Sunlight crept through the narrow gap in the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. Marisa rubbed her eyes groggily as she stirred awake, her hair a tangled mess and clothes lying haphazardly around the room. The events of the previous night came flooding back to her, and her cheeks grew warm as she remembered the closeness she had shared with Marcus. Still fast asleep, his body was wrapped around hers, their limbs intertwined. A small, giddy smile spread across her face as she traced her thumb over his forehead, gently sweeping his hair aside.

Carefully, she untangled herself from Marcus's embrace, slipping out of the futon. She stretched her arms above her head, yawning as a stiffness settled into her muscles. The exhaustion from the night lingered, but she felt a contentment she hadn't felt in a long time. After getting dressed, she figured some fresh air would do her good.

She tiptoed out of the room and headed downstairs to find her father already up, busy cleaning and setting up the shop for the day. His expression brightened with a faint smile as he glanced over at her. "Morning, sleepyhead."

"Morning, Dad…" Marisa mumbled, rubbing her face as she approached. "What time is it?"

"Still early," he replied, giving her a knowing look. "Surprised you're up, to be honest. You did get to bed late last night."

Marisa's face flushed as she tried to play it off. "N-No… I went to bed as soon as we got back," she said, attempting to sound casual.

Her father crossed his arms, his expression smug. "The noise you two were making last night would suggest otherwise."

Her breath caught in her throat as her face turned a deep shade of red. "Ah! N-No, that wasn't—" She stammered, utterly mortified. "Oh dear... Damn it…"

He chuckled at her flustered state, shaking his head. "I suspected there was something between you two, but I wasn't expecting that." He raised an eyebrow mischievously. "So, when do I get a grandchild?"

"Dad!" Marisa's voice cracked, her embarrassment palpable.

"Alright, alright," he relented, holding up his hands in surrender. "I won't tease you anymore. Any dreams to share?"

Marisa shook her head, exhaling as the embarrassment slowly ebbed away. "Didn't dream of anything," she lied, glancing around the shop and noticing the clutter. "Do you want me to… help with the cleaning?"

He looked around the shop with a soft smile. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Marisa was set to work alongside her father, and the mundane tasks provided a welcome distraction. As she swept the floor, Marisa's cheeks were still burning as she swept the shop floor, the mortifying exchange with her father replaying in her mind. She had expected a bit of teasing—he was never one to miss an opportunity—but his boldness took her completely off guard. Her father was usually straightforward, but even he rarely crossed into territory that was pretty personal. She sighed, trying to shove her embarrassment to the back of her mind as she worked. Yet, as she continued cleaning, there was a different warmth in her chest, not entirely due to the teasing. It was the memory of the night before, of lying there with Marcus, sharing a closeness that went beyond any magic or adventure.

Her father was watching her with a quiet smile, noticing her expression shift from mortification to something more thoughtful. "You're awfully distracted for a girl who 'didn't dream of anything,'" he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement.

Marisa shot him a look, her lips curling into a reluctant grin. "Are you ever going to let that go?" she muttered, leaning her broom against the counter.

He shrugged. "I'm just glad to see you happy, Marisa. It's been a long time since I've seen you like this." His tone grew softer, more sincere, as he straightened a stack of books on a nearby shelf. "For what it's worth, I think he's a good match for you. You seem… different around him."

Marisa paused, her fingers tightening around the broom's handle. "Different?" She wasn't entirely sure how to take that. "Like, in a good way, right?"

Her father chuckled, nodding. "Of course, in a good way. You seem more grounded but, at the same time, more driven—like you've found something to chase that isn't just about proving yourself to everyone else. And I think that's a good thing."

Marisa blinked, taken aback by her father's words. There was a sincerity in his tone that she didn't hear often, a quiet acknowledgement that the rambunctious magician he raised was growing up. It made her feel proud but also a little emotional. For all the things she'd accomplished with her magic, for all the independence she fought for, something was validating about hearing her father's approval, especially when it came to her personal life.

She resumed sweeping, her voice soft as she said, "I didn't plan on any of this, you know. It just… happened."

"That's usually how the best things in life come to be," he said. "Unexpected, and often when you're not looking."

Marisa sighed, the rhythmic sweep of the broom calming her thoughts. Her father's words echoed in her mind as she worked; the truth was, she didn't know exactly where things would go from here. She and Marcus had shared a lot these past few months, from near-death experiences to laughter-filled days spent wandering the village. They were partners in every sense of the word, but last night had brought them into new, uncharted territory. She wanted to hold on to that feeling, to see where it could lead. But alongside the excitement, there was a nagging worry—about what might happen if things went wrong, about what it could mean for them as a team if they let feelings complicate their already unpredictable lives.

After a while, she realised she had swept the same spot on the floor for several minutes, lost in thought. Shaking her head, she set the broom aside and wandered over to the window. She peeked through the curtains, letting the morning sunlight spill onto her face. The streets of the village were still relatively quiet, with only a few early risers out and about. She quickly found herself back in a sense of debate and questioning; it happened a lot; where did the people who disappeared? Were they alright? Part of her worry about this is that her thoughts turn to Alice in particular. She hadn't seen her friend in a while and was hoping deep down she could show off Marcus to her.

I stumbled down the stairs, still half-asleep and barely aware of where I was. The sunlight sneaking through the curtains stung my eyes, making me squint. I rubbed my face, trying to wake up, but the warm comfort of sleep clung stubbornly to me as if begging me to crawl back under the covers. I could see Marisa's figure across the room, standing by the window with her back to me. Her hair was a mess, just like mine probably was, and she looked deep in thought, staring out at the quiet streets below.

"Morning," I mumbled, my voice hoarse from sleep. I shuffled over to the counter, leaning against it to support myself. "Didn't realise you'd left."

She turned around at the sound of my voice, a faint smile spreading across her lips. "Yeah, well, I figured I'd give you some time to sleep in," she said, her tone light and teasing. "You looked pretty worn out after everything."

I nodded slowly, stifling a yawn. "Thanks for that. I could use a bit more rest, but…" My gaze drifted to the other figure in the room—her father. He was standing near a shelf, arms crossed, looking at me with a grin that made me uneasy.

"Rough night, was it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I felt heat creep up my neck and rubbed the back of my head, struggling to find a response. "Uh… yeah, you could say that."

Before he could press me further, Marisa jumped in. "Dad, stop messing with him," she said, shaking her head and stepping over to me. "We've got work to do anyway."

"Right, right," her father replied, his grin widening as he waved us off. "Go on, then. Just remember to take breaks. And Marcus—" he fixed me with a look that was somehow both playful and serious, "—you take care of my daughter, understand?"

I straightened up a little, meeting his gaze as best I could despite the lingering embarrassment. "Of course, sir," I replied, giving a slight nod.

Before I could get more flustered, Marisa grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the back door. The moment we stepped outside into the crisp morning air, I let out a breath I didn't realise I'd been holding. She was already laughing, shaking her head as she squeezed my hand.

"Honestly, I think he's enjoying this a little too much," she said, her eyes glinting with humour.

I chuckled, the tension easing away as I looked at her. "At least he's taking it well," I said. "Could be worse, right?"

"Yeah," she murmured, her voice softening as she glanced at me. "It really could."

We walked hand in hand down the narrow path leading away from the shop, our footsteps crunching on the gravel. The morning felt different as if the world was settling into a new rhythm. Her hand in mine, the warmth of her touch—these little things brought a sense of calm that I hadn't known I needed.

Walking through the village streets with Marisa by my side, I couldn't shake the awkward silence between us. The events of last night and the new day's uncertainties seemed to hang in the air, making every step feel heavier than it should. I kept glancing over at her, wondering if we should talk about what happened or just focus on the current mystery. She seemed lost in her thoughts, too, her expression shifting between deep contemplation and a faint smile.

Before either of us could figure out what to say, our thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. "Good morning," Reisen greeted as she approached us, her tone professional. "It's good you're both awake and ready to go this early."

Marisa groaned as soon as she saw Reisen, her shoulders slumping. "Ugh, I wanted some more time with Marcus before—" she cut herself off, quickly correcting, "I mean, I need some breakfast."

Reisen gave a slight shake of her head, arms crossed in mild disapproval. "There will be time for food later," she said. "This takes priority. I have a few ideas we can try. What about you two?"

I stifled a yawn before answering. "We were thinking of visiting Reimu," I said. "See what she and the others have found so far. Might be easier if we all bring our findings together, yeah?"

"What he said," Marisa echoed, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She was struggling to keep awake, and it showed.

Reisen looked at us both, concern flickering in her eyes. "You two look exhausted," she noted. "What were you doing last night?"

"N-Nothing!" Marisa blurted out, much louder than she probably meant to. Her face turned a shade redder, and she quickly averted her eyes.

"Okay..." Reisen murmured, a bit taken aback by the sudden outburst. "Should we group up with Reimu and the others then?"

A wave of realisation washed over me, and I cursed under my breath. "Damn it! I forgot Aya's photo," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck in frustration. "Left it back at your father's shop, Marisa. It might be important."

Marisa sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Should we go back...?" She shook her head with a grimace. "I don't really have the heart to face that smug bastard again right now."

"I'll go and get it," Reisen offered, a hint of sympathy in her tone. "You two should head to the Hakurei Shrine. I'll meet you there."

"You sure?" I asked, hesitant to burden her.

"It's fine," she assured me. "Just have to grab it and bring it back, right?"

"The window hangs it up," I said, pointing in the general direction. "You can't miss it."

Reisen nodded and started to walk away. "See you two at the shrine then," she called back before disappearing down the path.

Marisa let out a deep sigh, her head drooping slightly. "Thank God for Reisen," she murmured, relief evident in her voice. "I cannot face my father again after he found out we... well, you know."

"Yeah," I agreed, shoving my hands in my pockets as we resumed our walk. "Let's just hope Reimu and the others have had better luck than us."

Reisen arrived at Marisa's father's shop. Her pace was hurried but not rushed as she approached the counter. Marisa's father was busy with some paperwork but glanced up when she entered. "Good morning," Reisen said quickly, keeping her tone polite but firm. "Marisa and Marcus left some important evidence upstairs. I came to grab it."

He gave a casual nod, pointing toward the staircase. "Upstairs, first room on the left. They left in quite a hurry this morning," he commented.

Reisen thanked him briefly and headed upstairs. As she reached the top, she entered the guest room and was met with the sight of a chaotic mess—clothes strewn about, blankets half on the floor, and the faint scent of lingering warmth. A smirk formed on her lips as she pieced together the obvious. "Cheeky rascals," she whispered under her breath.

Shaking her head, she scanned the room until her eyes landed on the photograph hung up by the window. "There it is," she said quietly, walking over and taking the photo down. But as she looked at it, her smirk faded, replaced by an expression of sheer horror. Her breath hitched, and a shiver erupted down her spine as the realisation sank in.

The photograph was vivid, the image unmistakably clear. Aya had captured something crucial. The culprit. It was the unmistakable red glow, the same piercing light that had nearly overwhelmed Marcus in the alley. Glowing red eyes stared back at her, hiding within the folds of a distorted space—a border, a gap.

Before she could process her next move, a voice echoed from behind her, dripping with a mocking tone. "Oh dear, it appears you've found me out. We can't have that, can we?"

Reisen froze, the voice sending a wave of dread through her. Her ears stood up in alarm, and her skin prickled as she glanced toward the corner of her eye. There, emerging from the folds of a yawning gap in reality, was Yukari Yakumo. She stood there calmly, her usual enigmatic smile adorning her face, her presence so unsettlingly casual.

"I'm so close to breaking through, after all," Yukari continued, her voice carrying an ominous cheeriness.

Reisen's muscles tightened as she tried to remain composed. She had one shot at this. Curling her hand into the shape of a finger gun, she turned and aimed at Yukari, attempting to fire off a burst of her lunatic red bullet.

But Yukari moved faster. With a flick of her wrist, a gap opened just in front of Reisen, and before she could react, she felt a piercing pain tear through her. The next moment, the world around her tilted, and she hit the ground with a sickening thud. Blood splattered across the floor, painting the chaos of the room with a stark reminder of her failure.

Standing over the fallen Reisen, Yukari sighed, looking down at her hand with mild curiosity as if pondering what to do next. Before she could linger on the thought, Marisa's father burst through the doorway, having heard the crash and clamour. He stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening in horror as he took in the sight—Reisen on the ground, blood pooling around her, and Yukari standing in the midst of it all.

Yukari turned to him, offering a faint, almost disinterested smile. "There's no hard feelings," she said gently. "You won't even remember this, after all... none of this is happening."

Before he could react, the door behind him slammed shut, sealing his fate as the gaps closed in around him, leaving him with no chance of escape.

With a final, eerie calmness, Yukari glanced back at Reisen's fallen form. And then, just as she had appeared, she vanished alongside Reisen and Marisa's Father, leaving the room shrouded in a haunting silence.