Family dinner of three in a loving home. Seven-year-old Genzai smiled as his mother fed him, while his father looked on with affection in his eyes.
Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door.
Rin, Genzai's father, said, "Just keep eating. I'll check who it is."
He walked over to the door and looked through the peephole—a small round mirror that revealed the other side.
Standing there was a teenage boy, smiling.
"Hi~!" the boy muttered, his grin wide, but his eyes were lifeless. His entire expression radiated something terrifying.
A gut feeling surged through Rin—this man had a sinister intent. "Run!" he shouted, drawing his gun.
Shiro, Genzai's mother, grabbed her son and bolted.
Before Rin could react further, the door exploded inward, blown apart by the stranger's curse. The wooden frame couldn't withstand the combustion.
Shiro rushed to the basement, clutching Genzai tightly. She knelt down and reassured him softly, "Everything will be alright, Genzai. Your father and I will always protect you. Just stay here, okay?"
She gently kissed his forehead.
Seven-year-old Genzai cried silently, his black eyes brimming with emotion—fear, confusion, helplessness. But he trusted his parents. They were his whole world.
From the basement, he could hear the crackling of fire. The sharp scent of smoke filled the air, but he stayed hidden—because his mother told him to.
Shiro returned upstairs. She couldn't let that man get to their son, their miracle.
The fire had grown.
She saw her husband—Rin—already lying still, lifeless. He had tried to protect them.
Now it was her turn.