Chapter 1 – Bloody
The corridor stretched endlessly, lined with identical white walls and a series of black-painted doors. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, flickering faintly like tired eyelids.
A boy stood frozen before one of those doors—345A. His hand hovered just above the handle, trembling slightly, as though touching it would change everything.
Hufff…
A shaky breath escaped his lips. His black hair, combed into the fashionable comma style, framed a pale face that betrayed both youth and exhaustion. His eyes—dark, unsteady—reflected the sterile glow of the hallway. The boy was dressed in his blue school blazer, a shoulder bag hanging loosely from one arm.
His name was Kaoru Aven.
With effort, he forced his hand to move. The cold metal handle turned under his palm.
Krekk…
The door opened with a reluctant creak.
And then—
Deng… deng…
The world shattered.
Aven's eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat. On the floor beside the bed lay the body of his father, collapsed awkwardly, surrounded by a grotesque halo of blood. Dark crimson stained the sheets, splattered across the floorboards, smeared against the walls as though the room itself had bled out.
The apartment bedroom had once been small but tidy—a modest space lived in by a man who tried to keep order in chaos. Now it looked ransacked, as if intruders had torn it apart in desperation. A shattered picture frame hung crookedly on the wall, its glass scattered across the carpet. A landscape painting—half torn—dangled from its nails, exposing cracks in the plaster. The wardrobe stood open, clothes pulled out and tossed carelessly across the floor. Drawers were left ajar, contents spilled in frantic disarray. A simple wooden desk was overturned, its lamp broken, shards glittering like cruel stars. In the corner, the door to the tiny bathroom was left half-open, its mirror cracked down the middle.
The room reeked of iron.
"No… this—this can't be real… Father!"
Aven stumbled forward, his knees buckling as he covered his mouth with both hands. The sound that tore out of him was muffled, raw, and desperate. Tears blurred his vision as he collapsed to the floor.
But then, through the haze of grief, something caught his eye.
There—beside his father's hand, written in trembling strokes of blood—were words.
A message.
Aven, remember my advice.
The boy's body shuddered violently. His father's dying words slammed into his memory like a thunderclap.
He was a child again, curled on his father's lap, listening to a voice that was calm yet strangely insistent.
"Aven… if I am gone one day, remember this. Go to your grandfather's house. In the basement, there is a green wardrobe. Push it aside… and open the door behind it."
"Father, don't say things like that! You won't leave me, right?"
"Son, just remember. One day, these words will matter."
"…Fine, Father. I'll remember."
The memory faded, leaving behind only silence and the weight of blood-soaked reality.
Shaking, Aven wiped the writing from the floor, as if erasing the words could erase the fate that awaited him. His fingers trembled as he reached for his phone and dialed the police.
Minutes later, sirens wailed in the distance. Officers arrived, sealing the apartment, questioning him with suspicion sharp in their eyes. For a moment, their gazes treated him not as a victim, but as the killer. But the CCTV footage from the corridor proved his innocence—showing he had only just arrived home.
The police carried away the body.
The crowd that had gathered outside buzzed with whispers, their curiosity mingled with pity. From amidst the press of strangers, someone pushed forward desperately, almost stumbling.
A girl.
Her long silver-gray hair spilled around her shoulders, faintly shimmering under the streetlights. Her skin was pale, her eyes—gray tinged with violet—sharp, cold, yet trembling with disbelief. A thin ornament held part of her hair at the back, but strands still framed her stricken face.
"Mayane…" Aven's voice cracked.
"What happened to Father?!" Her words trembled with urgency, as though saying them aloud might undo reality.
"…He died," Aven whispered, barely audible. His gaze fell to the ground.
"No!"
The girl—Kaoru Mayane, his younger sister—screamed, her voice tearing through the air, raw with grief. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she collapsed into his arms.
The siblings clung to each other, their bodies shaking, their tears mingling. Around them, murmurs softened into silence as neighbors looked on, subdued and sorrowful.
The next day, gray skies wept.
At the cemetery, a new grave stood among countless others, its fresh mound of earth darkened by rain. Two siblings stood before it, clad in black. A single umbrella shielded them, though it did little against the storm.
Mayane sobbed, clutching the umbrella tightly, her small hands trembling. Aven stood in silence, his face pale and unreadable, but his shoulders sagged under an invisible weight. The rain soaked them both, plastering hair to their skin, staining the black fabric of their clothes.
No relatives came. No one else stood by the grave.
It was only them.
Only Aven and Mayane.
When the storm finally eased, they lingered a moment longer before turning away.
That night, in the small living room of their now empty apartment, Aven finally spoke. His voice was low, heavy, almost hollow.
"Mayane… I've made a decision."
She lifted her swollen eyes to him. "What decision?"
"I'm dropping out of school."
Her expression froze. "…What?"
"I'll find work. As soon as possible. Someone has to pay the bills, and I'll make sure you stay in school. You'll go to college, no matter what."
The words struck her harder than any blade. She stood up, her chair scraping violently against the floor.
"No! Absolutely not! You can't just throw your future away for me! And soon you will graduate!"
"What choice do I have?!" Aven snapped, louder than he intended. His hands clenched into fists. "We don't have anyone else. No relatives, no help. Just us. And I won't let you suffer because of me."
Mayane shook her head, tears welling again. "If you quit, then everything Father wanted for us—everything he worked for—will be gone. Do you think he'd want that?"
Aven turned away, his jaw tightening. "…He's not here anymore."
The silence stretched, thick with grief and anger.
Finally, Mayane's voice broke the stillness. Soft. Defeated.
"…If you're really going to do this… then promise me one thing."
Aven looked back at her, startled by the resignation in her eyes.
"Promise me you won't give up on yourself. Even if you work, even if you sacrifice… don't lose who you are."
His throat tightened. He gave a small, bitter smile. "…I promise."
The two of them sat together in the dim light, shadows long against the wall, clinging to the fragile thread that still bound them: family, loss, and a promise neither knew if they could keep.