David Lee stood motionless in the moonlit courtyard long after Eleanor had stormed off. The night wind whispered through the bamboo stalks lining the garden's edge, carrying with it fragments of something... familiar.
There it was again—that hum.
A low, vibrating frequency pulsing through the marrow of his bones. It wasn't natural. It wasn't human. It was something else. Something embedded inside him.
He rose slowly, eyes scanning the shadows. The Lee estate was quiet now, except for the distant murmur of the night guards and the soft clink of crystal glasses from the drawing room where the rest of the family had resumed their celebration of themselves.
He took a deep breath, then walked toward the far end of the garden where a crumbling stone lantern stood half-buried in moss. He'd noticed it weeks ago, oddly out of place. He crouched and brushed his fingers over the carvings on its base.
Not Chinese.
Not Japanese.
Not any language he recognized.
But his fingers knew it.
They traced a pattern on their own, like muscle memory taking over, and the stone clicked.
A small panel slid open, revealing a hollow compartment. Inside lay a strange object—smooth, oval, metallic black. A small orb the size of a plum.
David reached out—then paused.
Suddenly, he heard it.
Footsteps. Light, quick, and too deliberate to be a family member.
His eyes sharpened. Someone else was here.
He closed the panel, stood, and turned.
A figure darted behind the garden wall—fast, but not fast enough.
David moved. Not ran—moved. Silent as smoke.
In seconds, he was on the other side of the garden. His eyes narrowed. Nothing.
Then—a whisper behind him.
"Still slow, Agent D."
David spun around, palm striking where the voice came from—but there was no one.
"Who are you?" he called into the shadows.
Silence.
Then, a soft laugh echoed through the trees.
"Not yet," the voice said. "But soon. You're waking up. We'll speak when you're ready."
And then, it was gone. The presence. The voice. The feeling of being watched.
David stood alone again, his pulse steady, but his mind racing.
Agent D.
The same name from the vision.
He clenched his fists. Somewhere out there, someone knew who he was—what he was.
And whatever was inside that lantern… wasn't ordinary.
---
Back in the main house, Eleanor was still fuming.
She sat in her vanity chair, removing her earrings with sharp, angry movements. Her phone buzzed. A message from her cousin, Felix:
"Why not divorce him already? He's a deadweight."
She stared at the screen, hesitated… then typed:
"I can't. Grandmother's will."
Felix replied almost instantly:
"She's been gone a year. Who's going to stop you?"
Eleanor didn't respond.
Because the truth was, she was afraid. Not of David—but of the way her grandmother had looked at him during the wedding. The way she whispered that cryptic phrase:
"He is the key, Eleanor. The lock is your blood. Don't lose him. Or you'll lose everything."
Back then, Eleanor thought it was senile talk. Now… she wasn't so sure.
---
That night, David stood before the mirror in the tiny guest room he was given. He stared at himself—not with doubt, but with curiosity.
"Who are you?" he whispered.
Then he closed his eyes—and focused.
For the first time in months, he let the energy inside him move freely.
The hum returned. The buzzing. The flickers of light behind his eyelids.
And just for a second—he saw his reflection smile.
But he hadn't.