The Guests Under the Silver Crest
Akemi & Shiho Arrive at Runcandel Mansion
The night air over southern France was calm, moonlight washing over iron gates engraved with the Runcandel crest—a silver sigil that quietly radiated authority.
A black, unmarked car rolled to a stop.
Grayfia Lucifuge stepped forward first, her presence composed and absolute.
"Welcome," she said gently. "You are safe here."
The rear door opened.
Akemi Miyano (18) stepped out first, auburn hair tied back, eyes sharp despite the fatigue she tried to hide. Years of living cautiously had carved awareness into her movements. She instinctively turned back—
—and reached for her sister.
Shiho Miyano (12) followed, smaller frame wrapped in a pale coat, eyes wide but observant. She took in the mansion, the guards positioned with precision, the silence that felt… controlled rather than threatening.
"This place…" Shiho murmured. "It's not like the others."
Akemi nodded. "No. It's not."
Keith stepped forward from the mansion entrance.
Silver-platinum hair caught the moonlight. Sapphire-blue eyes met theirs—not cold, not probing, but steady.
"I'm Keith Argus Runcandel," he said calmly. "From now on, this is your home."
Shiho looked at him for a long second.
"…You don't look like someone who lies."
Akemi was slightly startled by that—but Keith simply smiled faintly.
"I don't," he replied. "Especially not to family."
That word—family—made Akemi's chest tighten.
Grayfia gestured toward the entrance. "Your rooms are prepared. Full security, medical access, and privacy protocols. No one enters without your permission."
As they walked inside, Shiho glanced back once at the gates as they closed.
For the first time in years, she felt something unfamiliar.
Relief.
Elsewhere — A Predator Feels the Gaze
Rain fell softly over a distant European city.
Shuichi Akai stood near a café window, coat collar raised, eyes reflecting faint neon light. To anyone watching, he was just another tall man lost in thought.
But something was wrong.
He took a sip of coffee—and froze.
That sensation again.
Not the clumsy attention of surveillance teams.
Not the tension of a tail.
This was different.
Clean. Silent. Precise.
Like a scope that wasn't there.
Akai didn't turn. Didn't react outwardly. Instead, his senses expanded, every reflection in the glass becoming data.
I'm being watched.
But no matter how he traced the feeling—angles, reflections, timing—there was nothing.
No footsteps.
No cameras.
No electronic echo.
Only certainty.
"…Tch," he muttered internally.
"Whoever you are… you're not FBI. And you're not CIA."
He finished his coffee and stood, deliberately changing routes twice, then three times.
The sensation followed.
Not closer.
Not farther.
Just… there.
Akai's jaw tightened.
A ghost with eyes, he thought.
Or a king on the board.
Far away, within the quiet heart of the Runcandel domain, Red Queen's holographic eyes glowed softly.
Red Queen:
Subject Shuichi Akai confirms awareness of observation.
Identity remains unknown to target.
Keith watched the feed, expression unreadable.
"Good," he said softly.
"Let him wonder."