Until I gave the dog two slices of duck jerky, I still hadn’t received any follow-up from Tuesday. Instead, it was Rafe—after what seemed like a fierce and painful internal struggle—who finally offered me some “common knowledge rumors.”

  To put it simply, Roman Grane is currently the adopted orphan of the former Mr. Ainsworth. His father had died young and worthless, and his mother passed away before he turned ten. If that’s how a traditional clade operates, I don’t see how it’s this clade has any different from an orphanage.

  “So, the former Mr. Ainsworth—Roman Grane’s adoptive father—what about him? Is he still alive?”

  Rafe looked deeply uncomfortable. “Of course he is. He’s just… old.”

  Is he dying? I wondered, and a bold thought struck me. “Was Roman Grane formally adopted? Does he have inheritance rights?”

  Rafe’s face darkened as he stood up from the couch and walked over to me. “Who told you that?”

  “Oh, come on—I’m not brain-dead. You defend him constantly. If enough people back him like you do, then Roman Grane could be a legitimate contender for succession. All it takes is enough people having the same thought I just had…”

  “Don’t go around talking about things you don’t understand. But—some of what you said is true. In fact, there’s more that you got right.” Rafe sounded like he was struggling to hold something back. “That woman you tore apart with your words.”

  “Huh?” I was busy sinking into Otto’s soft chest fur, unable to pull myself away.

  “She’s Hailey Ainsworth.”

  Oh my god.

  Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

  I instinctively rubbed the marine biologist’s head and snatched up Tuesday, shaking her back and forth.

  “They didn’t take what I said back then seriously, did they?—You know exactly what happened there.” Panic was overtaking me. I wanted nothing more than to tear Roman Grane, that woman, and every single person my Skill could detect into pieces. “The truth is the real blade. Do you think our supervisor might be tempted by what I suggested? Would Hailey Ainsworth kill me just to send Roman Grane a warning? Or… he might just take what he wants from me and then hand me over to the Ainsworths to prove his loyalty…”

  “You’re not wrong. Honestly, if you hadn’t gone off to eat that stupid donut, things would’ve gone exactly like that.” Rafe sat down beside me and patted my head. “No clade can just kill someone at your level. Roman acknowledging your abilities was a promise—one you never understood when you accepted it. You lucky bastard.”

  Making the choice furthest from death while knowing absolutely nothing—yeah, I really was too lucky. But does that kind of blind fortune feel any better than desperation? I wasn’t sure.

  Otto seemed to sense my anxiety and gave my cheek a soft lick. Tuesday’s message inside the doll changed, too.

  “Kiss me.”

  Weird. It felt like a kid seeing people kiss for the first time, trying to explore with her toy out of innocent curiosity. Still, under Rafe’s stunned gaze, I pressed my lips against the lower half of the twenty-centimeter cotton doll’s face.

  “You don’t need to be so scared. Those two worthless sacks of flesh can’t even reach into Nowhere—they can’t touch you.” Tuesday leapt onto my shoulder and pushed Rafe’s hand off my head. “Blue Vulture won’t let its employees be toyed with by humans, even if they are human themselves.”

  Something cold trickled down from my temple and seeped into the doll. Tuesday’s voice turned low and hoarse.

  “This is a fine body. Can I have it?”

  “You already have a better one,” Tuesday’s voice returned to normal. “I just pulled off a successful event at the hotel—not telling you more. In short, I’ve been offered the chance to open a new gallery.”

  Rafe immediately recoiled from Tuesday. Otto growled low in his throat at me in fear. It hurt more than a bullet tearing through my chest.

  But I understood Rafe’s reaction. In Nowhere, everything only ever has one goal. Still, I trusted Tuesday more—not because she shared my sense of morality, but because she wasn’t stupid enough to spook her prey before the trap was set.

  “Don’t worry, I’m planning to open the convenience store in China.” Tuesday smirked and tugged at the stitches beneath her chin. A pearl-like bead, radiant to the point of being garish, dropped from her mouth—of course there wouldn’t be cotton inside a cotton doll. What was I even thinking?

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Black mucus oozed from the doll’s facial features before I could get a good look at the bead, slowly dyeing the pale surface darker and darker.

  “This is a relic. You don’t need to keep feeding it.” Tuesday wrapped her arms around my neck, voice tender. “Don’t worry. Just figure out what kind of answer you want—and from whom.”

  “I’ve been by your side all along.”

  Tuesday finally tightened the stitches holding her face in place, stood up on my collarbone, and kissed me on the lips. The doll quickly lost its structure and fell limp onto my lap.

  Rafe let out a pained sigh, brow furrowed. “Dealing with Residents is the most dangerous thing in the world. You’re not the first Hunter to be chosen by one. Want to know what happened to the others?”

  “I know exactly how I’ll end up.” I stroked the dog’s head. “Who am I? Where did I come from? Where am I going? I’ve got one answer now. I’ll find the other two at home. You’ll help me, won’t you?”

  “Oh God, of course I’ll help you… Which one do you think you’ve got already?” Rafe stood as he watched me tuck the bead into my omamori, then hesitated before sitting back down.

  “Hollowing will turn me into Tuesday. It’s just a matter of time. But the process won’t hurt—so it’s not that bad.” I stretched out my arms toward the dog, hoping he’d come back to nap with me. “Anyway, the Ainsworths don’t have any influence in China, right?”

  “Some business ties, but… no clade wants to develop in China.” Rafe’s gaze softened with something close to pity. “Residents of Nowhere are born from dead Hunters. The rate of natural-born Hunters is one in a hundred thousand. Even with only a twenty percent mortality rate, China’s population would make Nowhere a real nightmare.”

  I wondered what the Indian Nowhere must look like.

  “But the Collections in China are insanely abundant.” I thought of the files I’d seen at the bar and started salivating. “My dad alone handled over two hundred of them… Just one man!”

  “You think you’re the only one who knows that? Why do you think no one’s gone to China to cash in on it? Use your brain.” Rafe’s hand was on the dog’s rump—while mine was still petting Otto’s head. “Especially in the past ten years, with the rise of the internet, there’ve been all kinds of incidents. The danger level in China’s Nowhere isn’t even comparable to what you’ve been through. Even with Collections, Hunters can barely stay alive. Very few can survive without relying on them.”

  “And heavy use of Collections speeds up Hollowing… unless the Hunter is unusually strong.” I was starting to understand why Rafe dreaded China. “Or unless Nowhere shows them a little mercy.”

  Like Tuesday did for me.

  “China’s Hunters have one of the shortest professional lifespans in the world. Don’t think just because you’re Chinese, China’s going to go easy on you.”

  Damn, that makes so much terrifying sense. Just thinking about the kind of lives my freshly graduated classmates are living gives me the chills.

  “I don’t know what Tuesday means to you,” Rafe said, glancing at the cotton doll I’d placed back on the pillow. “But if she wants to do something in Nowhere, then you’ll have to face these issues. Your father was the most exceptional Hunter in the past ten years—the exception among exceptions—and even he didn’t live past forty.”

  “I get it. I’ll avoid entering Nowhere in China as much as I can. And if I have to go, I won’t drag you in with me.” I lay back down and tried to coax sleep. “Before I fall asleep, do you want to tell me what kind of positions the Ainsworth clade has?”

  Rafe frowned and stared at me for so long I started wondering if he was plotting something huge—or just debating whether to toss him out. But before I could decide, he let out a sigh, like he’d made up his mind, and began explaining the Ainsworth clade’s promotion hierarchy as he understood it.

  Predictably boring. I fell asleep quickly to the lullaby of clade organizational structures.