Chapter 26 · Her Father Is Still in the Line

The thread in Rin's palm is fraying.

She can feel it unraveling, strand by strand, like wet silk tearing under its own weight. It's thin as a fishing line, cold as wire, and it's the only thing connecting her to her father right now. The auction hall is gone. The soul-record is gone. She's standing in a place that isn't a place, all white noise and static, and the thread is the only thing that feels real.

She wraps it around her wrist. Twice. It bites into her skin.

"Dad," she says, and her voice comes out flat, like the air here swallows sound before it can travel. "Dad, I know you're in there."

Nothing.

She pulls the thread taut. It hums, vibrates, and then—

A jolt. Not pain. Worse. Recognition.

Something on the other end pulls back.

Rin's heart kicks hard against her ribs. She yanks the thread again, harder this time, and the static around her flickers. For half a second she sees a shape. A man. Slumped. Hands bound. His head is down, and his hair is longer than she remembers, greasy and matted, like he hasn't seen daylight in weeks.

"Dad.