The options had narrowed to one: a midnight stakeout.

  ?The Doctor’s mind raced through the logistics. She considered deploying Byakko to intercept the woman caught on the monitors, with Clamo as his shadow. She immediately dismissed the thought. One look at Clamo’s fragile frame was enough—she couldn't cast him into the line of fire.

  ?The job posters were already gone, replaced by a silent promise of double the legal minimum wage. A high price for a high-stakes haunting.

  ?Last night, the corridor had been bathed in an eerie, solar brilliance. A celestial silhouette—a star shaped like a human—had drifted past Clamo, clutching two volumes. It had left behind a single fragment of paper.

  ?What was contained in the second book?

  ?The question lingered, but it was a luxury for later. Tonight, the hallway demanded total surveillance. Before the clock struck three, the trio bound themselves to a pact: return here, no matter what.

  ?Twilight bled into the sky. The witching hour for the sun.

  ?Byakko: "Take me to the ocean, Doctor!"

  ?Doctor: "Another twelve kilometers into the salt air? Fine. Let’s move."

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  ?Clamo: "And my orders?"

  ?Doctor: "Guard the threshold. Stay behind."

  ?With his porcelain skin and waif-like stature, a twelve-kilometer sprint was a physical impossibility.

  I want to go, too, Clamo whispered to the silence of his own mind. But he knew the Doctor’s "walks" were nothing short of a high-velocity hunt. He surrendered to the solitude of the house.

  ?Night fell like a curtain. The Doctor and Byakko returned under the cover of darkness. Byakko was a creature of instinct, prone to wandering alone, but his growing attachment to the Doctor had pulled her into his orbit.

  ?She had grown used to the exhaustion. It was a terrifying kind of habit.

  ?With a clinical calm, the Doctor showered and sat for dinner. The air in the room was thick—they were all preparing to witness the unknown.

  ?Byakko: "Clamo. Have you ever seen the Midnight Sun?"

  ?Clamo flinched. It was a rare occurrence: the "Tiger-mon" reaching out first.

  ?Clamo: "I haven’t."

  ?Byakko: "It’s a masterpiece. A twilight that refuses to die for hours. The sun huddles against the horizon line, waiting in the glow... it’s almost endearing."

  ?Clamo: "It isn't 'waiting.' It is the rotation of the Earth."

  ?Byakko: "Poetry, physics... what’s the difference?"

  ?Doctor: "Is the Midnight Sun a dream of yours, Kuramo?"

  ?Clamo: "I have all the 'White Tiger' I can handle right here."

  ?Doctor: "A pun? You’re full of surprises tonight!"

  ?Byakko’s laughter filled the room, a sharp contrast to the approaching gloom. Clamo remained behind his mask, shy and withdrawn, but a faint smile touched his lips in the dark.

  ?The meal ended. The briefing closed. One by one, the house fell into a heavy, artificial sleep.

  ?The "Entity" appeared.