Prologue: Rain over Kowan City
Kowan glows with neon, but that night, even those lights can’t cut the fog. The camera trails Nanase Mori, a seventeen-year-old transfer, her hair soaked as she jogs past half-lit alleys. She mutters, “I hate the rain.” Her words fade into the crash of police sirens. She freezes by the city river, eyes locking on a new flash of tape.
Act 1: Footsteps on the Glass Bridge
The city’s hottest unsolved crime—a string of deaths on the Lucid Glass Bridge, each body left with a tarot card. Rumors circle with kids at school: ‘It’s a curse’, ‘Some phantom stalks the bridge’. But Nanase’s not scared. Her father vanished solving this case. She can’t let it drop, not with her family still haunted.
In Detective Class the next day, Jean Taira, a clever girl with blue streaks in her hair, whispers, “When are you gonna poke around? Cops won’t talk, why not go direct?” Nanase nods. Those were Dad’s words, too.
Ryoma Kazehaya, school’s chess ace and mild hacker, joins her at lunch. He mutters behind smashed glasses, “You aren’t planning to walk the bridge, right? The machines there still record everything, but…” His voice drops off. Why don’t they ever catch it on film?
Act 2: Chasing Shadows
Night falls fast. Nanase waits until her uncle, a tired, sharp police handle, leaves for work. Sliding out, phone ready, she marches to the bridge. She pauses. Fog is thick again. Big mistake? But Dad was here once. She needs a reason to keep trusting him.
Out on the glass, footsteps echo. A slip of silver flashes at her feet—the Seven of Swords. She’s dizzy with fright and hope. “What are you trying to tell us?!” The mist coils. A shadow moves on the far end. She runs, fumbles her phone. The figure’s tall. She glimpses sharp fingers—blades for nails? Who keeps turning up with the same card? Do secrets always want out or to stay shut tight?
Act 3: Strings and Lies
School again, rain again. Jean corners her over soggy toast, stares at the card. “It’s hand-cut. Someone makes these with care,” Jean says. Ryoma texts: he analyzed bridge’s newest security logs. No one else showed at the hour Nanase recorded.
She’s not deterred. Coffee is bitter as she storms Kowan’s smallest occult shop, pushing past dangling beads. The owner, Mr. Murakami, leans close. “The bridge isn’t cursed. Someone uses the story to cover tracks. See, tarot rules claim the Seven—lying, swiping, acting sly. Do you read tarot for fear, or to find the one who’s hiding?” The question rings in Nanase’s mind.
Act 4: Across the Divide
Jean sets a meeting on the bridge: “Sunrise. We see for ourselves.” Together at 4 a.m., they watch shadows shift, not trusting each other or themselves.
On the edge of the last span, a pile of empty soda cans glints. Ryoma’s latest chess puzzle sits beside it; he scrawled a warning across its top: ‘Don’t blink.’ Nanase shudders. She starts—there’s a faint tapping near the safety barrier. She turns, raising her phone. Wind. Footsteps. Then a message buzzes. ‘Just missed you.—Dad’. She doubts her eyes. Ghost? Or hacker scam? Why won’t the truth fit the city’s script?
Act 5: Unmasked, Unsolved
The trio meet at Jean’s apartment, dog-tired but alive. Ryoma draws out CCTV frame graphs. There is something weird: a gap, two minutes gone at three a.m. Multiple tapes. Each fade lines up with each bridge case. Jean: “Either it’s staff or they bribe god.”
Nanase laughs—a little wild, a little threadbare. “Or it’s someone who pays attention when the rest of us look away.” Outside rain beats like heart drums. Someone’s hiding in plain sight. She vows to stay. Jean tightens her grip on the card. Ryoma taps a digitized chess piece over a notebook map. “Next time it rains, we’ll leave a piece for them. See if the real player moves.”
Cliffhanger: Eyes Above the City
On a blank rooftop, a dark figure stacks more tarot cards. Screen flickers, deck spreads—Seven of Swords lies in the middle. Down below, cars stroke through glass puddles. Nanase’s phone buzzes again: a short video this time, hinting at her father’s voice through distortion.
Do you think the truth is closer than anyone dreams? Or is every secret a dare to chase after nightfall?
That ends the first sweep of the Obsidian Files arc.
