Geography lesson time.
Ghost Island—or more accurately, the northern peninsula that everyone called Ghost Island—had three major settlements. East Town, where Liam was currently staying, served as the tourist hub. It had the amusement park, the hotels, the overpriced restaurants, all the infrastructure you'd expect from a place trying to separate families from their money.
West Town, on the opposite coast, was different. Quieter. Older. The kind of place that looked like it had been there for fifty years and would be there for fifty more, stubbornly refusing to modernize. No amusement parks. No neon lights. Just docks, warehouses, and the kind of small businesses that serviced fishing boats and cargo ships.
And in between? The Misery Moon Tiger Reserve, managed by Blanchett Company, covering about ninety percent of the island's interior.
North of everything was the cruise ship. The crime scene. The place where Liam's second life had technically started.
And now two separate government agencies are investigating it, Liam thought grimly, watching through the green bird's eyes as the off-road vehicles bumped along the unpaved coastal road. Fantastic. Just what I needed.
The two vehicles finally rolled into West Town after what must have been an uncomfortable hour of driving on roads that were more "suggestions" than actual pavement. The bird on the rear vehicle's roof clung tight, buffeted by wind and dust, as the convoy came to a stop outside a small hotel.
Through the bird's eyes, Liam watched as doors opened and people climbed out.
Slohe emerged first from the lead vehicle—the balding man from the beach, now looking even more exhausted. He touched his sparse hair with one hand and pulled his windbreaker tighter with the other, like he was trying to hold himself together through sheer willpower.
Kanzai hopped out of the passenger seat. Short with spiky hair dyed yellow with black highlights. He looked like what would happen if you gave a hyperactive teenager a Hunter License and zero adult supervision.
The rear vehicle disgorged its passengers: Shizuku and three other suited figures, all looking professionally nondescript in the way that screamed "temporary hires."
They started walking toward the hotel entrance.
And then Kanzai stopped.
He turned around, staring directly at the roof of the rear vehicle.
Oh shit, Liam thought.
Through the bird's perception, he felt Kanzai's gaze like a physical weight. The man wasn't using Gyo—no aura concentration in his eyes—but his instincts were good. Predator-sharp.
"Is there something?" Shizuku asked, following his gaze.
"It's a bird," Kanzai said casually. "There was a bird on that ship earlier. When we got in the vehicles, it landed on this roof. Been there the whole drive."
Shizuku blinked behind her glasses. "Really?"
"There were two birds on the rocks near the ship," one of the other Hunters confirmed. "I remember seeing them."
Of course you do, Liam thought, already commanding the bird to launch itself off the roof. Because I got sloppy. Because I thought I was being clever.
The bird took flight, wings beating hard, disappearing into the darkness before anyone could get a good look at it.
Below, the group was still talking.
"It's just a coincidence," someone said.
"Didn't the other bird disappear? This one flew away too."
"Birds fly. That's what they do."
Kanzai made a noncommittal sound and turned back toward the hotel. The group filed inside, still murmuring to each other.
Liam guided the bird in a wide circle, then brought it down on the opposite side of the hotel's roof—close enough to watch the entrance, far enough to avoid immediate suspicion.
That was too close, he thought. Kanzai's good. Better than he acts. The whole 'dumb enthusiastic guy' routine is either genuine or a really good cover.
Note to self: Don't underestimate the short man with terrible hair.
Inside the hotel—not that Liam could see this—the group gathered in Slohe's room.
Slohe loosened his tie, looking at the assembled amateur Hunters with the expression of a man who'd accepted that his life was now a series of bad decisions.
"I'm predicting that Blanchett Company won't let us into the reserve easily," he said. "They'll stall. Make excuses. Wait for Kakin officials to file protests. We might not even get access until the twenty-day agreement is almost up." He paused. "That's why I need you. Tomorrow, I'll negotiate as the official representative. Keep them busy. Distracted. Meanwhile, you conduct the actual investigation."
Shizuku raised her hand. "What exactly are we investigating?"
"The Misery Moon Tigers?" one of the other Hunters suggested. "That's the whole reason the reserve exists, right?"
"Are we catching tigers?" Shizuku asked, perking up. "I heard they're beautiful. I want to see one."
Slohe sighed. "We're investigating because we don't know what's here. But if I had to give one reason—" He leaned forward, voice dropping. "We want to know why the Kakin royal family has been so secretive about this island for the past thirty years."
There was a moment of silence as that sank in.
"Thirty years?" someone repeated.
"Thirty years," Slohe confirmed. "This island has been disputed territory since before most of you were born. And Kakin has fought hard to keep control of it. Not through military force—they can't, not without triggering a diplomatic crisis—but through legal pressure, financial influence, and sheer stubborn refusal to negotiate."
He gestured to the window, toward the dark forest beyond. "So yes. We're investigating the tigers. We're investigating Blanchett Company. We're investigating whatever the hell Kakin is hiding out there. Because something about this place is worth thirty years of political maneuvering."
Liam, perched on the hotel roof through the bird's eyes, didn't hear any of this.
But he could guess.
Kakin's been obsessed with this island for thirty years. The cauliflower hair dude, probably one of first prince Benjamin personal force, Babimyna and his team are here investigating something. Slohe's team is here investigating the same thing, just from the opposite angle.
And I'm sitting in the middle of it like an idiot, hoping no one connects the dots between 'mysterious dead woman on cruise ship' and 'weird kid with fraudulent Hunter License.'
He wanted to laugh. Or scream. Possibly both.
I've been in this world for less than a week and I'm already caught in an international incident.
The other green bird, still hidden in the woods near the cruise ship on the north coast, remained motionless. Watching. Waiting.
Babimyna's group was still on board, conducting their search. Their En had withdrawn, but Liam could see flashlight beams moving through the cabin windows.
They're being thorough, he thought. But they won't find the bodies. I dumped them in the ocean. And the two I buried—godmother and her bodyguard—are far inland, marked only by burned grass.
Even Neferpitou's En couldn't sense underground, he reasoned. And Babimyna's nowhere near that level. He's good, but he's not Royal Guard-tier.
Probably.
Hopefully.
God, I really need to stop making assumptions about power scaling in a world where humans can punch through steel.
Back in East Town, Liam's physical body finally gave up on staying awake.
He'd been maintaining first-person control over both green birds for hours. His consciousness split between three locations: his human body in the hotel room, one bird in West Town, one bird on the north coast.
And the problem was this: if he released control and switched the birds to autopilot, they'd immediately execute their standing orders.
"If humans approach, peck yourself to trigger the Star Mark's healing function and alert me."
Which meant the moment he let go, both birds would start aggressively self-harming to get his attention.
Great design, Liam, he thought bitterly. Really thought that one through.
So he had to stay connected. Possessing both birds. Keeping them idle and unobtrusive.
While his main body tried to sleep.
The result was exactly as pleasant as it sounded. His sleep was fractured, shallow, full of disjointed images of moonlit forests and hotel rooftops. He'd jolt half-awake, realize he was still maintaining the birds, and sink back into a restless doze.
Jaku, curled up on the sheets beside him, slept peacefully. No split consciousness for her. Just dreams of food and pecking people's eyes out.
I hate you, Liam thought affectionately.
Morning came too soon.
Liam dragged himself to the bathroom, turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water on his face. His reflection looked back at him: five-year-old kid with dark circles under his eyes and hair sticking up in every direction.
I look like a zombie, he thought. A very small, very tired zombie.
Jaku fluttered over and started attacking his toothbrush, apparently under the impression it was a threat.
"Stop that," Liam said, gently shooing her away. She pecked his finger in retaliation.
"You're awful," he told her. "The worst bird. I should have marked a nice bird. A polite bird."
She chirped smugly.
"Yeah, yeah. Come on. Breakfast time."
The mention of food immediately transformed her from "feral gremlin" to "adorable pet." She landed on his shoulder, nuzzling his cheek.
Mercenary little beast, Liam thought. I respect that.
After breakfast—and after feeding Jaku enough birdseed that she looked like she might explode—Liam bought supplies. A lot of them. Cooked meat, dried fish, some kind of local jerky that smelled questionable but was on sale.
Then he headed into the forest.
He could sense the two white birds through their Star Marks—active, mobile, circling somewhere northeast of town. And through them, he could sense Lumos.
The big blue murder cat.
His friend.
God, I've been in this world for five days and my best friend is a tiger, Liam thought. That's either really sad or really cool. Possibly both.
He found Lumos lying under a tree in a sun-dappled clearing, looking like a very large, very deadly house cat taking a nap.
The moment Lumos saw him, the tiger surged to his feet—
Oh no—
—and pounced.
Liam went down like he'd been hit by a truck. Because he had been hit by a truck. A 700-kilogram truck with fur.
"Oof! Okay! Hi! Yes, I missed you too—get off, you're crushing me—"
Lumos made a sound somewhere between a purr and a rumble, nuzzling Liam's face with enough force to knock his head sideways.
"Seriously, I can't breathe—"
The tiger stepped back, tail swishing, looking absurdly pleased with himself.
Liam sat up, grinning despite the bruises he could already feel forming. "Good to see you too, big guy."
He pulled out the bags of meat. "Want some treats? Yeah? Sit."
Lumos immediately sat, eyes locked on the food.
700 kilograms of apex predator, Liam thought, and he's got the food motivation of a golden retriever.
He spread the meat out on the grass. Lumos dove in, tearing into the cooked flesh with enthusiasm.
While the tiger ate, Liam ran his hand through the fur on the back of Lumos's neck, feeling the Star Mark there—dormant, barely perceptible.
And he thought about his ability.
Shepherd's Song.
His Nen ability. Manipulation-type. Control over anything marked with his star mark.
It had three modes:
First-Person/Full Possession - His consciousness inhabits the target's body completely. The target's mind is suppressed, unconscious, basically asleep.
Third-Person/Remote Control - The target moves like a video game character. Liam commands from a distance, but doesn't experience their senses directly.
Voice Command - Verbal orders. The target obeys. Commands queue up without overwriting each other.
But there was a problem.
The modes are rigid, Liam thought, stroking Lumos's fur. Once I set a command in third-person or voice mode, I can't just take over manually without canceling everything. And if I possess something in first-person mode, the target's consciousness is completely suppressed—they don't experience anything. It's like putting them in a coma.
What if I could...
An idea formed.
What if I could possess them in first-person mode, but NOT suppress their consciousness completely? Let them be aware. Let them see and feel, but not control.
A spectator mode. Where they're locked in their own body, watching, but I'm the one driving.
It would be more complex. More difficult to maintain. But it would also give him information. He could sense what the target was feeling—fear, confusion, resistance. He could use their instincts as a guide.
And maybe, maybe, it would make the control more efficient. Less like puppeteering a corpse, more like cooperating with a living being.
Time to experiment, he decided.
He looked at Lumos, still happily destroying a slab of meat.
"Hey, big guy. I need your help with something."
Lumos paused, looking up.
"I'm going to try modifying the Star Mark. It might feel weird. But you trust me, right?"
The tiger tilted his head.
He has no idea what I'm saying, Liam thought. But he trusts me anyway. Which is either sweet or depressing.
"Okay. On the count of three, I'm going to take control. One... two—"
He pushed his consciousness forward on "two," not "three," because he was a liar.
[LUMOS'S PERSPECTIVE]
The world went dark.
Not dark like closing your eyes. Dark like nothing. Like falling into a hole with no bottom.
Consciousness—his consciousness, the thing that made him Lumos—was suddenly compressed, squeezed, pushed down into the smallest, deepest corner of his own mind.
Time stopped meaning anything. There was no sight, no sound, no smell. Just... nothing.
And then—
Light.
A crack in the darkness. Thin at first, like the edge of a door opening. And through that crack, moonlight. Silver and cold and beautiful.
Moon, some part of him thought. I know moon. Moon is good.
The crack widened. The darkness peeled back.
And suddenly, he could see again.
The forest. The human cub standing in front of him. The half-eaten meat on the ground.
But his body didn't move. He tried to lift a paw—couldn't. Tried to turn his head—couldn't. Tried to make a sound—
Nothing.
He was trapped in his own body, watching through his own eyes, but unable to do anything.
Panic spiked—
And then the human cub's voice echoed in his mind, warm and excited and there:
"Ha! Yes! It worked! Lumos, can you hear me? If you can hear me, try to... I don't know, think loudly?"
Lumos thought: HUMAN CUB. STUCK. HELP.
The voice in his head laughed. "Okay, good! You're aware! That's perfect! Don't panic, I'm going to let go in a second—"
[LIAM'S PERSPECTIVE]
Liam released the possession and stumbled backward, gasping.
It worked.
It actually worked.
He could feel it—the moment when Lumos's consciousness had started to push back through the suppression. Not fighting the control, but coexisting with it. Aware but passive. A spectator in his own body.
Shepherd's Song is still developing, Liam thought, grinning despite his exhaustion. It's not a fixed ability. It's still plastic. Still evolving.
Which means I can keep modifying it. Keep adding features. Keep optimizing.
Lumos shook himself, looking dazed but unharmed. He stared at Liam with an expression that might have been confusion or accusation.
"Sorry," Liam said. "But hey! New trick! Aren't you proud of me?"
Lumos made a sound that was definitely not approval.
"Yeah, okay. I'll buy you more meat."
That got a more positive reaction.
Liam sat down heavily, mind racing.
This changes everything. If I can keep targets conscious while controlling them, I can use their instincts. Their knowledge. Their reactions. It's not just puppeteering anymore—it's collaboration.
Forced, unethical, definitely-a-war-crime collaboration. But still.
He looked at his hand, where a faint shimmer of aura pooled in his palm.
"Shepherd's Song," he murmured. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"
Jaku landed on his head, pecking his scalp.
"Ow! What was that for?"
She chirped, as if to say, For being weird again.
"Fair enough."
Liam lay back in the grass, staring up at the canopy. Lumos finished his meat and padded over, lying down beside him with a heavy thud that shook the ground.
I need to keep developing this, Liam thought. Test the limits. Figure out how much control I can give back without losing the Mark's grip.
But for now...
He closed his eyes.
For now, I'm just going to lie here with my giant tiger friend and pretend my life isn't a complete disaster.
Lumos rumbled—a deep, contented sound.
Yeah, Liam thought. That works.