Shin Jin walked from the garden, leaving the cold and the unmarked stone behind.
The side gate was ahead. Noir, Piers, and Soo Ah were already there, and the scene was so blessedly ordinary it almost hurt to look at.
Soo Ah was attempting a handstand against the wall, her legs wobbling. "Twenty-three... twenty-four—"
"Your form is terrible," Piers observed from where he leaned against the gate.
"Your face is terrible," Soo Ah grunted, then promptly collapsed. "Noir, tell him my form was perfect."
Noir looked up from tying his shoe. "Your form was... present."
"Worst compliment ever. I'm taking it as a win."
They straightened slightly when they noticed Shin Jin. "You made it," Piers said.
"I keep my promises," Shin Jin replied. "Shall we?"
...
The walk loosened them. Soo Ah bumped Noir's shoulder. "Please tell me there's explosions in this movie."
"And a tragic backstory involving dead parents," Piers added.
"Dead mentor, actually."
"Close enough. I'm predicting the villain is secretly the hero's brother."
"That's not—" Piers paused. "Actually, that might be accurate. The promotional materials were suspiciously vague about family trees."
Noir spoke up quietly. "I heard the final fight scene is twenty minutes long."
"Twenty minutes?" Soo Ah's eyes lit up. "That's either going to be amazing or absolutely unwatchable. No in-between."
"I'm betting on unwatchable," Piers said. "These things always devolve into people standing on opposite sides of a field yelling about honor."
"While their hair blows dramatically in non-existent wind," Soo Ah added.
"And someone definitely says 'you don't understand' at least four times," Noir said, deadpan.
Soo Ah barked a laugh. "Oh, we're making this a drinking game. Every time someone says 'you don't understand,' we eat popcorn."
"We'd die of popcorn poisoning," Piers said.
"What a way to go."
"Do you think normal people just... do this all the time?" Soo Ah asked suddenly. "Go to movies on random weeknights?"
"Without planning a break-in afterward," Piers said dryly.
"Maybe they're all planning break-ins. We don't know their lives."
Noir glanced at a closed bookshop. "I think normal people probably sleep through the night."
Beat of silence.
Then Soo Ah slung an arm around his shoulders. "Overrated anyway. Sleep is for people who don't have important "movie-watching to do."
"And heists," Piers added dryly.
"And heists," Soo Ah agreed cheerfully.
Shin Jin walked behind them, watching three silhouettes move in unconscious sync. A unit formed through survival, trying desperately to have one normal night.
...
The cinema was a gaudy, wonderful beacon of normalcy. Bright lights, the smell of butter and sugar, teenagers from other schools clustering in groups, laughing too loud.
Soo Ah immediately made a beeline for the concession stand. "We're getting the biggest popcorn. And those weird blue candies that taste like regret."
"Why would we get something that tastes like regret?" Piers asked.
"For the experience, Piers. Live a little."
They ended up with an enormous bucket of popcorn, the questionable blue candies, and some kind of sparkling juice that Soo Ah insisted was "fancy." Noir carried the drinks, Piers had the candies, and Soo Ah wielded the popcorn bucket like a trophy.
In the theater, they claimed seats in the back row. Soo Ah immediately put her feet up on the seat in front of her. Piers gave her a look.
"What? No one's sitting there."
"It's the principle of the thing."
"The principle of comfort? I agree."
Noir, sitting between them, accepted this as his fate. Shin Jin took the seat on the aisle, giving them space to be themselves.
The lights dimmed. Previews started—overblown action sequences, a romantic comedy that made Soo Ah groan, something about a haunted house.
"If we die on this archive mission," Soo Ah whispered, "I want it known that I could've been a film critic. Look at my discerning taste."
"You just booed a puppy," Piers whispered back.
"It was a suspicious puppy."
"It was literally just sitting there."
"Suspiciously."
Noir made a sound that might've been a suppressed laugh.
The movie was perfect—big, loud, uncomplicated. Soo Ah kept up a running commentary in whispers. "Oh, here we go. 'You don't understand'—drink!"
They all grabbed popcorn simultaneously.
"Why is he monologuing? Just hit him!"
"That's not how honor works," Piers murmured.
"Honor is stupid. Hit him."
Noir actually laughed, quiet but real.
Then came the scene—the hero thinking his friend was dead, unleashing golden destruction on screen. Soo Ah went still. Piers noticed. On screen, the friend was revealed alive. Triumphant music. Tearful reunion.
"That's such bullshit," Soo Ah said, barely audible. "Terrible pacing."
But Shin Jin saw what they didn't say. Saw Soo Ah's clenched fist. Noir's tight jaw. Piers tracking them both with guardian vigilance.
They'd lived that scene. The movie had lied about how it felt.
...
Outside, under neon lights, the cool air was a shock. The three stood together while the crowd dispersed.
Soo Ah scuffed her boot against pavement. Once. Twice. Three times.
"You know what the worst part about that movie was?" She asked, not looking at either of them.
"The villain's motivation?" Piers offered.
"The twenty-minute fight scene?" Noir suggested.
"No." Soo Ah's voice went quiet, lost its playful edge. "It was the part where he thought his friend was dead."
She finally looked up, looked directly at Noir. Her eyes were too bright.
"When I saw you lying there, I could see inside your fucking skull, Noir. Your eyes were open but they were just... glass. Dead glass. And there was no music. Just me screaming your name and you were already dead and I couldn't—I couldn't fix it, I couldn't—"
Her voice cracked. Her hands were fists, shaking.
"I never want to feel that again. So you don't get to do that anymore, okay? You don't get to just stop breathing. That's not allowed."
Noir looked at her—really looked, his distance stripped away. He nodded. Slow. Solemn. A promise he didn't know if he could keep.
"Okay," he said quietly.
Piers's hand rested briefly on Soo Ah's shoulder, then dropped. "We stick together," he said, and it sounded like an oath. "No matter what we find tonight."
"Always," Soo Ah said, voice rough but steady.
"Always," Noir echoed.
...
The cinema doors opened behind them. Shin Jin emerged, slipping his hands into his sleeves against the night chill. He'd given them a few minutes—watched through the glass doors as they stood in a tight cluster, talking with an intensity that spoke of things that couldn't be said in a teacher's presence.
Now he crossed the distance between them, his footsteps deliberate on the pavement.
They turned as he approached, their expressions shifting—not guilty, exactly, but private. Like closing a book they'd been reading together.
Shin Jin stopped before them, studying their faces. Soo Ah's eyes were red-rimmed but her jaw was set. Piers stood with one shoulder angled toward Noir, protective. Noir looked... steadier, somehow. Grounded by whatever had just passed between them.
He didn't ask what they'd been discussing. Some truths were theirs to keep.
Instead, he reached out and placed a hand on Soo Ah's shoulder, then Piers's. He met Noir's eyes directly.
"Stay together," he said, his voice low and thick with something that might have been regret. "Watch each other's backs. Trust each other above anyone else in that place. Above doctrine, above orders. Each other first."
It was the most treasonous thing he could say. The most necessary.
"We will, sensei," Soo Ah said.
One moment longer—four people on a sidewalk, the last moment before everything changed.
Then Shin Jin turned toward the cathedral. Behind him, their footsteps headed the opposite direction.
Toward the eastern district. Toward the archives.
Forgive me, he thought. I'm doing the same thing. I'm letting them walk into the dark.
...
The tram was nearly empty. They sat pressed together in the back.
"On a scale of one to ten, how illegal is this?" Soo Ah asked.
"Eleven," Piers said.
"Excellent."
Noir stared out the window. "Do you ever think about what we'd be doing if we were normal?"
"I'd be failing literature," Soo Ah said. "Or in a non-murderous gang."
"I'd be in university studying something useless like philosophy," Piers said quietly. "Writing pretentious papers."
"You'd be so insufferable."
"Undoubtedly."
They looked at Noir.
"Maybe I'd just... be a kid," he said. "Do homework. Worry about normal things. Figure out how to talk to people without feeling like I'm pretending to be human."
"For what it's worth," Soo Ah said, "you're doing a pretty good job at the human thing."
"The bar is very low."
"And yet you clear it with room to spare."
The tram slowed. Their stop.
"Ready?" Piers asked.
"Nope," Soo Ah said cheerfully. "Let's go anyway."
The cathedral's eastern wing loomed ahead. Noir stared at it, something flickering across his face—an echo of something he couldn't quite name.
"You okay?" Soo Ah asked.
"Yeah. Let's go steal some truth."
They moved into the shadows.
...
Shin Jin relieved the drowsy acolyte at the monitoring station. "Get some rest. I'll handle the night watch."
He sat before the screens. With careful commands, he isolated the eastern sector. Rerouted alerts. Created a maintenance window that didn't exist.
A gap. A gift. A betrayal.
On the tertiary monitor, a sensor flickered near Section 7B.
Right on schedule.
Am I protecting them? Or lighting the path to their destruction like I did with Akane?
The question had no answer. Only the choice, already made.
He was not here to guard the secrets.
He was here to guard the thieves.
In the garden, white plum blossoms fell on an unmarked grave. Six years of petals. Six years of a promise he'd failed to keep.
I'm sorry. Maybe I can save them.
Maybe.
The monitors hummed. The blind spot held.
And in Section 7B, three thieves searched for truth in the dark.