PROLOGUE

The Curiosity Shop

Akane had no idea where the package had come from.

One minute she’d been downstairs in the furo, soaking away the bitter December cold, the next, she’d come back to find a glossy white box sitting in the middle of her bed, as if it had always been there.

There had been no note. No explanation. No challenge letter.

Just a box.

Akane wasn’t normally the suspicious type, but she hadn’t exactly rushed to open it, either.

Ever since Jusendo and the disastrous wedding, Ranma’s fan club had been louder and far more creative in reminding Akane exactly how they felt about her engagement to Ranma. Knowing her luck, it probably contained a cursed charm, a rose-petal bomb, or a bloody letter warning her off.

So Akane had done the sensible thing.

She’d shoved the mystery box into her wardrobe and vowed to ask Kasumi about it in the morning. No way was she going to risk Ranma’s admirers ruining a perfectly good day!

And somehow, against all odds, it had been a good day.

With Aunt Nodoka out visiting friends, Happosai off tormenting their fathers on another training trip, and no unwanted admirers dropping by, the house had been unusually quiet. Akane had finished her Christmas shopping early, helped Kasumi bake a cake that only made them slightly nauseous, and had barely argued with Ranma at all, despite nearly poisoning him.

To top it off, P-Chan had wandered back after disappearing for weeks.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Akane had ended the day with almost nothing to complain about.

“I’d better be careful, P-Chan,” she’d murmured, scratching behind his ears. “I could get used to this.”

Curled against her chest, the little pig had snorted enthusiastically, as though understanding every word she said.

Smiling, Akane settled deeper beneath the blankets, warmth pooling around her as the winter wind rattled faintly somewhere beyond the house.

It had been a rare, peaceful day, and as sleep crept closer, she couldn’t help but hope the night would be just as sweet.

* * *

The first thing Akane noticed was the cold beneath her bare feet.

When she opened her eyes, she found herself standing under a moonless sky in the middle of an abandoned street festival. The air lacked the usual sharp bite of December, but her loose pajamas left her arms and legs exposed to the night’s chill, and she shivered.

What was this place?

For several disorienting seconds, Akane simply looked around, trying to understand how she’d gotten here. She couldn’t remember leaving her room. And yet… this didn’t feel like a dream.

Cold pavement pressed against her feet, the night air brushed her skin, and her heart pounded hard enough to make her chest ache.

It all felt impossibly real.

Overhead, old festival lamps hummed softly, casting weak pools of light across damp flyers, abandoned booths, and windblown trash. Paper decorations stirred faintly where there was barely any wind to move them, and the air smelled of stale grease, wet cardboard, and spoiled food that had baked too long under carnival lights.

Nothing about the festival looked as if it had ever been filled with people. Not recently. Time seemed to have settled over it like dust, leaving it not just abandoned, but forgotten.

Akane wrapped her arms around herself. Every instinct told her to leave, but she had no idea where to go.

“Hello?” The slight shiver in her voice betrayed her before she’d even finished the word. “Is anyone out there?”

No one answered. Her voice disappeared into the long and empty street, swallowed by a silence so complete it seemed to press in from every direction.

Akane wrapped her arms around herself.

She hated places like this—places that were dark, empty, and wrong. They belonged in ghost stories and terrible horror movies, not real life.

She missed her bed. She missed P-Chan.

She even missed Ranma.

If he were here, the dummy would make some crack about her jumping at shadows, brag that he wasn’t scared of some dumb haunted carnival, and tell her to quit worrying. She’d roll her eyes, he’d call her a scaredy-cat, and somehow the silence wouldn’t feel nearly as stifling.

Then again, if he was hiding behind one of these booths, waiting to scare her, she was going to kill him.

As if in answer, something shifted behind one of the stalls.

Akane spun toward the sound, but found only hanging canvas and narrow aisles thick with shadow.

Then came a noise.

Low. Guttural. Like several voices trying to shape words with mouths that didn’t quite remember how.

Akane went still.

The sound drifted from somewhere deeper within the festival—gravelly murmurs, broken syllables, almost human but somehow not.

This time, it took several seconds before she found her voice. Her mouth had gone dry, and the words came out smaller than she’d intended.

“H-Hello?” she called again.

The murmuring stopped.

Silence settled over the festival so completely that even the buzzing lights overhead seemed to fade. Then, from opposite sides of the road, shadows began moving between the booths. One, then another, then too many to count.

Akane’s stomach tightened as the strange whispers began again, closer this time. It drifted between the empty stalls, rising and falling just beyond her hearing. She couldn’t make out any words, yet every so often something familiar slipped through the noise. A laugh. A sharp intake of breath. Once, she could have sworn she heard her own name.

The shadows weren’t staying in one place anymore.

Movement flickered from opposite ends of the street. One shape slipped between the booths to her left, another crossed somewhere behind her.

Cold prickled across her skin.

They were surrounding her.

As a trained martial artist, Akane knew when to stand her ground and when to retreat.

She ran.

Bare feet struck cracked pavement, and sharp stones and grit bit into her soles with every step. She barely felt it. Akane had no idea where she was going, but every instinct screamed for her to move.

The voices followed, their guttural murmurs breaking apart into sounds that almost resembled words as abandoned booths streaked past beneath the dim lights.

Then something caught her eye.

One of the festival stalls stood apart from the rest. Unlike the others, its striped canopy remained intact, and faded painted symbols dangled from the sign above its canvas-covered entrance.

A warm light glowed from within.

Akane didn’t hesitate.

She ducked through the entrance before fear or common sense could convince her otherwise, praying the shadows wouldn’t follow.

The air changed the instant she crossed the threshold.

Cedar. Dust. Old books.

The cramped canvas walls had vanished, and in their place stood an old curiosity shop, its towering bookshelves crammed with clocks, masks, mirrors, antique toys, strange board games, and more oddities than she could count.

Akane stared.

This wasn’t a festival booth at all.

She turned toward the entrance she’d just come through, only to find an ordinary wooden door with a little brass bell hanging above it. The deserted street and creeping shadows had vanished.

Oh. This was a dream, then.

Her shoulders sagged with relief.

“So,” said a voice behind her, smooth with amusement, “you seem lost.”

Akane nearly jumped out of her skin.

Turning sharply toward the voice, she found herself face to face with a boy she was certain she’d never seen before.

She would have remembered him.

The first thing she noticed was his eyes. They were an impossible shade of blue, vivid enough to make even Ranma’s seem ordinary.

They held her attention just long enough for the rest of him to come into focus. Snow-white hair framed a face that looked no older than her own, while the rest of him was dressed entirely in black. Tight leather pants and a sleeveless vest gave him the appearance of someone who cared more about looking dramatic than staying warm.

Then her attention caught on his arm.

Dark, rune-like markings curled across the bare skin. They shifted so subtly she couldn’t tell whether the movement came from the light… or from the markings themselves.

“Well?” he asked again, faint laughter threading through his voice.

Heat rushed to Akane’s face as she realized she’d been staring.

“Sorry,” she blurted. She scrambled for an excuse, unwilling to step back outside just yet. Even if this was a dream, she had a feeling the shadows were still out there, watching and waiting. “I was just… browsing.”

“Browsing?” he echoed, leaning casually against the table. A smile tugged at his mouth as his gaze drifted pointedly downward. “You don’t seem particularly dressed for it.”

Akane frowned, puzzled for only a moment before following his gaze.

Bare feet. Thin cotton pajamas.

Right.

Heat rushed to her cheeks.

“Not that I’m complaining,” he added with a soft laugh. “The ruffles are surprisingly cute.”

His gaze lingered just a little too easily.

“Actually…” She cleared her throat, deciding it was probably time to leave. “If you could point me to an exit, maybe one in the back, that would be great. I’m trying to get home but I think I’m being followed.”

Yes, that was simpler.

It was easier than explaining disappearing festivals and wandering shadows.

Besides, standing beneath warm lamplight, surrounded by the scent of old books and the steady ticking of clocks, the terror that had driven her through the festival moments ago was already fading.

To her relief, the boy didn’t question her story.

Instead, he leaned forward, and for a brief, unsettling instant, the electric blue of his eyes seemed almost to glow.

“Trying to get home?” he repeated softly. “I think I know exactly what you need.”

Before Akane could ask what he meant, he crouched behind the counter and reached beneath it.

A glossy white box rested in his hands.

Smooth-edged and instantly familiar.

It was the same box she’d found sitting on her bed that morning.

Akane stared. For an instant, everything else fell away. The deserted festival. The creeping shadows. The impossible shop.

Somehow, seeing the box here unsettled her more than any of it. It should have been back in her room, shoved deep inside her wardrobe.

“Why do you have that?” she asked, taking an involuntary step back.

“You said you needed help getting home.” He extended the box toward her. “This is your answer.”

Every instinct she possessed recoiled. The same instinct that warned her of unstable footing, concealed attacks, and hidden traps was screaming at her not to touch it.

Which was ridiculous.

It was a box.

A plain, harmless-looking box.

Still, she hesitated. Torn between logic and instinct.

“If you’re too afraid to open it, just say so,” he said, setting it casually on the counter as though it made no difference to him. “It’s your choice.”

“I’m not afraid,” Akane shot back, the words leaving her mouth before she’d fully thought them through.

Actually, she was.

But she wasn’t about to let some smug stranger think a stupid box had scared her. Not while he stood there watching her hesitate. His gaze never wavered, and the faint smile tugging at his lips only made her want to prove him wrong.

Tightening her jaw, Akane stepped forward and pulled the box closer before she could second-guess herself.

Nothing happened.

It was cool and perfectly ordinary beneath her fingers.

See?

Just a box.

Feeling utterly ridiculous, Akane slid the lid upward. As it shifted, the boy reached out as though to steady it, his fingers gliding lightly across hers in a touch that was far too deliberate to be accidental.

Before she could pull away, agony exploded through her hand.

A violent surge shot up her arm and burst behind her eyes, tearing the box from her grasp.

“See you soon, Akane,” he said.

His voice seemed to come from impossibly far away as the shop dissolved into blinding white light.

When the light finally receded, Akane jerked awake in her own bed.

Everything was exactly as she’d left it. The familiar walls. The warmth of her blankets. P-Chan, still asleep beside her on the pillow. Beyond the window, the last of the winter night lingered over Nerima.

“What a strange dream,” she muttered, pushing herself upright with a weary stretch.

Already, it was slipping away.

She could still recall scattered fragments. Whispering shadows. An impossibly large shop. A beautiful boy with eyes too blue to be real. Every time she reached for the details, they dissolved before she could make sense of them, leaving behind only a lingering unease.

Something felt… off.

Frowning, Akane shifted beneath her blankets and became aware of an unexpected weight resting across her legs.

She glanced down.

A glossy white box rested at the foot of her bed, its lid slightly askew.

She stared.

That was odd. She was certain she’d shoved it into her wardrobe early that morning. Had she taken it back out in her sleep?

Unable to think of any other explanation, she crawled to the end of the bed and picked it up, turning it over in her hands as though it might reveal how it had gotten there.

The lid shifted further beneath her thumb.

She couldn’t remember why she’d been so reluctant to open it. Whatever had frightened her in the dream had already begun to fade, leaving behind only a dull curiosity.

Akane lifted the lid.

Inside, nestled in black velvet, lay a beautifully crafted board game.

END OF PROLOGUE