The Binding Vow of Lazarus

Chapter 57

The dungeon air clung thick with the scent of antiseptic and something older—something wrong. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting sterile white reflections across the rows of glass containers lining the wall. Inside each one, suspended in yellowed preservative, floated the shriveled forms of fetal remains—tiny limbs curled, faces blurred by time and twisted purpose.

Yuki Tsukumo stood with her arms crossed, studying them with detached curiosity. "So. You finally got enough people to use these on?"

Suguru's fingers brushed the glass of the nearest container, his reflection warping over the withered shape within. "I do."

Behind them, the sharp click of a tongue cut through the silence. Boe sat slumped in her chair, her back turned to them both, her knuckles white where they gripped the armrests. "You've lost your damn minds," she muttered.

Suguru didn't spare her a glance. "Call Lily to the dungeon," he said to Yuki, voice smooth. "It's time to awaken the Death Paintings."

Boe's chair creaked as she turned just enough to glare at him over her shoulder. Her eyes—sharp with a lifetime of seeing too much—burned with something beyond anger. Disappointment. Deep, weary, the kind that came from watching someone you once respected becoming a stranger.

Suguru met her stare, unflinching.

For a moment, neither moved.

Then Boe exhaled, turning away again. "Fine. Rot in hell, then."

Yuki smirked, already pulling out her phone. "Dramatic."

Suguru said nothing as he walked past Boe, their shoulders nearly brushing.

Her voice, low and frayed, followed him. "You used to care about the people who got caught in the crossfire."

Suguru paused. Then, without looking back: "And look where that got me."

The door shut behind him with a hollow click.

Boe was left alone with the glass and the dead and the weight of a future she no longer recognized.She pushed herself up from the chair with a wince, her body protesting every movement. The aftermath of her fight with Nanami still clung to her—bruises dark as storm clouds beneath her clothes, muscles pulled taut like overstrung wires. The healers here were passable, but none of them were Shoko. None of them could patch her up with that same careless precision, cigarette dangling from her lips as she scolded you for being reckless.

She exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders as she limped after Suguru and Yuki, keeping her distance but close enough to hear their murmured plans. The dungeon corridor stretched ahead, shadows pooling where the fluorescent lights flickered.

Boe already knew she'd regret this, but if they were really waking the Death Paintings, then a Kamo should be there. Not out of guilt or anything—she wasn't about to apologize for shit she didn't do—but because, twisted as it was, those curses were family in the most fucked-up way possible. Maybe they'd like someone who got them.

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until Suguru finally glanced back at her.

"How are you feeling?"

Boe's frown deepened. "Sore," she muttered.

Suguru's expression didn't change. "Would you like me to pick up some pain medicine?"