendary songs.”

Kacho only raised an eyebrow. “‘Was’?”

Melody hesitated. She didn’t look at the other bodyguard, but Kacho seemed to understand.

“Hey, you,” she snapped. “Go get me a drink. I’m thirsty.”

The bodyguard seemed to be fighting a terrible battle to keep his face schooled and neutral. He was losing. “Prince Kacho, I may have been hired by your mother but I’m not your mai—”

Kacho didn’t let him finish. “Did I stutter? Go!”

The guard pulled a face and for a moment Melody could hear him shifting from one foot to another. Then he gave in and left the room, grumbling under his breath.

Melody didn’t comment as she listened to him disappear through the doorway. She didn’t like what Kacho was doing, making all the bodyguards hate her. Understood it. But didn’t like it.

Is he gone? Kacho’s fingers tapped soon after.

He was, so Melody replied aloud, albeit quietly, “Yes.”

Kacho did not relax. Perhaps she could never quite believe she was safe from eavesdroppers. “So? What happened to your friend?”

Telling the story was easy to Melody now. She could do it without letting her emotions overwhelm her, like she was feeling nothing at all. “There was another song he was searching for. The Sonata of Darkness. Have you heard of it?”

A shake of the head. Melody lowered her eyes to the keys of her flute, still unplayed in her hands.

“It was a song they say was composed by the devil himself. Anyone who hears it dies. Someone taught only a small piece to my friend. One day we both got drunk and... my friend didn’t make it.”

She finally met Kacho’s eyes. Kacho was a professional at concealing her expression, but Melody couldn’t miss the slight hitch in her heartbeat. She bit back a small, rueful smile.

“That’s why I became a Music Hunter—I want to find every part of that song and destroy it. That way, at least no one else has to suffer like my friend.” Like me, she did not add.

“That’s pointless,” Kacho said abruptly.

“Excuse me?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Anyone stupid enough to play a song they know could kill them is already a hopeless case. You can’t save people from themselves. So why bother?”

The question drew Melody up short. She didn’t have a response ready and Kacho saw it. The prince shook her head and her eyes drifted back to the sheet music in her hand.

It drew Melody’s eyes too. She thought for a moment, then said, “Shall I play it for you? Second Half.”

Kacho gave a slow nod.

Melody put the flute to her lips and played. She knew the tune by heart, hadn’t needed to bring the sheet music, really. But she liked having it with her. It helped her remember when her friend first showed it to her; sight reading it herself, then listening to him hum it. He loved the tune. She could hear it in how he’d taken care to consider every single note, how loud or soft it should be, which ones to emphasise or leave hanging.

It was a broken piece all the same, no matter how well he sung it.

Melody’s own emotions often laced themselves into her Nen when she played. When she finally drew back from the lip plate of her flute and sighed, she caught Kacho’s expression. Kacho had been staring at her raptly; Melody caught the glint of tears in the corners of her eyes, in the second before Kacho rubbed them away.

“I don’t think you should play that one on stage,” Kacho said, looking down at the other music sheets in her hand. She was clearly trying to keep her voice bored, but Melody heard the waver. “You… play well, though.”

Melody smiled softly.

“It doesn’t matter if you save other people from that cursed song, though,” Kacho went on. “It won’t bring your friend back, will it?”

Melody’s smile froze. She didn’t have time to form an answer, barely time to let the words sink in, when the other bodyguard returned, holding out a glass of water.
“Here you go, Prince,” the bodyguard said tightly.

“Oh, I don’t want it anymore,” Kacho said, without looking up. “Take it back.”

The bodyguard made an outraged noise. Melody bit her lip.

Perhaps Kacho was thinking that the less hope their was for her survival—less love from her bodyguards, less reason to save her—the more there would be for her sister. She was making sure she was the hopeless case.

She could be saved from herself, though, couldn’t she?

Melody knew the route Kacho’s ghost walked too well by now. Down the banquet hall, past the echoing empty tables of seats. Through the twisting metal corridors, towards the docks.

She heard Kaiser before she saw him. No one else’s heart beat like his: so steady she could have mistaken it for the ticking of a clock. It sent a shiver down her spine every time. She’d heard heartbeats that frightened her—Kurapika’s was a cacophony of rage she couldn’t escape, for one—but none more so than this one, more emotionless than even the thrum of a machine.

He was apparently from the Bureau of Justice, assigned to help investigate this case. Melody didn’t know more than that, nor did she care to. He was about the most interaction she’d had with the outside world the night before the failed escape.

Kaiser waited for her in one of the blank corridors she walked through, the tread of her feet echoing ahead of her. He didn’t so much as glance at Kacho’s ghost as she hurried past him–running now with the absent Fugetsu beside her to what she must have thought was the home stretch. He straightened, smoothed down the tidy suit that expressed about as much as his heartbeat did, and said, “I spoke with the Nen exorcist.”

Kaiser’s tone was as business-like as the rest of him, but Melody could at least appreciate his efficiency; she didn’t have the heart for preamble either, right now.

“They finally let you see him?” Melody tried to keep her voice as even as his. Her ears were too sensitive, though–she could hear the slight tremble in it.

She didn’t stop for him. He simply slipped into step beside her as she trailed after Kacho. “Officially, there isn’t even a Nen exorcist on this ship. They wouldn’t tell me which prince he’s employed to, though of course I suspect it will be one of the few who were already aware of Nen. I didn’t know exorcists were so rare. This Nen stuff truly is bizarre, no?”

Melody didn’t give people sidelong looks. She always cocked her ear a little instead, searching the thrum of their voice, the hitch of their breath, the rustle of their clothes from the way they moved for any sign of their true feelings. Kaiser betrayed nothing. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling he was lying about not having heard of Nen before he got on this ship.

She pushed the thought aside. Of course the Bureau of Justice would have a few secrets and an agenda of their own. As long as Kaiser was on her side in this case, that was what mattered.

“What was the exorcist’s opinion?” she asked.

“That he’d never heard of such a phenomenon before,” Kaiser replied bluntly. “He had only two theories: it is being caused by Kacho’s own post-mortem Nen–unlikely due to her lack of Nen abilities prior to death–or it is being caused by someone else. Either way, it must have a power source and some condition activating it. If this condition can be excluded from the equation, for example if it requires someone’s focus or energy, the ‘ghost’ will disappear.”

Melody just nodded numbly. She’d already suspected as much.

She caught Kaiser’s meaningful sideways glance. He must have come to the same conclusion: that what mattered most was not how but who and why.

“I did not mention the Nen beasts you’ve reported, but those are also, of course, a possibility.” These words were said just as evenly, but Melody couldn’t miss the meaning in them.

She’d also considered this already, of course.

“You say Kacho’s Nen beast never showed itself?” Kaiser asked.

Melody’s reply was careful. “I don’t know what would happen to the beast, if it’s owner…”

“Perhaps it latched onto someone close to her. There is also the possibility–”

They passed through a final set of doors and the docks opened up before them. Melody hadn’t gotten the chance to see them before the escape plan was set in motion. Now she was sick of them.

The melody of water greeted her first. Round ships bobbed by a metal pier, tugging at their moorings in the current of the false indoor river. The rest of the hall was echoingly bare, not even the slight buzz of electricity in the walls to betray some other function. The longer Melody looked at it–and she’d had plenty of time to, over the past week–the more her suspicions grew. Where were the life rings, the spare boats? The tools for repairs? It was as if the room was a painting, for show rather than purpose.

A phantom boat awaited at the dock before them. Kacho hurried into it, pausing a moment for a missing Fugetsu to join her, then slammed the door of the boat behind her.

Melody could only stand there and watch that final door close. She knew what happened next: Fugetsu had been interrogated through tears, babbling about dark spirits and a door anyone on this deck could now put together as ‘Nen’. As soon as the twins had reached the sea the true horror of the succession war had reared its head. Fugetsu had hurried into the door her Nen beast created at Kacho’s urging, only to look back and find Kacho had not followed in time.

Melody could only imagine where Kacho’s body was now, drifting somewhere at sea, slumped against the other side of a door its frozen fingers could never open.

The next night, the haunting began.

Kaiser was watching her, Melody found when she finally turned away. “Discover anything new today?” he asked.

She shook her head. Of course not. The dead never did anything new.

A faint sound caught her ear; a tiny clatter behind a pile of crates by the door. Kaiser noticed her stiffen—he didn’t miss a thing. He opened his mouth but Melody pressed a finger to her lips and gave the slightest tilt of her head in the direction of the noise.

He gave no indication he’d heard. Not a blink, not a falter in his heartbeat. He just turned his gaze towards the door and said, “In that case, we’d best get going.”

He set off the way they’d come like nothing was wrong. Even his steps were eerily even. Melody followed his lead, trying not to look like she was listening out for other sounds.

She forced herself to keep looking dead ahead even as they drew up alongside the crates. Before she could decide what to do, Kaiser dove, faster than she thought he could. He grabbed something behind the crates and pulled out a figure, who cried in surprise.

Melody’s mouth parted right as Kaiser made the momentous move of daring to raise a single eyebrow. For there was Fugetsu Hui Guo Rou, looking miserable in Kaiser’s grasp.

She was snivelling, her dark hair a mess, her eyes shadowed and rimmed red. She’d pulled on a plain parka with a hood, but that would never have disguised her well enough on this deck of the ship.

“Prince Fugetsu,” Melody said. “What are you doing here? It’s dangerous! How did you–”

Then she spotted the outline of a little door on the ground behind Fugetsu that had not been there before.

Fugestsu wasn’t paying attention. “Where is she?” she cried. “Did I already miss her?” She looked wildly about the docks. “Katty? Katty, I’m here! Katty!”

She struggled against Kaiser’s grip but he didn’t let her go. A good thing, Melody thought. The way Fugestsu was yanking at her leash, she was bound to dive straight into the river to follow her sister. From the smudges under her eyes, she had probably hardly slept in the past week. Her heartbeat was wild.

Melody couldn’t bring herself to reply. Kaiser had no such reservations, though. “She’s gone,” he said bluntly. “And you shouldn’t be here. We’ll have to take you to security. You understand this, correct?”

Fugetsu just looked up at him pleadingly. “You have to let me talk to her. She’s my sister—maybe I can get through to her!”

Melody sighed internally. Fugetsu’s heartbeat had that tiny current of hope in it she just couldn’t bear to crush.

Kaiser seemed to think for a moment. Then he said, “Alright.”

Melody couldn’t mishear things. She thought she had then, though. “I’m sorry?”

Kaiser’s face remained frustratingly blank. “Prince Fugetsu, go back the way you came before your little door closes. Come join us in the room backstage tomorrow and you will see your sister’s ghost.”

Fugestsu lit up. She wiped her eyes and nodded. “Alright. Yes. Yes!”

Melody turned on Kaiser. “What are you doing? Don’t give her false hope—”

Kaiser silenced her with a look. “Can’t you see?” he said. “She’s exhausted.”

He laid a slight emphasis on exhausted in his otherwise blank tone he must have known only Melody would hear. She stopped dead, like a chord had been struck within her.

Exhausted. Of all the people to be fuelling this ghost… Melody had to admit, Fugetsu was the most likely candidate. Even if it wasn’t something conscious.

“...Alright,” she said. Fugetsu beamed, which only made Melody’s chest heavier.

She didn’t like the idea of manipulating Fugetsu, and she didn’t know what Kaiser was planning. But this was their only lead in over a week. And clearly whatever was going on was killing the Eleventh Prince.

So she stayed silent as Fugetsu bundled herself back into her doorway and shut it behind her.

She wondered how many more doors she’d have to stay silent and watch close.

The energy was restless backstage. The unravelling of their plan was fast approaching.

Melody held her flute ready, though her performance was still a way’s off and she had little need for more practice. It brought some comfort, at least.

She didn’t know where this wash of dread was coming from. She was a mafia bodyguard and a Hunter to boot. She’d helped take the boss of the Phantom Troupe hostage and escaped alive. But just glancing at Kacho and Fugetsu in the corner made her stomach twist. There was little left she could do for them but play.

The room they were in was tiny, just a side room they’d gotten a spare moment in to go over the plan. It was her, the twins and Keeney, the other bodyguard in on the plan. Melody met his eyes and he gave her a small smile, which only made her swallow her feelings further down; she didn’t want to think about his part in the plan just yet.

Kacho and Fugetsu had headphones in their ears as they ‘rehearsed’ their ‘song’. Melody knew they would never perform it, but their mock duet seemed to be helping to calm their nerves, at least.

The duet was perfectly in sync. Their voices seemed almost designed to compliment each other. Melody couldn’t help but notice the steel in Kacho’s gaze whenever she glanced at Fugetsu. And the hope in Fugetsu’s when she looked back.

She waited until they finished a rendition of their song. Kacho paused for a drink and Fugetsu got caught by a conversation with Keeney.

Melody approached Kacho. The Tenth Prince seemed… lighter, somehow. She wasn’t wearing any kind of mask right now; there was hope tangible in her face. Perhaps it was that she didn’t have to hide her true self from the people in this room. Perhaps it was the taste of freedom, so close to her reach.

It was a shame she’d lived a life where doing this hadn’t been possible, until now. But, after tonight, that could change forever.

A realisation hit Melody then.

“Kacho,” she said.

Kacho looked to her absently. “What?”

“I thought about what you asked me the other day,” Melody went on. “About why I would bother wanting to save people who can’t be saved.”

“And why’s that?”

“Perhaps I was too late to save one person. But, I have to believe, I might not be too late to save the next one.” Melody gave Kacho a little smile then, which the prince, seemingly unconsciously, returned. “Or, at least, I have to try.”

Kacho considered that. Her gaze drifted, landing on Fugetsu. Melody couldn’t miss the way Kacho’s eyes softened when she looked at her sister. The way her heartbeat slowed, just for a moment.

Melody could guess what she was thinking. Saving any of the princes from this succession war seemed impossible. But here they were, trying anyway.

“I’d like something a little more concrete than ‘try’,” Kacho said, sounding faintly annoyed. But still hopeful.

It wasn’t long before the time had come. The twins gathered themselves to go.

“Good luck,” Melody told them; there was nothing else she could do for them now, but her part in the plan.

Kacho had nothing more to say either. She just flashed Melody a grin. That grin had steel in it.

Then she and Fugetsu headed for the door.

Kacho was humming something. Quietly, but Melody’s ears caught it. It was Second Half, or at least a snatch of it. For a second, it brought a smile to her face.

But then she thought of her friend, humming the tune on the last night she saw him, and dread fell back over her.

It couldn’t be an omen. But as the door clicked shut behind the princes, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d missed something, planned wrong. That this whole ship had eyes and was watching them all, laughing. That whatever happened next, with the door shut, she may never see the princes again.

The same room. The same time. Kaiser, standing beside Melody, was hardly better than a blank wall.

Melody heard the creak of a door—where, of course, there had been no door before—before she saw Fugetsu.

The prince stumbled into the room pink-faced and panting. “Where is she?” she asked with a hopeful grin that only made Melody’s heart clench.

“Fugestu…” she began but couldn’t continue.

Kaiser didn’t have the same reservations. “She’s not coming tonight, Fugetsu,” he said firmly. “Not if we can help it.”

Fugetsu’s face wavered. “What?”

Melody found her voice. “Fugetsu,” she said, looking the prince in the eye with the kindest, but firmest look she had. “You’re going to have to let her…”

Her voice failed her on the word ‘go’.

She couldn’t.

She couldn’t say it.

But Fugetsu’s attention had been caught by something behind Melody. Her eyes were dilated; her heartbeat spiked.

“Katty…” she breathed.

Kaiser put a hand on her shoulder before she could move. “That’s not her. That’s just a remnant of power.”

Fugetsu’s face twisted in confusion. “I know she’s a—a ghost but I don’t care. It’s her—”

“You’re not holding onto her,” Kaiser said. “You’re trapping her here.”

“Me?” She looked uncertainly between him and Kacho, who was readying herself to set off once again. “You’re saying… I’m doing this? Like, with the door?”

“Only you can let her go,” Melody was finally able to add, miserably.

Fugetsu stared for a full three seconds.

“…No.”

The word was so quiet even Melody nearly missed it. She stepped in front of Fugetsu, as much as she was loathe to. “Prince—”

Fugetsu just turned to her, eyes shining, and Melody’s heart broke. “She’s all I have left,” Fugetsu said. Then, like a bullet to Melody’s heart, “I have to try.”

Melody couldn’t move, couldn’t stop Fugetsu as she ran to Kacho’s side.

“Katty!” Fugetsu cried. “Katty look at me, don’t you recognise me? Don’t leave me Katty, please, I–I can’t–”

Kaiser stepped forward with a sigh. He tried to tug Fugetsu away by the shoulders but she tore out of his grasp.

“Katty! Please! I don’t… I don’t know… what else to do…”

She reached for Kacho but her fingers fell through Kacho’s shoulders. That only made Fugetsu’s breath hitch.

“Katty…” Fugetsu tried miserably. “Please just… look at me…”

Kacho did not hear her. Could not hear her. She turned towards the door, a grin still on her face, oblivious to the death lying minutes before her.

“Help me here, won’t you?” Kaiser said to Melody.

But all Melody could reply was, “I…”

“Katty–!” Fugetsu called one last time.

Her cry was cut short. Melody flinched as Kaiser pressed a cloth to Fugetsu’s face; after a few moment’s more struggle, the Eleventh Prince slumped in Kaiser’s arms. He set her down gently.

“Was that necessary?” Melody asked. She wasn’t even surprised he’d brought chloroform.

“It looks like we will not be able to convince her to let her sister go just yet,” he said, voice still dead of emotion. “That may take time. But this seems to suffice as a short term solution.”

He was right. Kacho’s ghost flickered then disappeared. Melody stared, as if half-awoken, at the spot it had been.

The silence it left was empty.

“It seems we have found the bottom of this mystery,” Kasier went on, businesslike. “Now we can simply notify the other princes that—”

He tailed off right as Melody stiffened.

For the spot the ghost had been was no longer empty. Like radio static fuzzing back into a picture, Kacho appeared again, turning to leave as if nothing had happened. She was a little fainter this time, but there. Humming the last snatch of Second Half.

Melody couldn’t stop the spike of hope that leapt inside her.

“It’s still here–“ she breathed. “But if not her sister, then who—”

Kaiser was staring at her. He didn’t say anything, but she didn’t like the way he studied her.

“What?” she asked.

His voice was expressionless. “It’s you.”

“What?”

“You’re the next most close to Kacho are you not? It’s not just drawing from Fugetsu. The Nen Beast must have… latched onto you somehow. You’re the one keeping her here, Melody.”

Melody stared. For a moment, the only thing she could hear was the pounding of her own heart in her ears.

“You have to let her go,” Kaiser repeated.

Melody looked at him. She knew he was right. Logically, Kacho was already gone. Beyond saving.

But then she looked to the ghost, and saw not the wall through its skin nor heard the silence where its breaths should have been, but caught the glimpse of Kacho’s last smile, still lingering, even now, on her lips.

And Melody found herself saying, “...I can’t.”

“What?”

Before she could stop herself, Melody had raced to Kacho’s side. She reached for the prince’s hand and her fingers passed through. She didn’t care. Kacho didn’t look at her, did not even seem to know she was there.

“Kacho, please,” she begged, “just listen to me this once. Do not walk out that door. You’re going to—”

She gave a startled cry as someone grabbed her from behind. It was Kaiser. She wrestled against him.

“Let go of me!” she cried. “I have to—!”

“I can’t do that,” he said, voice as calm as hers was wild. “It’s already too late.”

“But—”

It wasn’t too late. Kacho was still there. She reached for the door and it opened under her touch. As if she were real.

She was real.

She was right there.

It wasn’t too late. Kacho stepped through the door, towards her death, but it was still closing. Melody struggled. It wasn’t shut yet. She could still save—

“If you don’t let her go now,” Kaiser said, his words a mere breath against her shoulder. “You’re going to spend the rest of your life trying to stop her from walking out that door.”

Melody froze. Just for a moment, no longer than a heartbeat. But it was long enough.

The door clicked shut. Behind, it left silence.

When Kaiser spoke his voice was, for once, so very soft. Anyone but Melody wouldn’t have heard it.

“She’s gone,” he whispered.

He let Melody go. She didn’t have the strength to do anything, say anything, even sob. She simply collapsed on the floor and stared at the silent, shut door.

They left Melody alone after that, locked in a room suspiciously like a cell with little to do. She didn’t have it in her to care what would happen to her next.

She was allowed her flute, at least. Playing music always calmed her, so that was what she did.

One piece in particular drew her. It was a lovely melody, the notes running like a waterfall down the staff. Melody didn’t have to think about the notes; her muscles remembered and the music flowed deep and rich. But the song was full of holes, pauses where she did nothing but wait for the other half of a duet that no one played.

When the last note faded, Melody drew away from her flute with a sigh. Kacho had said this song would never sound complete without its other half. Now Melody had to disagree. Those waiting spaces were the most fitting accompaniment for a funeral lament—they didn’t feel empty, but full of the voice of another instrument that would never come.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor beyond the door. For a moment she tensed—no one but Kaiser had visited her since the night they dispelled Kacho’s ghost, and these weren’t his steps. Then she recognised who the footsteps did belong to and she turned to the door in pleasant shock as it opened.

“Kurapika!” He looked as bad as she’d feared. His suit was crumpled like he’d slept in it, if he’d slept at all. His blonde hair hung limp like dying leaves in a sweltering summer. Still, he managed a weary smile at the sight of Melody.

“I can only apologise,” he said. “Again, I don’t have long. I don’t want to leave the Fourteenth Prince for longer than I have to.”

“No, I’m glad you came,” she replied, though internally her spark of happiness died. Kurapika was clearly already pushing himself beyond his limits. He didn’t have the time to come make sure she was OK. And yet.

“I’m not sure what you’ve heard already,” he went on, “but the other princes lost interest in the Tenth Prince’s ghost as soon as they realised it couldn’t be used to their advantage. There is, however, interest in your ability.”

He gave her a meaningful glance. His eyes were black—he was wearing contacts. Of course.

Then those eyes softened. “Are you doing well, Melody?”

No. But she didn’t say that. She gave him her best smile and said, “Don’t worry about me.”

He didn’t look convinced. “I was able to talk to that man from the Justice Bureau. He’s pulled some strings. We can have you assigned as Fugetsu’s bodyguard from now on.”

Melody nodded numbly. She’d figured as much. She had no qualms about protecting Fugetsu. That girl needed people to rely on right now and Melody wasn’t sure there was a single other person aboard this ship that could be that person for her.

But Kurapika wouldn’t have come all this way just to say that, so she waited.

“My business here is far from finished.” His eyes were focused on the wall, as if he could see through it, all the way to the Fourth Prince. “But you’ve come too close to death already. The man from the Bureau gave me another offer: if you would prefer, we can sneak you down to the lower decks using his contacts. You won’t have to worry about what answers to give the other princes asking to meet with you. You won’t have to worry about my mission. You can rest and recover for the remainder of the journey.” He looked at her again, then, with his terribly weary expression. “I will not hold you to the terms of our contract.”

Terms of their contract. Did he really think Melody was only here because he was paying her to be? No, he was smarter than that. But his face was genuine as he laid her escape route before her.

Melody was tired too. Tired of losing people. Tired of fear. Of grief. She had to admit, the offer was sorely tempting. Getting to relax, not worry about the puppetry of the succession war with its knife-sharp strings. She could close her eyes and not look as Fugetsu inevitably died without her. As Kurapika kept walking forward into hell alone.

She stood there, hesitating, her mouth unable to say yes or no. Kurapika turned away.

“You have a bit of time to decide,” he said. “I’ll leave you to think on it.”

And he headed for the door.

The dread rushed in then. The sudden horrible feeling overcame Melody—the knowledge that if she left him, if she let him walk out that door now, it may well be the last time she ever saw him alive.

She didn’t have to be here. If he was going to die no matter what she did, she didn’t have to see it.

But if she stayed, then, maybe, this time, she could save—

The door creaked closed behind Kurapika. It was about to click shut.

And she—