Akitsu Shouga opened his eyes.

  The ethereal void greeted him once more. There was no sky, no ground—only an endless, swallowing darkness that felt neither warm nor cold, only heavy, like a space waiting to consume memory itself.

  He stood on a small red island, no wider than a village square, suspended in nothingness. At its center bloomed a single cherry blossom tree, its bark gnarled and dark, twisted almost like blackened wood, its leaves a deep, bloodlike crimson that seemed to pulse faintly in the void.

  Around the island, black water stretched infinitely in every direction, smooth and mirror-like, absorbing the faintest light without reflection. Drifting atop the obsidian surface were twenty red cherry blossom petals, slowly rotating as if caught in an invisible current.

  Floating slightly above the water—weightless, unnatural—were dozens of red doors. Dozens. Maybe hundreds. Each one was unique: some carved with cryptic symbols, some splintered and rotting at the edges, yet all shared the same unsettling, vivid red.

  Akitsu exhaled slowly, the sound loud in the oppressive silence.

  “…So I’m back here.”

  He wasn’t surprised. He had been here too many times to panic now.

  He stepped forward, boots crunching lightly against the red soil, and moved toward the cherry blossom tree, its petals swaying slightly though there was no wind. The ground beneath him was unnervingly solid, yet the edges of the island seemed to hover, shifting in his vision.

  Then a voice broke the quiet.

  “You look calmer than last time.”

  Akitsu froze, his hand instinctively moving toward where his weapon would have been, even though he knew it wasn’t there. He turned sharply.

  On the far edge of the island, a figure sat casually, one leg dangling over the void. Its presence was humanoid but profoundly wrong, the kind of wrong that set teeth on edge. Long limbs, relaxed posture—but the shadow it cast bent at impossible angles, stretching and twisting as if it had a life of its own.

  Its skin was muted gray, faint cracks glowing with a red ember-like light beneath the surface. Its clothing was human: a black coat, tattered at the edges; a white shirt stained with what looked like old blood; simple trousers and worn boots.

  Shoulder-length black hair hung loosely. Small, curved horns rose from its temples, subtle yet undeniably there.

  And its eyes.

  Akitsu’s eyes. The same shape, the same depthless emptiness.

  “…You weren’t here before,” Akitsu whispered.

  The figure smiled faintly.

  “No,” it said. “You just weren’t ready to see me.”

  Akitsu’s chest tightened. “Who are you?”

  The figure leaned back, gazing at the cherry blossom tree with casual detachment.

  “That’s the first thing you ask every time.”

  Akitsu’s voice sharpened. “Answer me.”

  The figure chuckled softly, almost amused.

  “Impatient. You really haven’t changed.”

  Akitsu clenched his fists, jaw tight.

  “Who. Are. You.”

  The figure finally turned fully, meeting Akitsu’s gaze directly.

  “I am the living hatred of your soul.”

  Silence fell. The petals drifted slowly on the black water. The doors creaked faintly, a soft, breathing sound.

  “…What?” Akitsu asked.

  “You heard me,” the figure said.

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Akitsu snapped, anger rising. “If you’re going to speak, speak clearly. Who are you?”

  The figure stood. The air seemed to grow heavier, pressing down, like the calm before a storm. One slow step brought it close to Akitsu, boots stopping just short of the island’s edge.

  “My name,” it said softly, “is something you shouldn’t know yet.”

  Akitsu scowled. “Then why are you here?”

  “To talk.”

  “I don’t listen to people I don’t know.”

  The figure laughed—soft, amused, almost fond. “That’s ironic, coming from someone who keeps walking through doors he doesn’t understand.”

  Akitsu’s jaw tightened. “If you’re not going to explain, I’m leaving.”

  “Go ahead,” the figure said lightly. “But you’ll hear this eventually.”

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  Akitsu paused. “…Hear what?”

  The figure’s smile faded, voice lowering.

  “There will be many things ahead. Things worse than dying.”

  Akitsu’s chest constricted.

  The figure continued.

  “And when the time comes, you must trust Kaito Morikawa.”

  Akitsu’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Trust him.”

  “Why?” Akitsu demanded, voice sharper, incredulous. “Why should I trust someone I don’t even know?”

  The cracks in the figure’s gray skin glowed brighter.

  “Because,” it said, “he will give you the results you want.”

  Akitsu swallowed. “Results…?”

  “And because,” the figure added, softer now, “it brings me joy watching you die. Over and over again.”

  Akitsu’s breath hitched. “What…?”

  “To see you suffer,” the figure continued, a cruel smile spreading, “to see how far you can crawl before you break.”

  Akitsu staggered back. “…What are you?”

  “I told you,” the demon said, calm, almost tender, “I am the manifestation of the hatred buried inside your soul.”

  Akitsu’s heart pounded. “…Then what can you do?”

  The demon tilted its head, curiosity in its posture.

  “Power?”

  “Yes,” Akitsu said, his voice firmer. “What’s your power?”

  “I can conjure spirits,” the demon replied smoothly. “Or lure them. Bind them. Convince them to become something more… or less.”

  Akitsu’s mind raced. “…Then why am I not dead?”

  The demon frowned slightly. “That… I don’t know.”

  Akitsu’s voice trembled. “I’ve died so many times.”

  “I know.”

  “Why am I still here?”

  The demon looked away, toward the floating doors. “I don’t know why you persist. But I can sense the pathways that lead forward.”

  Akitsu’s heart skipped. “Which way?”

  The demon turned, eyes piercing him. “That knowledge comes at a price.”

  Akitsu’s shoulders tensed. “What price?”

  “Your soul.”

  Akitsu let out a shaky breath. “…Half of my soul is with Seraphine Orion.”

  The demon shook its head slowly. “Incorrect.”

  Akitsu blinked. “What?”

  “Half of your soul is bound to her,” the demon said calmly. “But it is not gone.”

  He stepped closer, looming over Akitsu. “I can still take all of it.”

  Akitsu’s hands trembled. “…What’s in it for you?”

  The demon’s grin widened. “You will die less.”

  Akitsu swallowed hard.

  “And survive more.”

  He looked at the black water. The doors. The drifting petals. “…What about home?” he asked quietly. “How do I go back?”

  The demon said nothing. The silence was answer enough.

  Akitsu closed his eyes. “…I see.”

  He stepped past the demon, feeling the red soil under his boots, stepping into the black water. It didn’t ripple.

  He approached a red door and placed his hand on the handle.

  Behind him, the demon’s voice drifted softly, almost amused:

  “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

  Akitsu didn’t look back.

  He opened the door.

  The world fell into silence.

  Sunlight filtered through leaves.

  He was standing beside a crystal-clear lake.

  “No—!”

  He saw Kael Ardent running toward the water.

  “Kael!” Akitsu shouted, sprinting.

  “What—?”

  Akitsu kicked Kael hard in the stomach. “Oof—!” Kael crashed to the ground, wheezing. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

  Akitsu grabbed a leaf and tossed it into the lake. It sank instantly.

  Kael stared. “…That’s not normal.”

  “…Pack up,” Akitsu said. “We’re leaving.”

  Seraphine frowned. “Akitsu. How did you—?”

  Akitsu didn’t answer.

  They left.

  Later, they reached a field of collapsed ruins and bones.

  “…What happened here?” Kael whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Akitsu said, voice tight.

  They found a shrine. Akitsu froze. “…I can read this.”

  Kael turned sharply. “You can?”

  Akitsu read aloud, his voice echoing faintly in the open ruins:

  “‘You’re not the only one alive. There are countless more who were here.’”

  The air grew cold.

  He swallowed.

  “‘This place is hell. I want to go back.’”

  Silence. Seraphine’s voice was low, almost a whisper. “…Akitsu.”

  The wind howled.