We all sit in Rosé's living room and I my backpack, pulling out the branch. I run my fingers over it, humming with anxious anticipation. It was four pinecones, all identical and all superglued to the branch. I take my knife from a boot and begin to cut the glue, easily popping off the first cone.

I examine the bottom of it, pulling at the remaining glue. I inspect each of the scales for anomalies and look at the branch, but there is nothing there but pinecone and wood. So I start on the next one, which proves much the same.

"Anything?" Rosé asks impatiently.

I shake my head, removing the third pinecone and examining it carefully. But once again, there is nothing special about it, and no message from appa. What if I got it wrong? What if it wasn't table number ten, of if it was, but the clue wasn't the pinecones? I hold the fourth cone in my hand, knife poised to cut it off.

"I would move faster if I were you," Rosé says. "Or the Ferryman might very well kill your father while you're being precious about those pinecones."

Sehun gives Rosé a sharp look and Lisa shakes her head.

"What? I'm only stating the obvious," Rosé continues.

"If it's obvious, then you don't need to state it," Sehun says.

But Rosé only shrugs. "Testy, testy."

I cut the fourth pinecone off, turning it over. The wood beneath it is smooth and normal. But as I pull off the superglue on the base of the cone, my face lights up. The bottom of the pinecone is hollowed out and inside is a small rolled-up piece of paper.

I tip it into my palm and immediately unroll it. Written on the paper is appa' handwriting is a message. I read aloud:

We're taking to the streets in treason

Welcome to the first Death SeasonIt's time to make a change, and we've picked a dayThe head Tiger we will slay

My mind races. "A rhyme?" I say, confused.

I'm silent for a moment and Rosé taps her fingers on the armchair. "Out loud, Suzy, say what you're thinking out loud."

I shake my head. "I'm just . . . I've never heard appa recite a rhyme in my life, much less write one."

Sehun looks at the paper with me.

"Your non-rhyming father aside, we need to decipher the meaning," Rosé says, and leans forward with a curious look, like she would take the paper from my hand if she could. "It's threat to Taecyeon, that's for certain. But clearly that's not all. If it matches the other clues he's left, then you should be able to understand it."

"Suzy?" Sehun says.

I stare at the paper, hyperaware of the small time window and the insurmountable pressure. Nothing immediately jumps out at me, and so I read it again, but the words just swim on the page like nonsense. I huff. "Why is he making me chase clues about him over to damn provinces?" I say, more to myself than to them. "Here I am trying to understand some absurd rhyme when I should be warning him that the Ferryman is closing in."

Rosé grunts. "Are you kidding? If it were my father, it would have been five continents, only to end back up where I started . . . annoyed."

"My appa isn't like most Strategia," I say reflexively.

"Are you sure?" Rosé says in a tone that tells me she has her doubts. "Because testing children in frustrating and uncomfortable ways is about as Strategia-like as a parent gets. And I'm sorry to burst your rosy bubble, but he sent you to Tiger property and into a celebration hosted by Taecyeon, of all people. He's not exactly trying to keep you safe."

I open my mouth to argue with her, angry that she would even suggest such a thing. The choices appa's made my entire life have been about keeping me safe. He loves me. He's doing this for me. But given the recent chains of events, I'm also not sure she's wrong.

"Let's just go out on a limb here and suppose that Suzy knows her father better than you do, Rosé, and give her a minute to digest the message," Sehun says.

"Oooh, please don't use sarcasm on me, Sehun," Rosé says with overblown drama. "How will I ever go on?"

"With the same psychotic clown routine you've been using for years," Sehun says.

"Rawwwrrr," she says, and slashes her fingers at him like a large cat.

But I'm barely listening because I'm staring at the message, reading it repeatedly, not absorbing the words and my mind drawing a giant blank. I exhale in frustration. Stop it. Get control of yourself. It's just like learning to fence. The more emotional you get, the more ineffectual you'll be.

I elongate my breaths, slowing my heart rate and rolling back my shoulders. And I look at the message again. I'll break it down in pieces, translate it, write it backward-whatever I need to in order to make sense of it.

"Okay," I say. "What I've been doing so far isn't working, so I'm going to think this through out loud. Jump in if you notice anything, 'cause right now I'm just spinning my wheels."

Rosé puts her hand on her chest, looking aghast. "As if you thought I would keep my opinions to myself and deprive you all of my musings."

I look from the paper to Sehun, ignoring Rosé. "What we know is that every clue so far has required both me and Sehun to decode, so I don't imagine that this one is any different. There are probably things in here that all will know and I won't." I clear my throat. "Let's see . . . the first bit reads: We're taking to the street of treason." I pause. "On this part, I've got nothing. That doesn't even sound like something appa would say, to be honest." I look up at them to see if they have any input, but no one says a word. "Then he writes: Welcome to the first Death Season. What's weird about this is that he did say 'death season' to me once and only once, when I was six."

"Would he expect you to remember that?" Sehun says.

"Actually, yeah," I reply. "It's part of a story we've told dozen times. And . . . hang on . . . you know what?" I say, feeling a glimmer of hope. "It's time to make a change, and we've picked a day could also be a variation of that story." I read the next line. "But The head Tiger we will slay has no meaning to me beyond the obvious killing-Taecyeon connotations."

"A code based on personal experiences," Sehun says. "That fits the pattern."

"It definitely does," I agree.

"So let's hear it, Susu," Rosé says. "When did your dad say those things to you?"

I raise a wary eyebrow at the nickname. "Okay, so, eomma died in November the year I turned six," I say. "By the time early December rolled around, there was none of our usual cheer. Everything felt . . . wrong."

Lisa gives me sympathetic look, but Rosé looks like she wishes I could get on with it.

"Then one evening," I continue, "appa came into my room with a pile of those holiday magazines . . . did you have those? The ones where everyone is wearing terrible Christmas sweaters and looking pristine while ice-skating?"

Lisa shakes her head.

"Well, anyway, he came in and dumped the magazines onto my bed and told me to sit up. He said that winter was always our family's favorite season and that he was going to be damned if it was going to transform from one of the happiness times of year to the death season. He said we were going to treat that winter as the first winter."

"So the 'death season' could translate to winter," Sehun says.

"Right," I say, feeling more confident. "He said we would treat it as the first winter and that it was time to make a change. He told me to pick a day, any day in December, and we would start a new tradition, something that was just ours, that had nothing to do with the years before. So I chose the twentieth."

"Hmm," Rosé says, like she's considering the whole thing. "Winter and December twentieth."

"The weird part is that it's five days past that date," I say. "And December twentieth is obviously in winter, so why the redundancy?"

"Unless the December part isn't necessary," Lisa says, and I look at her.

"How so?" I say.

"Your story said to pick a day, right? And you picked the twentieth. So what if it's winter and the number twenty?" she says. "Like in, for instance, an address."

My eyes widen. Could this really be the clue I've been waiting for all along? "Lisa, I think you might be a genius."

Sehun grabs the atlas of Gyeonggi and spreads it out on the table. He flips to a map of Seoul and we all crowd around it.

It only takes a few seconds before Sehun points his finger down. "Found it. Winter Street."

"And Winter Avenue," Rosé says, pointing to the complete opposite side of the city.

For a brief second we're quiet.

"We're taking to the street in treason," Sehun and I both say at the same time.

"Well then," Rosé says, smiling. "Twenty Winter Street it is."

"Or One Winter Street," I say, "considering the rhyme says first Death Season. It could be One Winter Street, apartment number twenty, for instance."

Rosé gives me a look that almost appears to be respect. "Yes, yes it could."

"But about the last line?" I ask.

"If I had to take a guess," Sehun says before Rosé can jump in, "it was designed to look like a threat, in case anyone else found it. It's actually a brilliant code."

"An address," I repeat, and stand, itching to get to it. I need to tell Sejeong.

Rosé is already up, checking the weapons in her boots and on her belt. "While I understand that we have a seriously limited time constraint to find your dad, I just want to say that it's a terrible idea to go to an address that the Ferryman may or may not know without taking it out first."

"If you wanted to be safe, Rosé, you should have stayed home," Sehun says, repeating her comment from our text conversation.

I grab my coat and gloves and toss Sehun his. And in less than a minute we're out the door.

➶ ⱠɆ₮'₴ ⱧɄ₦₮ ⱧɆⱤ ➴

Sehun drives through the streets of Incheon to Seoul, and I sit up front with him, tapping on my knee, silently repeating my hopes that we'll find appa and that this isn't just the location of yet another clue. Here we are racing to beat the Ferryman, and I can't even be certain we're headed toward appa. If I don't see another clue for ten years it will be too soon.

Sehun looks over at me, periodically reading my face. "Something we should know?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Not exactly. It's just . . . that message from appa . . . it . . ." I look over at Sehun. "It was a rhyme. Appa doesn't rhyme," I say, repeating my objection from earlier.

"Apparently he does," Rosé says from the backseat.

"Are you thinking the message was altered? That it wasn't from him?" Sehun asks, ignoring Rosé.

"No. It was his handwriting," I say. "And it follows the patterns of the other clues he's left us. It's just that all of a sudden, after seventeen years of raising me in a small town away from Strategia, talking to me in non-Strategia ways, and teaching me non-Strategia values, he suddenly does a one-eighty."

"Didn't your dad also lie to you your whole life?" Rosé says, which earns her a disapproving look from Sehun through the rearview mirror.

"He did," I say. "And I'm learning to accept that, even though I don't like it. But sending me to Kyungsoo's and to that Tiger ball is different. Why would he willingly put me in danger . . . to what, test me? Everything in me tells me he wouldn't do that, yet here we are with an address that he could easily have hidden in the tree outside my house instead of a Tiger event. What kind of  a parent would do something like that to their child?"

"Mine," Rosé and Sehun say at the same time, and it puts the kibosh on my rant.

"I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean -"

"You did and it's fine," Sehun says. "You're right that Strategia parents aren't as warm or cuddly as other people's parents. But they have a level of responsibility that other parents don't. They know their children will grow up to stop disasters, to thwart attacks, to sidestep wars-and they do what they need to in order to get us prepared. When you're looking out for everyone, there are always personal sacrifices. Strategia aren't perfect."

"Speak for yourself," Rosé says.

I nod because I'm not sure what to say. Sehun's point is absolutely fair, and from a nonemotional standpoint that logic makes perfect sense. But I'm not coming from a nonemotional standpoint and I don't want to. I want appa-the one I've always had, the one who loves me so much he would risk everything to keep me safe.

Sehun slows and I spot the sign for Winter Street. We pass a restaurant cleaning up for the night and a closed candy store's with the number 6 on the awning. And the instant Sehun puts the car in park, I'm out the door.

I walk quickly to a brick apartment building with white trim, bay windows, and a bronze number 1. It only takes a few seconds for Sehun, Rosé, and Lisa to join me. We don't discuss it; we just casually walk up to the door, and Sehun pulls out his lock-picking tools as though they were keys. I stand next to him, blocking him from the view of any pedestrians, and in a couple of seconds we're inside.

The lobby is modest but clean, with mailboxes near the entrance and a flight of stairs with a polished wooden railing. We walk toward the staircase at an easy pace, avoiding any movements that might signal we're out of place here. And we make out way steadily up two flights, where the apartment numbers begin with twos.

Three doors down is apartment number twenty and my heart pounds furiously as we close the short distance. I take a hopeful breath, raise my hand, and knock. Four seconds pass. I knock again. Still nothing.

Please let appa be here. Please.

I look at Sehun and he pulls out his lock-picking tools, slipping them into the keyhole. There is the familiar click, and he cracks the door an inch. He peers through the opening, but instead of taking his time assessing the inside like I would have imagined, he opens the door wide.

For a split second I try to convince myself that it's because he sees appa, but in my gut I know that's wrong. And the instant I say eyes on the room, I panic. The living room is a mess-furniture overturned, glass on the floor, and blood.

I rush into the room. "Appa!" I call out, but there's no answer.

Beside me, Sehun has his knife drawn and Lisa is clutching a blow dart. But I can't think about weapons right now. All I can think is that there is blood on the floor that belongs to someone isn't appa.

I race into the bedroom, which is disconcertingly tidy, with a quilt folded at the bottom of the bed and appa's plaid duffel bag, which matches my own, sitting on the floor next to a dresser. My heart sinks. "No," I say, backing out of the room.

Sehun touches my arm. "Suzy -"

But I pull away. "I'm not . . . This is not . . . No," I say, trying to unknown this horror.

I walk back toward the living room, but Sehun blocks my path. "Why are you . . . move, Sehun," I say.

"I need you to listen to me," he says, his voice demanding my attention. "Whatever happened here happened not long ago."

I stare at him, trying to take meaning from what he's saying, but all I can think about is the blood splatter in the living room.

"Which means that we may not have very much time here," he continues, and his look is hard and serious, not soft and comforting like a non-Strategia's would be. "The Tigers will be coming back to scrub this place clean and go through your father's things. This is our only chance to search the apartment ourselves and we need your help. You're the only one who would know if your dad left you something."

The instant Sehun suggests it, some of the emotional fog clears.

"Right," I say, my voice tight. "I understand."

Sehun steps out of my way after giving me an assessing look and we move back into the living room.

Lisa is bending down near the floor, inspecting a few drops of blood on the wood. "I would say this happened no more than an hour ago," she says. "The blood is still fresh."

"No wonder Taecyeon gave that speech," Rosé says, walking around the room, taking in all of the toppled furniture. "The Ferryman was probably en route as he spoke." She turns from one side to the next and chops her hand in the air, like she's simulating the altercation. "If I had to guess, though, the Ferryman wasn't alone. I would say that there were three or four people in this fight, based on the wreckage and the locations of the blood."

Lisa nods her agreement.

I walk through the living room, fighting the urge to break down, and scour ir for anything that might be personal or that appa might have left for me to find. There are a coffee table and a couch with a charcoal-gray thrown in front of a fireplace, two overturned chairs and a broken scattered on the floor. The problem is that everything in the room is bland; there's nothing that reminds me of Jeongsan or that feels personal in any way.

Rosé and Lisa systematically inspect the apartment, flipping through the pages of the books and checking the kitchen drawers for false bottoms. Sehun stands by the window, peering beyond the curtains down the street. I can only assume he's keeping watch for Tiger assassins.

"Anything?" he asks after a couple of minutes.

"A big fat nothing," Rosé says, and I nod in agreement.

"I'm going to check the bedroom," I say as I move toward it, remembering the day at my house when I was certain Sehun wouldn't find anything there. And to my surprise, Lisa follows me in.

"How can I help?" she says.

"The blanket," I say. "At my house there was a message in one of the seams."

And she immediately goes to work. I pick up appa's duffel bag. Plaid blanket, plaid duffle bag-it feels like an obvious association. Plus, no one but me would know that we have matching bags.

I go over the outside of the duffle bag with my fingers, checking the seams and the fabric for any possible bumps, but find nothing. I open the bag and it's empty, with only the faintest whiff of appa's ocean breeze aftershave remaining. I press my lips together and shake my head, forcing myself to focus. And then I see it-inside the side pocket is appa's favorite whittling knife with the handle shaped like a wolf.

I pull it out and flip it open, but there's nothing there but the blade. My heart sinks-what if he didn't have time to leave me a message? I slip the blade into my boot, unwilling to leave it behind for the Tigers to find, and I move to the dresser. I pull the doors open and inside hang simple black and dark gray clothes, exactly you would expect from a Strategia wardrobe. I flip through the shirts and pants, running my hands over the pockets and the cuffs, looking for anything that might be out of place.

I pull the last pair of pants aside and on the final hanger is appa's gray wool scarf-actually two of appa's gray wool scarves. I frown. He's worn this scarf through my entire childhood and now I come to find that it's not even special-there are two. I grab the fabric of the first one, running my fingers along it. At the very bottom is a frayed edge. I instantly have a flashback to the game eomma used to play with me-the one where she would make me distinguish between the two seemingly identical objects.

"Suzy?" Lisa says, now staring at me.

"I think" -my throat is suddenly parched- "this is my eomma's." I pull it off the hanger, holding it close to my body. "I just don't know why it would be . . ." I stop, my fingers finding the tag and a small bump inside the fabric.

I separate the tag fabric and sure enough, folded inside is a small piece of paper with appa's handwriting.

"Got it!" I say, and Lisa smiles.

She quickly folds the blanket exactly as it was when we came in. I wrap eomma's scarf around my neck and slip the note in my pocket. I close the dresser's doors and zip the duffel bag, placing it where I found it. In a flash we're all out of the door, down the stairs, and walking to the car.

I stick my hand in my pocket to text Sejeong.

Me: Appa captured. Found note.

We jump in the car and Sehun pulls away from the curb.

"Okay, let's hear it," Rosé says from the backseat.

I take the small piece of paper out of my pocket, unfolding it. Unlike the other notes where the handwriting is neat, this one appears to have been written quickly. Did appa know he was in trouble when he wrote it?

I read aloud:

The tall bouncer at the pub also guards the Tiger estate.

He goes there directly after his shift at 2 a.m. I love you, my sweet girl.

I stare at the last line. While I know it's not the important part of the message,  read it over and over, swallowing back the emotion that threatens to come.

Rosé whistles. "I don't know whether this cause for celebration or the worst thing I've ever heard."

"The Tiger estate," I say. "That's Taecyeon's house, right?"

"Yes," Sehun says, stopping at a light. "But a Family estate is more than a house. A number of Family members live there in addition to the head family, guards, and staff. The properties are large, with meeting rooms, a great hall, and a dungeon."

My heart races. A dungeon. "And the Tiger estate isn't just something you sneak into. We could spend weeks planning to break into one with a large crew and it still might not be enough time to do it properly."

"Without a doubt," Rosé says. "But a Family estate isn't just something you sneak into one with a large crew and it still might not be enough time to do it properly."

I nod. "I don't expect you to come with-"

"I'm coming," Lisa says, and I turn to her surprise. "It's half past midnight. If we head to the pub right now, we'll arrive in time to track that bouncer."

"You want to go tonight?" Rosé says in disbelief, staring at Lisa like she's completely lost it. "You're not even giving us one day to think this through? We might as well just hand ourselves over to Taecyeon."

"Do as you wish," Lisa says. "But please don't distract us. Every minute here counts."

Rosé's mouth drops open, but Lisa doesn't seem put off in the least.

"Where's this pub?" I ask.

"The Tiger Market," Sehun says, and I can I hear by the tightness in his voice that it's not a good thing.

"So central Seoul?" I say.

"Under," Sehun says.

I stare at him. "Under what?"

"Under central Seoul," Sehun says, and I instantly understand Rosé's objection. "It's a Strategia market in the middle of an underground labyrinth."

My stomach drops. "As in the only people in this market Strategia?" I say. "And because this is Seoul, those Strategia are disproportionately Tigers?"

"Oh wow, I think she's got it," Rosé says, clearly not happy with the situation.

"The pub is called the Tiger's Den," Sehun says like it's all the explanation that's necessary. He hits the gas pedal. "We're going to need more weapons."

I immediately text Sejeong.