His blood.

“She cannot leave the Menagerie alive. That is an order.”

“I…I don’t…”

“Runner Chang, you were given an order.”

“I’ve secured her, Ma’am. I can take her in alive. We can put her in Eustachia.”

“Where she will promptly be executed.”

“What about an interrogation? We can get information out of her.” His lips were moving faster than his mind. This must be how Jin Yurinhalt felt, he realised. “What about pledging the Lethe? I’ve seen her fight, she’s got to be First Rank at minimum!”

“Chang.” Her voice softened. It wasn’t something he ever expected; to hear a tinge of compassion from her. That terrified him. “I know how hard it is to kill a sister. Even one you barely know. But she has seen too much and she’s too dangerous. Letting her leave alive, even in chains, compromises the safety of innocents.”

Chang was silent. He glanced back to check on Mei. She had her back to him, leaning against one of the sofas. Her breathing was laboured and interspersed with coughs.

“So it’s true then,” he said.

“What is?”

“She’s my sister. I used to be Tang Lu Kai.”

A pause. “Yes.”

“I was a member of the Homunculi Liberation Front. That’s why I had to drink from the river.”

“Yes.”

“Did I hurt people?”

The Princep’s silence was all the answer he needed. Hannibal Chang removed his pistol and levelled it at the back of Mei’s head. He thought she was just catching her breath, but she was actually gazing at a painting on the wall.

It took him a second to realise it was a flower. The oil paint was slathered on the canvas with seemingly no thought to any plan. The choice of colour was baffling; multiple streaks of blues and yellows and magentas all clashing for his attention. He couldn’t even tell what flower it was. The petals were drawn so poorly, they eluded all shape.

Her eyes never left the artwork. “So you’ve made your choice.”

“What did you think was going to happen? That I’d come back with you and we’d just be a family again? Like nothing ever changed?”

She chuckled. “I guess I did. You know, ever since mum first brought you home, I hated you. You would scream all the time, bawling your eyes out. God, I thought you were so spoiled. But no matter how I bullied and teased you, you always wanted to play with me. No matter what I do, you always pretended like nothing ever happened. No grudges, or anger.

“When mum died, and we were alone, I saw you break down. And that’s when I realised how immature I had been. How neglectful I had been as the big sister. I took your strength for granted. I was the one who was spoiled.”

A memory returned to Chang: a girl, standing by an easel in the middle of a garden, with the smell of oil and freshly mowed grass. He remembered the sunlight catching in her hair, making them glow with a burst of gold. He remembered her face, scrunched in concentration, her eyes studying the lines and colours of a potted tomato plant. The splattered paint on her cheek and all down her summer dress. The image felt so familiar to him, so vivid and striking, he couldn’t believe he had ever forgotten it.

“You liked to paint,” said Chang. His cheeks turned wet.

“Don’t blame yourself,” Mei pleaded. “This isn’t your fault.”

Even now, she kept facing away. It made it easier for him. That was her final mercy.

He pulled the trigger, and her blood spilled over the floor. His blood.