Jongin paced back and forth in the confined space of the secondhand bookshop. Each time the sole of his boots hit the worn out ground, a rumble of anxiousness and nervousness resounded in the air, bouncing off the shelves and splashing the other two males who could not take their eyes off of him.

“Will you just stands till for one second?!?” Jongdae yelped in exacerbation.

“She should be back by now!” Jongin growled in response.

Taken aback by the harsh tone of the younger male’s voice, Jongdae reacted like a naive beagle facing a solitary wild and untamed rottweiler. A soft whimper escaped his throat as he hid behind Baekhyun for protection. Baekhyun who’s shoulders had tensed instinctively, awkwardly cleared his throat in an attempt to exude a calm and collected appearance. Nonetheless, the two best friends exchanged a look of concern.

“I shouldn’t have let her go by herself,” Jongin exhaled in frustration.

His fists clenched tightly onto his hair so aggressively that Baekhyun thought a bald patch might appear soon. Taking a tentative step towards the restless male, Baekhyun rubbed a comforting hand along Jongin’s back and spoke in his best imitation of Chinsun’s signature soothing tone.

“She wanted to.”

Jongin clenched his jaws and merely gave Baekhyun a side glance. Shrugging the latter male’s hand off, Jongin released his hair and stuffed his hands into his pockets. Meanwhile, his brain went into overdrive mode, thinking of all the possible worst case scenarios that might have befallen on the missing girl.

At the crack of dawn, Chinsun had stormed into the streets as she felt something had happened to the Cinnabar. Jongin had happened to run into her on his way back from taking care of some supernatural business at the local seafood market. Before he could even question the girl and her actions or register the mumbled words that fell out of her panting mouth, she had dashed off, blending into the morning fog that erased her trail.

Had Jongin been well rested and not functioning on pure willpower alone after 48 hours of no sleep, he would have noticed the twitch of her eyes, the way she bit her thumb, the manner her pupils flittered left and right — all indicators of her nervousness and fear. However, the exhausted and foolish him just assumed she was on one of her usual visits to the revered Cinnabar before business hours. All he could think about at the time was to reunite with his bed and welcome the dark world of slumber, letting unconsciousness take over for the remainder of the day.

It was now way past closing time for both the funeral home and the bookshop. The sun had bid goodbye to the world and the moon had settled comfortably in the night sky. Yet Chi