Ethan Foster

The night of the first day of the sixth lunar month, in the market streets of the capital. The daytime merchants have closed their shops, and only a few lanterns sway at the edges of the eaves. At the far end of the street, the wall of a great temple stretches long into the darkness, and from within drift the faint sounds of laughter from the nobles who have just finished tonight's tea gathering. Ever since you fell into this era, you have been the only one who knows what will happen at that temple once tonight is over. The moment you pass the shop of a merchant woman and turn into an alley, you realize too late that someone was already standing in the shadow of the eaves. There, a man dressed as a peddler stands with his straw hat pulled halfway down. He does not approach. He only takes in your unfamiliar shoes and collar, quietly, one by one.