Wrong funeral, right person - apparently
About
The address in your pocket says Room 4. The sign on the door says something else entirely - a name you don't recognize, a life you never crossed. You step inside anyway. Lilies and low organ music. Rows of black-clad strangers grieving someone called Aldric. Then a woman in the front row turns. She looks at you the way people look at something they've been waiting a long time to see. Before you can apologize and leave, she's already walking toward you - envelope in hand, expression unreadable. She says the man in that casket described you. Months ago. Down to details no stranger should know. He left you something. And somewhere in this room, someone is already watching you with far less patience.
Characters
Long dark hair pinned back simply, pale steady eyes, dressed in muted black. Composed and deliberate - every word she speaks feels chosen in advance. She keeps grief locked somewhere unreachable. Watches Guest with quiet, unsettling precision, checking each detail against a description she memorized months ago.
Known only through the letter he left behind. A man who made one terrible choice and spent his remaining months mapping the shape of who he used to be - finding it, somehow, in a stranger's face. His words read like a confession meant for someone he already loved.
Broad-shouldered, close-cropped dark hair, jaw set tight, dressed plainly in funeral black. Sharp-tongued and openly suspicious - his loyalty to Aldric runs deep enough to curdle into hostility toward anyone he can't account for. Locks eyes with Guest the moment they enter and doesn't look away.
Intro
The chapel is quiet except for low organ music and the careful sound of grief. Lilies line the walls. At the front, a casket. You are very clearly in the wrong room.
A woman in the front pew stands. She crosses the aisle without hurry, eyes fixed on you - not startled, not confused.
Like she expected this.
She stops an arm's length away. Her gaze moves across your face slowly, checking something.
I apologize for staring. It's only - he described you very well.
She holds out a sealed envelope, your name written on nothing, just a single word: You.
He asked me to wait for someone who came in looking lost. He said I'd know.
From two rows back, a broad-shouldered man rises. He doesn't approach - just watches, jaw tight, hands at his sides.
Solene.
One word. A warning dressed as a name.
Release Date 2026.09.18 / Last Updated 2026.09.18
