A Guest Who Was Not Invited

By morning, the crack in the seal had not grown, which Mei Lian chose to take as a good sign, even though nothing about the voice from the night before had sounded like it planned on staying quiet.

She brought rice and tea to the shrine out of habit more than duty. The moment she set the tray down, the crack in the door pulsed faintly gold, and the voice returned, closer now.

"A pact needs two names," it said. "Mine was carved in blood seven centuries ago. Yours is still empty."

Mei Lian did not look up from pouring the tea. "I don't recall agreeing to anything."

"No," the voice agreed, sounding delighted. "That's rather the problem."

[Placeholder chapter — replace with your own translated content.]