Kaito Tanaka had spent his entire life fading into the background. Not the kind of fading that made him mysterious or intriguing… no, he was the invisible kind.
The sort of person people bumped into in the crowded hallway, muttered "Oh, sorry, didn't see you there," and walked on without a second thought. Average grades. Average looks. Average… everything. If mediocrity had a face, it would be his: pale, unremarkable, utterly forgettable.
So it made perfect sense that when his class trudged up the winding mountain trail for some supposedly "spiritual history experience," nobody even blinked when he slipped behind a thicket of trees to nap.
Nobody noticed when he wandered farther off the path, past twisted roots and overgrown vines that clawed at his pants. Nobody noticed when the forest swallowed him whole, leaving him alone in a quiet world of chirping birds and rustling leaves.
"Figures," Kaito muttered under his breath, brushing a branch out of his hair. "I skip a boring field trip just to end up starring in Survivor: Loser Edition."
The air smelled faintly of damp earth and decaying leaves. A thin mist curled around the moss-covered stones, softening the edges of the forest. That's when he saw it.
A shrine.
Not the kind of neat, well-kept shrine the tourist brochures bragged about. This one had been abandoned for centuries. Its wooden gates sagged crookedly, splintered edges poking into the air like warning fingers.
Moss crawled across every surface, swallowing carvings and inscriptions in emerald waves. Spiderwebs stretched across the beams, glinting with trapped dew in the pale sunlight that filtered through the trees. The whole structure leaned slightly to one side, as though daring him to step inside and face whatever secrets it held.
Kaito's stomach twisted in equal parts fear and curiosity. Every instinct screamed at him to turn around, retrace his steps, and disappear back into the forest. But something tugged at the center of his chest, a whisper he couldn't ignore.
Hesitating only a heartbeat, he took a cautious step forward. Then another. And another. Curiosity, or maybe foolishness, yanked his feet toward the shrine like an invisible string.
Inside the shrine, at the heart of the ruin, lay a girl draped across the cracked stone floor.
No… not a girl. A woman.
Her black wings were shredded, feathers torn and frayed as if they had been ripped apart by some unseen force. A tail, thin and whip-like, lay limp against the cold, moss-stained stone.
From her forehead jutted crimson horns, curved and sharp, catching what little light filtered through the broken roof. And yet, despite the damage, despite the blood and grime, her face was heartbreakingly beautiful. Delicate features marred by exhaustion and pain, eyes half-lidded as if weighed down by the world itself.
Kaito's breath caught in his throat. Every instinct screamed at him to run. But something rooted him to the spot.
She stirred slightly, raising a gaze that cut straight through him. Golden flecks danced in her black irises as she whispered, "…A mortal?"
Kaito froze, the words barely forming. "H-Holy crap… you can talk?" His voice cracked, disbelief mingling with awe.
A faint, tired smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "So… humans still stumble into this place. Good. I thought the world had forgotten me." Her voice was soft, melodic, yet laced with centuries of sorrow.
Kaito's heart pounded like a drum in his chest. His mind screamed run, run, run! but his legs betrayed him, kneeling before her in spite of everything. "You're… hurt. Do you need—uh, water? A bandage?" He held out his hands awkwardly, as if offering a peace treaty.
She chuckled softly, the sound fragile, like wind through dead leaves. "So pitiful… yet you came closer. Not to kill me. But to help. Perhaps… that is enough."
Her hand stirred.
Kaito flinched as pale fingers, trembling and cold, lifted slowly from the cracked stone. For a heartbeat, he thought she was reaching for his throat. His mind screamed oh god she's gonna squeeze my heart out of my chest like a stress ball!
But instead, her hand pressed flat against him, right over his chest.
The shock of it nearly sent him reeling. Her skin was icy, colder than anything human, and yet the touch burrowed heat deep into his ribs, as though her fingers bypassed flesh and bone to touch something more vital. His heartbeat faltered, then thundered twice as loud.
Kaito froze. "Uh… hey… wh-what are you—?"
Her body tilted forward. Before he could retreat, she leaned in. Soft, impossibly soft, her lips brushed his forehead.
Time stopped.
The world around him tilted like a boat in a storm. Fire coursed through his veins, searing yet not painful. His body went hot, feverish, his vision spinning as light danced across his chest in spirals.
A mark, glowing, intricate, and alive, etched itself across his skin beneath his shirt. He couldn't see it fully, but he felt every curve, every line, searing itself into him.
Her voice followed, echoing not from her lips but inside his mind. Soft. Haunting. Unshakable.
"You'll understand… when they desire you."
And then, she vanished.
Not walked away. Not faded. Dissolved.
Her entire body broke apart into countless tiny sparks of crimson light. They swirled upward once, then rained down like embers and sank into his skin. Every particle burned before melting into him, swallowed whole by the strange mark now pulsing over his chest.
Kaito stumbled backward, gasping like he'd just run a marathon. His back slammed into a pillar, dust showering down as he clawed at his shirt.
"Wait… wait, wait, what the hell was that supposed to mean!?" he shouted at the empty shrine. His voice cracked halfway through, making him sound less like a hero and more like a panicked middle-schooler.
But the silence that followed was absolute. No voice. No glow. The woman; succubus, demon, hallucination, whatever she was,… was gone.
Only the ruined shrine remained, dark and still.
Kaito swallowed hard, his throat dry as bone.
Slowly, his gaze drifted to the relic behind the altar. A cracked mirror, its surface dull with age but intact enough to catch his reflection.
His own face stared back at him.
But… sharper.
His jawline cut angles it had never dreamed of before. His cheekbones, once buried under baby fat and ramen nights, stood out. Even his hair, still the same unruly mop, suddenly looked… good. The kind of messy actors spent an hour styling for. His eyes gleamed brighter, no longer the dull "undead gamer" look he was used to.
He blinked once, then shook his head, disbelief etched across his face. "…Nah," he whispered, voice small. "Must be because of the lighting from the roof."