The faint hum of generators filled the underground hall, their vibration spreading like a pulse through the reinforced steel walls of the Soul Lab. Pale fluorescent lights flickered above, sometimes dimming for half a second as if the air itself was choking on the density of rim particles saturating the room. On every table, glass cylinders glowed with pale-blue liquid, each one swirling faintly as though alive.
A group of scientists in white coats huddled around one corner. Their faces were drawn, their eyes restless.
"...Hey," one of them whispered, leaning closer as if the walls themselves had ears. "Did you hear? Guren and Kuro… they took thirty-seven candidates. Thirty-seven people with potential for Eclipse resonance. Moved them out two nights ago."
The others froze.
"You're serious?" another asked, lowering his voice to a near hiss. "Where?"
"That's the point." The first one's lips trembled. "To another facility. No location disclosed. Not to us, anyway. They said it's classified."
A heavy silence followed. Their white coats, their long hours of research, all of it suddenly felt weightless compared to the weight of secrecy pressing down. None of them even knew who truly commanded them. Guren? Kuro? The Ministry? Or some shadow above them all?
"...Why just those thirty-seven?" a third scientist murmured, adjusting his spectacles nervously. "We've been studying hundreds of subjects. Why those people?"
No one answered. The silence thickened until the faint buzz of rim particles in the air seemed louder than their breaths.
One man, younger than the rest, pulled his phone from his pocket. He was the kind that always needed a distraction, something to ground him when dread gnawed at his chest. His thumb slid across the screen.
Then his face drained of color.
His phone trembled in his hand. "W–wait. What is this...?"
The others turned sharply toward him.
"News?"
"Yeah..." His voice cracked. "It says... it says the Soul Lab is going to be attacked. Tonight."
The words hung in the sterile air like a curse.
"Impossible," someone scoffed, but his voice was hollow. "No one even knows this place exists. We're buried under three layers of security."
The younger man shook his head violently, his eyes darting across the glowing screen. "It's spreading on the hidden boards. An anonymous leak. It says a strike team is coming."
Panic slithered through their group. One man staggered back, knocking over a clipboard. Another pressed his trembling fingers against his temple.
"Who... who would attack us?"
"We're researchers, damn it! We only follow orders!"
None of them realized how loud they had become until the air itself changed.
The ceiling groaned.
And then, without warning, steel screamed as claws ripped through it.
A gaping hole tore open in the reinforced roof. Shards of metal rained down, scattering across the lab.
A figure descended slowly, almost gracefully, as though gravity itself bent to her presence.
Her red hair shimmered like molten fire in the pale glow of the three moons above — Luna, Riya, and Sylpha — their overlapping light cascading through the breach. Her claws glistened, razor-sharp, wet with something that steamed faintly in the night air.
Every scientist froze. Their hearts seemed to stop as her crimson gaze swept across the lab.
"R–Regan..." one of them whispered in disbelief.
Regan No. 9.
Her boots hit the floor with a metallic clang, and with that sound came a wave of oppressive silence. The rim particles in the air trembled, glowing faintly, drawn unconsciously toward her like moths to flame.
One of the older scientists stumbled backward. "W–wait! We're not your enemy! We're not part of this madness! We only follow orders—"
The words never finished.
From above, another shadow landed. Unlike No. 9's sharp presence, this one was calm, composed, his movements precise. His cloak rippled as he straightened, and the faint shimmer of rim energy danced across his gloves.
Regan No. 10.
Side by side, they stood — red and black silhouettes framed by moonlight. Their eyes glowed faintly, not just with rim particles, but with something colder.
The younger scientist's legs buckled. "We're not the ones you want! We're researchers, nothing more! We've been betrayed—don't you see?"
No. 9 tilted her head slightly. Her expression didn't change. She raised her claws, and the rims of her nails caught the moonlight.
"Orders," she said simply. Her voice was low, almost expressionless.
The panic finally broke. Some scientists bolted for the far exit, their footsteps echoing desperately across the steel floor. But before they could reach the door, it hissed open.
Soldiers stepped in — black uniforms, rifles slung across their shoulders. Their boots struck the ground in unison. At their front was a tall man with sharp features, his expression unreadable. His aura was heavy, a seasoned fighter's weight pressing down on the room.
His presence froze the fleeing scientists in place.
"regans... Police...?" one of them whispered in shock.
The man's gaze swept across the lab, his eyes glinting faintly in the moonlight spilling from the breach above. He said nothing at first, only motioned with his hand. The soldiers moved instantly, spreading out, rifles raised, rim-powered shackles ready.
The younger scientist's chest heaved. "No... no, this isn't right! We've done nothing wrong! We're not the enemy!"
"We've given our lives to this research!" another shouted, tears streaking his face. "If Guren and Kuro betrayed us, then let us prove our innocence! Just let us—"
"Silence."
The single word came from Regan No. 10. It wasn't loud, but it carried weight, slicing through the protests. His gaze was flat, but behind it something colder lingered.
Rim particles glowed faintly in the air, swirling around his outstretched palm. Thin chains of light emerged from the particles themselves, twisting into solid form. They lashed out in an instant, binding three scientists at once, pulling them to their knees.
The others screamed, struggling, but soldiers rushed forward, shackles snapping into place around their wrists and ankles.
The lab dissolved into chaos. Desperate cries filled the air. The humming machines rattled as people slammed against them in futile attempts to escape. Blue liquid splashed from broken cylinders, casting eerie reflections on the walls.
But through it all, No. 9 and No. 10 stood calm, their forms framed by the moonlight and swirling rim glow. They didn't rush. They didn't need to.
Every movement they made was precise, inevitable.
A scientist, face twisted with terror, dropped to his knees in front of Kaito's father. "Please—please, you know us! We're not soldiers! We never asked for this! Don't let them take us—"
The man's eyes softened for only the briefest second. Then the weight returned.
"Orders are orders."
The scientist's scream was cut short as shackles tightened, dragging him into the growing line of captives.
One by one, every scientist fell. Some sobbed, some cursed, some whispered prayers to gods long silent.
Above them, the three moons burned cold and distant.
And when the last voice fell silent, only the hum of the machines remained, broken by the faint crackle of rim particles still swirling in the air.
Regan No. 9 wiped her claws against her cloak, eyes never leaving the trembling captives.
Regan No. 10 finally turned his gaze toward Kaito's father. "The Soul Lab is secured."
The man gave a single nod.
For the scientists, the world had collapsed in a single night. They had followed orders, blind and loyal. Yet now they stood shackled, betrayed by shadows they never knew existed.
None of them realized the cruelest truth.
That No. 9 and No. 10 did not serve Guren, nor Kuro.
They served something higher.
The government itself.
And in the silence that followed, the three moons drifted slowly across the sky, their cold light falling through the ruined ceiling, bathing the captives in silver — a reminder that the night had only just begun.
Later
Cold chains clinked against the steel floors as the line of prisoners was marched forward. The scientists, stripped of their white coats, looked more like ghosts than men. Their heads were bowed, their eyes hollow, yet their lips trembled with whispers they dared not speak aloud.
The convoy moved through the night. The armored trucks rumbled across barren land, headlights cutting through the shadows. Soldiers lined the walls of each vehicle, rifles steady, rim-powered restraints glowing faintly around the wrists of their captives.
Inside the lead truck, Regan No. 10 — Riley — sat in silence. Her presence filled the confined space, heavier than the steel itself. She did not look at the prisoners. Her crimson eyes stared straight ahead, calm and unyielding.
Beside her, Regan No. 9 — Kiyara leaned lazily against the wall, her red hair spilling across her shoulder. Her claws were sheathed now, but the faint shimmer of rim particles still curled around her fingertips. Every prisoner kept their gaze fixed on the floor, terrified that even a glance might provoke her.
The trucks finally slowed. The gates of a fortress-like facility loomed ahead — a government detention center, its walls bristling with barbed wire and automated turrets. The scientists felt their hearts sink lower with every turn of the wheels.
The gates opened with a heavy groan.
The convoy entered.
One by one, the prisoners were dragged into the interrogation chamber — a wide, dimly lit hall lined with steel chairs and shackles.
The soldiers pushed the scientists down, chaining their wrists and ankles to the floor. The faint blue glow of rim suppression cuffs illuminated their pale faces.
A silence stretched, broken only by the drip of water from a pipe in the ceiling.
Then, Riley stepped forward. Her boots echoed against the steel floor. She stopped in front of the line of trembling men.
Her voice was calm, yet each word struck like a hammer.
"Where are the remaining thirty-seven?"
The scientists flinched.
One of them, the younger man who had panicked earlier, lifted his head shakily. His lips trembled as he spoke.
"We… we don't know. It wasn't us. Guren and Kuro… they—"
"Answer properly." Kiyara's voice cut in, sharp as a blade. She crouched low, her crimson hair spilling forward as her claws lightly grazed the trembling man's chin. "You took Amerians and Catherine. Where are they now?"
The scientist shook his head violently. "N-no, we didn't! We were never told where they were taken! It was Guren and Kuro who—"
"Names mean nothing to us without proof," Riley said coldly. "Show us where they are."
"We can't!" another scientist cried out desperately. "We swear to you, we only followed their orders! They used jammers to block any tracking devices! Even if you tried to find them, you couldn't!"
The word hung in the air.
Jammers.
A murmur rippled among the soldiers. Their eyes flickered toward Riley.
One of the officers stepped forward. "Regan No. 10 — Captain Riley. Can't you use your ability? Locate them?"
All eyes turned to her.
Her crimson gaze did not waver. She closed her eyes for a moment, as though weighing the truth against the lie.
When she finally spoke, her voice was steady, but low.
"I cannot."
The soldiers stiffened.
"Why not?" the officer pressed.
Riley's eyes opened slowly. "To locate someone, I must first touch them. I can only track the resonance of rim particles I have personally marked." Her gaze drifted across the line of captives, her expression unreadable. "I have never touched any of the thirty-seven. That is why I cannot find them."
The words settled over the chamber like frost.
Some soldiers muttered among themselves, doubt gnawing at their confidence. But none dared voice it aloud.
The scientists, though, seized the opening.
"You see?" one of them cried. "We're telling the truth! Even she admits she can't track them! Guren and Kuro kept everything from us. They're the ones you want, not us!"
But their pleas only echoed against steel walls.
Kiyara rose to her feet, brushing back her crimson hair. A faint smile curved her lips, though her eyes held no warmth.
"Enough noise."
She snapped her fingers. Rim chains tightened around the captives, silencing their cries with choked gasps.
Then, without another word, she turned and walked toward the chamber door.
Outside, the night air was cool. The moons — Luna, Riya, Sylpha — drifted high above, bathing the prison in pale silver light.
Kiyara stepped into the shadows of the courtyard, pulling a sleek communicator from her cloak. Her claws tapped against the device as she connected the line.
A crackle, then a voice answered. Deep, commanding, carefully measured.
"Minister Brown."
Kiyara's lips curved into a sharper smile. "It's done. Everything went smoothly. The Soul Lab is erased, the scientists are under lock and key, and the narrative is intact. To the world, they will look like traitors. And we..." She paused, her red eyes gleaming under the moonlight. "…we remain loyal servants."
On the other end, a low chuckle. "Excellent, Kiyara. You've done well. Both you and Riley will be rewarded, as promised."
Her claws tightened around the device. "After the Eclipse power is ours, you'll grant us the positions we deserve. Don't forget that."
"Of course," Brown replied smoothly. "I keep my word."
The line went silent.
Kiyara slipped the communicator back into her cloak, her smile fading into something colder. She looked up at the three moons, her crimson hair glinting faintly.
Behind her, the muffled cries of the scientists echoed from the chamber, drowned by the hum of suppression cuffs.
They were pawns. Sacrifices.
And in the end, no truth would save them.
The government had spoken.
at the same time
The ceiling was white. Too white.
It blurred into his vision like a frozen sky, sterile and suffocating.
Kaito's chest rose and fell unevenly, each breath rattling against the ache in his ribs. His body trembled beneath the thin hospital blanket. Cold spread through his veins as if the chemical that had once filled him lingered even now, refusing to leave.
For a moment, he thought he was still dreaming. Still trapped inside that suffocating capsule, his skin burning, his mind dissolving into screams he couldn't voice.
But then a sound reached him.
A sob.
He turned his head, slowly, painfully.
His mother sat beside the bed, her hands pressed to her face, tears slipping through her fingers. His sister clung to her arm, eyes wide and shining with relief. And beside them stood his father — Sui Hiroshi — a man normally carved from stone. Yet now his sharp jaw trembled, his shoulders shook.
"...Kaito."
The name broke from his father's throat like a prayer.
Kaito's dry lips parted. His voice was faint, almost inaudible.
"...Dad."
In the next instant, his father bent forward, pulling him into a trembling embrace. His arms were firm, almost desperate, as if afraid that if he let go, Kaito would vanish.
His mother leaned in, wiping her tears hastily but unable to stop the stream. "Thank the heavens... thank everything... you're alive..."
"Kaito-niisan!" His sister's voice broke into laughter and sobs all at once. She wrapped her small arms around him, squeezing as if her touch could shield him from all pain.
The warmth of their embrace spread across his frozen body. For the first time since the capsule, he felt alive.
Yet somewhere, deep inside, unease lingered.
The door opened. Footsteps clicked against the polished floor. A doctor entered, clipboard in hand, his white coat swaying. His expression was calm, almost relieved, as he approached the bed.
"Kaito-kun," the doctor said gently. "You've been unconscious for several days. But you're safe now."
Safe.
The word rang hollow in Kaito's ears.
The doctor handed the clipboard to Hiroshi, who scanned the papers quickly. His mother and sister leaned close, their eyes darting across the rows of medical notes.
"No signs of experimentation," the doctor continued. "His body shows no surgical scars, no traces of chemical alteration. The only anomaly was his time inside a capsule — preserved in stasis fluid, but otherwise unharmed."
Kaito blinked. His heart skipped.
No signs...?
He remembered the sting of the injection. The way the chemical burned through his veins. The suffocating sensation of something foreign fusing with his body. That wasn't preservation. That wasn't harmless.
He glanced at the clipboard in his father's hands. The report was clear: No evidence of experimentation.
His parents' relief deepened. His mother kissed his forehead, her tears falling against his skin. His sister giggled through sobs, whispering, "See, niisan? They didn't hurt you."
Kaito forced a smile. He didn't want to break the fragile joy holding them together.
But inside, doubt churned.
The way he had been taken. The way he had walked there — or been led there. The way the capsule closed around him. None of it fit.
It was a mystery. One he couldn't solve.
So he stayed silent.
The doctor excused himself, leaving the family together. His father set the clipboard aside, his hands still trembling.
For a while, they simply sat, clinging to him, unwilling to let go.
Then, as if to break the silence, Hiroshi reached for the remote and turned on the television mounted on the wall.
The news channel flickered on.
The screen showed aerial footage — recovery vehicles, stretchers, crying families. A reporter's voice filled the room.
"Out of the one hundred eighty-seven who vanished, approximately one hundred fifty have been recovered. Thirty-seven remain missing. The government has assured continued search efforts."
The words sank heavily into the room.
Kaito's father exhaled slowly. His voice was low, but there was a glimmer of relief in it.
"At least... at least they did something right this time."
Kaito's mother nodded faintly, still clutching his hand.
But the number — thirty-seven — echoed in Kaito's head. The missing pieces of a puzzle he couldn't grasp.
Hiroshi flipped the channel. A different program appeared, this one showing an astronomical schedule. Diagrams of the moons and the planet, marked with glowing arcs of shadow.
The reporter spoke with calm precision.
"Upcoming eclipses for this year are as follows: August twenty-ninth, lunar eclipse. September fourth and ninth, solar and lunar eclipses. October third, eighth, and nineteenth, multiple eclipses. November: none predicted. December seventh and thirty-first, final eclipses of the year."
The screen shifted to a chart, moons circling, shadows aligning.
Kaito's eyes widened slightly.
"So many..." he whispered.
His father nodded, arms crossed. "That's because of our three moons. Luna, Riya, and Sylpha. Their cycles overlap this year more than most."
Kaito stared at the screen.
Eclipses. Again and again. The word felt heavy, dangerous.
And then — pain.
It began as a spark in his chest, then spread violently, searing through his veins. His vision blurred. The television wavered, the voices distorted.
He gasped, clutching at his blanket.
"Kaito?!" His mother's voice cut through. She leaned forward, panic flooding her face.
His body shook violently, cold and heat colliding within him. Sweat beaded his forehead. His breath came ragged.
The images returned.
The capsule closing. The injection piercing his skin. The chemical coursing through his blood, tearing him apart and stitching him back together. His screams swallowed by liquid.
"No... no, stop—!"
His family's hands gripped his shoulders, trying to steady him.
"Kaito, it's okay! You're safe now!"
But the pain didn't stop. His vision spun wildly. His heart pounded until it felt like it would burst.
He collapsed back against the bed, his body convulsing. His eyes rolled back, and darkness swallowed him whole.
The last thing he heard before
unconsciousness claimed him was his sister's voice, trembling and afraid.
"Niisan... don't leave us again..."
And then — silence.
Only the echo of eclipses burned within him.