The plane touched down at the ancient northwestern airport as dusk settled over the horizon.

Sophia coughed twice the moment she stepped out, the arid air scratching her throat. Iris handed her a bottle of water, and she took a sip to soothe the dryness.

A mud-splattered SUV awaited them. The driver, his skin darkened by the sun, spoke in a thick local accent. "Hold tight, experts. The mountain roads are rough."

As the vehicle wound through the serpentine path, tires crunching over gravel, Sophia absently traced the strap of her backpack while watching the darkening sky through the window.

Dorset Village was even more remote than she'd imagined.

Dragonback Mountain loomed faintly in the twilight, its base dotted with military tents. Floodlights illuminated the excavation site like midday.

"We're here," the driver announced, braking. "Professor Moore is waiting."

When Professor Nathan Moore approached, Sophia caught a flicker of surprise behind his glasses. She was accustomed to that look—no one expected a world-class restoration expert to be a woman barely in her twenties.

"Ms. Laurent, I've long admired your work." The professor extended his hand.

Just as Sophia moved to respond, sharp intakes of breath sounded behind her. She turned to see several young team members gaping at her, their brushes clattering to the ground.

Iris burst out laughing. "Soph, you've stunned them again."

Professor Moore cleared his throat awkwardly. "Pay them no mind. These boys have been isolated in the wilderness too long."

A chill wind seeped from the tomb entrance.

Sophia tightened her jacket as she followed the professor down the steep steps. The damp earth reeked of decay, churning her stomach.

"Watch your step," Professor Moore warned, flashlight in hand. "This Warring States tomb is remarkably preserved, but oxidation is accelerating beyond projections."

The murals in the main chamber had faded to dull sepia. Sophia leaned in, her fingertips hovering an inch above the artwork as she traced the lines in the air.

"Can they be restored?" the professor asked.

Iris interjected, "Sophia has a photographic memory. Give her three days, and she'll recreate them perfectly."

Sophia shot her a glare before addressing the professor. "I need to examine the originals first."

When the final coffin was pried open, black mist billowed out. Sophia held her breath until it dissipated before approaching. The silk garments inside were visibly deteriorating—she immediately committed every detail to memory.

"Got it all?" Professor Moore couldn't mask his astonishment.

Sophia nodded. "Colors, patterns, damage locations—everything."

It was midnight by the time they returned to the town's guesthouse.

The sparse room held only a wooden bed and a chipped desk. As Sophia arranged her restoration tools, Iris peeked in with a pillow. "Want company? This place gives me the creeps."

"No, thank you." Sophia declined gently. "I prefer solitude."

After Iris left, she texted Ethan: «Arrived safely.» He replied instantly: «Stay alert. Contact me immediately if anything happens.»

By 2 AM, exhaustion finally overtook her.

She'd just fallen asleep when a rustling sound jolted her awake. A dark figure loomed over her, his tobacco-tainted breath hot on her face.

"Who—"

A calloused hand clamped over her mouth. Her pajama top tore open, the cold air making her shiver violently.

Sophia kicked wildly, her knee connecting hard with the attacker's stomach. As he recoiled in pain, she rolled off the bed screaming, "Help! Somebo—"

Mid-shout, she was yanked back by her hair. Just as despair set in, the door burst open.

A gun's black muzzle pressed against the assailant's skull.

"Move again. I dare you." That familiar voice made Sophia's eyes well up instantly.