Neon Country, Juwang City.
A rainy night spread over the city like an ink-and-oil painting.
The dark sky was streaked with delicate threads of rain, falling like a brushstroke, making the quiet city feel even more enchanting.
Streetlights reflected off the glass windows, casting soft halos of light.
On rainy nights, late in the evening, pedestrians were always few and far between.
And this was even more true in the suburbs.
Only the rain pattered against the ground, sending ripples of sound through the empty streets.
Amid this rainy night, a man over 1.8 meters tall walked, holding a black umbrella in one hand, the other tucked casually into his pocket.
His black eyes shone with a sharp, piercing intensity. Anyone who met his gaze would feel a shiver at the sheer force behind it.
He wore a loose windbreaker over a hooded long shirt. Even though the clothes were baggy, his tall, commanding figure was impossible to miss.
Water vapor clung to his broad, upright shoulders, and above them was a lean, handsome face. His eyes stared straight ahead, moving forward like a battleship cutting through the night.
Compared to the hurried pedestrians passing by, Rokou stood out like a crane among chickens — dazzlingly so.
He strolled through the drizzle, wandering the city streets on his weekend outing. Only after dusk did he start heading home.
Although the rain had begun during his walk, he had checked the forecast beforehand and prepared an umbrella, so he remained dry.
Not that getting wet would have bothered him much.
Halfway along his route, a faint cry for help reached his ears from a nearby alley.
As he approached, the cries became more urgent.
Peering into the shadows, he saw a beautiful woman at the far end of the alley.
She wore a smart women's suit skirt and black stockings, now torn and soaked from the rain, giving her a somewhat tragic but striking appearance.
"What's wrong?"
Rokou asked calmly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, immediately understanding the situation.
"I… I heard a cat making noise here, so I came to check. But the cat was so skittish it scared me, and then I fell, twisting my foot," the woman explained, her expression pitiful. She held her right leg, which bore faint streaks of blood.
"Little… brother, could you take me home? My house is just across this alley," she added.
The alley stretched about fifty meters, dimly lit by a single streetlamp in the center, its glow faint, as if it might flicker out at any moment.
"All right," Rokou said, nodding.
He extended a hand to help her up, and she leaned lightly against him.
A faint scent of perfume drifted toward him, and he could feel her soft arms pressing against his own.
"Little brother… when we get to my place, I can give you a reward, okay?" she said, a teasing tone in her voice.
"What do you want?" he asked simply.
"My house… it's just up ahead, almost there," she replied.
"We've arrived," he said flatly.
He seemed unmoved by her words, but as they reached the midpoint of the alley, he spoke again.
At that moment, the streetlight flickered several times and then went out entirely. Darkness swallowed the surroundings, and he could barely see his own hand in front of him.
"What do you mean 'arrived'? My house is still a bit further…" she said.
But before she could finish, the man she leaned on suddenly let go, sending her sprawling into a puddle.
"You…"
A flash of anger and confusion lit her eyes in the dark.
Before she could say more, Rokou's voice cut through the night:"Stop pretending. There are only two of us here… no, only me — and you, a filthy ghoul."
Hearing this, the woman instantly froze, her expression hardening as a cold, pale face emerged from the shadows."When did you notice me?" she demanded.
"From the beginning. The smell of your blood is so strong, even the rain and your makeup can't mask it," Rokou replied calmly.
"You noticed me from the very start?"
The woman faltered, then parted her lips, revealing sharp teeth.
"In that case, there's no need to pretend anymore. But before you become my meal, can you tell me… if you noticed me so early, why did you still come into my trap?"
She licked her lips, eyes fixed on Rokou, her hunger for flesh growing. She even began calculating how she might prepare her prey.
"…First, I cannot ignore the cries of a weak woman. Second, the one who falls into the trap may not be the prey, but the hunter," he said quietly.
The woman paused, stunned.
"Are you an exorcist? A sorcerer? Or one of those human 'White Pigeons'?" she asked, beginning to realize that the young man before her was no ordinary human.
Whether an exorcist or a sorcerer, each carries a distinct aura. Even the 'White Pigeons,' whose weapons are crafted from ghoul flesh, exude it.
Yet she sensed nothing of the sort from Rokou.
This proved one thing: he appeared to be just an ordinary human.