The house was quiet again. Too quiet.
Melinda sat alone in the living room, the shadows long, her hands clasped tightly as if she were afraid to let go of something she could no longer hold.
Then the air shifted.
Softly—almost like a breath—warmth brushed her shoulder.
"Melinda…"
The voice was faint, fragile, and impossibly familiar.
Melinda looked up, eyes widening as Miyu's spirit appeared before her—translucent, glowing faintly with a pale, silver light. Her expression was gentle, calm… freer than it had ever been in life.
"Miyu…?" Melinda whispered, standing slowly. "I—I thought you moved on."
"I wanted to," Miyu said, her voice echoing like a distant memory. "But I can't. Not yet."
Melinda took a step toward her, heart aching. "Why?"
Miyu lowered her gaze, quiet for a long moment before she spoke again.
"Because I wasn't the only one."
Melinda froze.
"There are more children," Miyu said softly. "Just like me. Experiments. Scattered… hidden… afraid." Her voice wavered, but she held Melinda's gaze. "Some are running. Some are still trapped. All of them are suffering."
A cold dread settled into Melinda's stomach.
"Miyu… how many?"
The spirit shook her head. "I don't know. But enough."
Her glowing hand drifted to Melinda's chest, hovering just above her heart.
"You were the first person who ever saw me as more than a monster."
Tears blurred Melinda's vision.
"I trust you," Miyu whispered. "Find them. Protect them. Give them the life I never had."
Melinda swallowed hard. "I will. I promise."
A soft, relieved smile touched Miyu's lips—small and fragile, but full of hope.
"Thank you… Melinda."
Her form flickered, light drifting away like ash carried on a breeze.
"Miyu—wait—!"
"I'll be watching," the fading voice whispered. "You won't be alone."
And just like that, she was gone.
The room fell silent again.
Melinda pressed a hand to her heart, steadying her breath as the weight of a new mission settled upon her shoulders—one that Miyu had entrusted her with.
A mission that was only beginning.