Kaito Morikawa sat quietly at his desk.

  The room was dim, lit only by a desk lamp whose warm glow barely reached the corners of the office. Papers were neatly stacked, untouched. His black hair fell loosely around his face, shadowing eyes that glowed a deep, unsettling red as he stared at nothing in particular.

  The silence was absolute.

  Then—

  The door slammed open.

  “WHY DID YOU SEND ME OUT THERE TO GET KILLED?!”

  The shout echoed off the walls.

  Kaito didn’t flinch.

  Sora Amamiya stormed inside, blue hair disheveled, chest heaving with anger. His black eyes burned as he pointed a shaking finger at Kaito.

  “You knew what was out there!” Sora snarled. “You knew the royal knights were moving!”

  Kaito finally looked up.

  “Sit down,” he said calmly. “And lower your voice.”

  Sora laughed bitterly. “Calm down? You want me to calm down after you sent me straight into a death sentence?”

  “You’re alive,” Kaito replied. “So clearly it wasn’t.”

  “That’s not the point!” Sora slammed his hands onto the desk. “I trusted you. You said it was a simple cleanup—escaped syndicate members. And then—”

  He sucked in a breath.

  “—Gideon Falk.”

  Kaito’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You encountered the First Captain?”

  “He was riding back to the kingdom with his men,” Sora said sharply. “They spotted me. No questions. No warnings. They tried to kill me on sight.”

  Silence returned.

  “…I’m sorry,” Kaito said after a moment.

  Sora froze.

  “You’re… sorry?” he repeated, incredulous.

  “Yes,” Kaito said. “That was not accounted for.”

  Sora stared at him, then laughed again—this time hollow. “If I’d been a second slower, I’d be dead.”

  Kaito leaned back in his chair. “Did you regain your memories?”

  Sora’s expression darkened. “I did.”

  “…Good.”

  “Good?” Sora snapped. “I wouldn’t have them if I died!”

  Kaito folded his hands. “You still have two hearts left. You’ll be fine.”

  That stopped Sora cold.

  “…You say that like it’s nothing,” he muttered.

  His anger drained, leaving only exhaustion. He dragged a chair back and dropped into it, rubbing his temples.

  “…Those memories,” Sora said quietly. “They don’t feel like mine.”

  Kaito tilted his head. “What do you remember?”

  Sora exhaled slowly.

  “I remember running,” he said. “Through a forest. Nighttime. Cold air. I was being chased.”

  “By whom?”

  “Human traffickers,” Sora replied. “A group of them. I could hear their breathing. Their boots. One of them laughed every time I stumbled.”

  His fingers clenched unconsciously.

  “One of them threw a spear,” he continued. “It hit my head. Went straight through.”

  Kaito didn’t react.

  “I should’ve died,” Sora said. “I knew that. But I didn’t.”

  He swallowed.

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  “I kept running. Pulled the spear out myself. Blood everywhere. But… no pain. Not even fear. Just… urgency.”

  Kaito’s gaze sharpened.

  “When I finally escaped,” Sora said, “I collapsed. Passed out. And when I woke up…”

  He looked up.

  “You were sitting next to the bed.”

  Kaito nodded once.

  “Do you remember your family?” Kaito asked.

  Sora shook his head. “No. Nothing. Just the chase.”

  “…I see,” Kaito murmured.

  Sora frowned. “How strange is that?”

  Kaito didn’t answer.

  The silence stretched.

  “…You’re not going to explain, are you?” Sora said quietly.

  Kaito remained still.

  After a few seconds, Sora stood.

  “…Fine,” he said. “I’m done here.”

  He turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind him.

  Kaito remained alone.

  “…Too early,” he whispered.

  Thousands of Years Ago

  In a small, quiet village surrounded by mist-covered hills, a child was born.

  His name was Yurei.

  At birth, the midwife screamed.

  The child had no limbs.

  No eyes.

  Only a small mouth rested where a face should have been.

  The villagers recoiled in fear.

  But his parents did not.

  “It’s our son,” his mother said, holding him close despite her shaking hands. “That’s all that matters.”

  They raised him with unconditional love.

  They fed him.

  They sang to him.

  They held him when he made soft, strange noises that almost sounded like laughter.

  For seven months, nothing happened.

  Then one night—

  Yurei was breastfeeding.

  His mother screamed.

  “—AAAAAAHHH!”

  The scream was not of pain.

  It was of loss.

  Her soul was being torn from her body.

  Yurei clung to her, mouth pressed against her chest as something unseen flowed into him. Light drained from her eyes as her scream faded into a hollow gasp.

  The father burst into the room.

  “What’s wrong—?!”

  He froze.

  His wife lay lifeless.

  And the thing in her arms—

  No.

  His son—

  Was glowing faintly.

  “Yurei…?” he whispered.

  The child turned.

  And devoured him too.

  When it was over, two bodies lay cold on the floor.

  Yurei changed.

  Limbs formed.

  Eyes opened.

  A face shaped itself into something eerily familiar.

  He stood, now resembling his father.

  And he was hungry.

  The village did not survive the night.

  Screams echoed until there were none left.

  When the last soul was consumed, Yurei stood alone among the ruins.

  Then he walked.

  Into the Everdawn Forest.

  The forest was endless.

  The sun never set.

  Trees towered like frozen sentinels, leaves unmoving, time unmoving.

  Yurei walked.

  And walked.

  And walked.

  For a thousand years.

  Unaware.

  Unchanging.

  Waiting.