Drip. Drip. Drip.
Raindrops splashed onto the pavement, turning the streetlights into golden specks.
In weather like this, you don't want to go anywhere. It's better to stay at home, warm and quiet, listening to the rain drumming outside the window.
It's always easy to find a reason not to go anywhere. Too bad that tonight it didn't work.
Wrapped in a wet jacket, I walked through the dimly lit streets of Osaka, ignoring the suspicious glances of passersby.
A nightclub stood not far away. Shiny signs and billboards. Rows of cars parked along the driveway. People going about their business. All of them were absorbed in their own thoughts.
All these people are looking at me. Looking for a victim.
Why am I here again?
I ran my palm along my neck. Sweat mixed with raindrops slid down my skin.
They know. They see. They're getting closer. I need to hide.
"Calm down. No one is looking at you…"
It's been four years since all of this started.
I wiped my wet cheeks and smoothed my tangled hair. In the darkness, no one can really tell what kind of person you are.
But I can feel it. Their intense stares drive me crazy. Their gazes make me nervous.
I pulled my cap down, hiding my eyes under the brim. Now my face was almost completely hidden. But I was still surrounded by enemies. They wanted to hurt me.
I pressed myself against the wall and shrank in fear.
"I need to run! Run while there's still time!"
But there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Everyone wanted to hurt me. They would kill me.
Just one step…
"Brother, are you okay?" A man's hand settled on my shoulder, making me flinch. He leaned in and looked at me.
I froze. The sound of the rain faded.
"It's okay. I'm here with you. See?" A faint smile appeared on his face. "There's nothing to be afraid of."
I closed my eyes, trying to calm my wildly beating heart.
"…Ah," relief washed over me, and I took a deep breath. "…Alright, I understand…"
"We'll go together. Is that okay?" The man took my elbow and gently helped me stand.
"Yes…"
The rain stopped.
We walked side by side past the crowds of people and flashing billboards, ignoring the neon signs and club lights. Our shadows stretched across the pavement, merging with the puddles left after the downpour. The noise and commotion around us faded into the background.
"Thank you…" I said quietly, turning to face him.
My brother. My own brother. For some reason, I couldn't make out his face. It was blurred somehow. But it didn't matter anymore.
He laughed and waved his hand.
"Don't worry. Everyone has moments when they need to ask for help from someone who cares."
"Ding-dong. Ding-dong."
Suddenly my phone rang in my pocket.
"Ah, I need to answer…"
Just as I reached for the phone—
"Wait. No one is calling you, right?" My brother stopped me, gripping my hand painfully. "Right? Or was there someone?"
His gaze seemed empty. Dead eyes looked at me, draining all confidence and hope from my soul.
"Right… No one calls me. I'm all alone now…"
He slowly nodded, releasing my hand. The rain grew heavier.
"Sorry…" he said. "Just wanted to make sure. Let's go already."
Street food stalls lined the sidewalk, their owners calling out to customers with bright posters. We approached one of them. He gave the vendor a few yen and ordered sake with snacks.
We ate in silence, listening to the rain beating against the stall's tin roof.
"Do you remember this place? We used to come here often…" he asked, leaning forward. "Go on, drink! This sake is wonderful. The alcohol in this world is really good."
The alcohol warmed my body and soul, and I drank greedily, spilling it all over myself.
"Hey! Easy! You'll choke…"
"I like to drink!"
He nodded slowly.
"Come on, give me more." I reached for the sake bottle. "I can't take this anymore! I'm tired of living like this!"
I drank another cup. Warmth spread through my body. The world blurred before my eyes.
"I don't want to live anymore." Tears streamed down my cheeks. "I just don't want to anymore…"
"Shh. It's alright. Don't worry…" He hugged me tighter, patting my back. His clawed hands scraped painfully along my spine.
His embrace calmed me.
My brother leaned closer and whispered something into my ear.
"I don't blame you. Just breathe," he repeated, stroking my back.
"…Yeah… I'm breathing… I'm breathing…" I mumbled in response, feeling warm tears flow down my face.
When the intensity of it all faded, he let me go and handed me a napkin to wipe my face. A bitter, sour aftertaste lingered in my throat.
"Sorry… I cry so easily… I always ruin other people's lives with my stupid whining…"
"You showed courage by agreeing to come with me. Many wouldn't have, but you did. Be proud of yourself," he said, handing me a cup of noodles. "So don't call yourself useless. You did well."
I swallowed nervously, biting my lip. A feeling of worthlessness washed over me.
"…You're the one who did well… not me." I lowered my head.
"But you followed me," he continued. "That matters. Now eat. You've barely touched your plate."
The half-eaten noodles hung in my mouth. Raindrops played their monotonous melody.
"Brother… do you hate me too?"
"Why would I hate you?" His eyebrows rose in surprise. He opened his mouth but didn't make a sound.
Instead, he simply nodded, as if accepting my words.
"Brother…" I called again. "I'm scared. I don't know what to do…"
I sniffled, lowering my head.
"I understand you," he said. "It was hard, wasn't it? It could happen to anyone, and it's not your fault… Being beaten and humiliated… That must be… difficult?"
His voice sounded as if he didn't truly understand what was wrong.
"…Really?"
"Yes, it's not your fault. What happened was terrible, but it's in the past. And we need to move on. You need to move forward, and I'll follow you, together."
His fingers tightened around the chopsticks, and he began nervously fidgeting with them. As if he didn't know how to use them. Holding them for the first time, he tried to figure them out but snapped them by applying too much force.
I lowered my head.
"Just let it go and move on. Life doesn't end here. Think of something good. For example, how to become stronger."
My mouth felt unpleasant. Lies. Does he even understand me?
"Something you like doing. Maybe you can find something to be interested in?"
Something started rising inside me. A lump formed in my chest.
I didn't know what to say. He kept spewing nonsense about how easy it was to change your life and find something meaningful. Of course. It didn't happen to him. How could I believe that?
How can I trust a liar? But…
"I envy you," the man said. "Your situation isn't as bad as you think. So be grateful."
To him, this whole conversation was probably just entertainment. Anger flared within me. It began to boil inside, like a kettle ready to burst.
"So if you try, you can fix everything. Your parents love you, they're always on your side and will help you. Just give them a chance."
"…stop," I asked.
"They'll do everything possible and impossible to make your situation better, and it's up to you whether you want to do something about it."
"Stop!"
My voice froze on my lips and turned into a rasp.
He shrugged.
"What's stopping you from living like before? Resentment? Anger?" He shook his head. "If you keep this up, we'll never achieve anything."
Nothing can replace him. I lost my brother.
"Your father?"
He kept going.
"Those guys who beat you up?"
"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!"
Anger, resentment, fury burst inside me. Tears welled up in my eyes. I felt trampled into the dirt, kicked, beaten.
I wanted to scream. To shout. To howl. To tell this piece of shit everything I thought of him for daring to talk to me like that.
He looked surprised.
"You don't even know what you're talking about… You talk like you understand me… like I have nothing to fear…"
All those memories flooded in: humiliation, fear, shame, guilt.
He just stared at me silently.
There's nothing to strive for. No point in trying. Nothing left. Silence hung between us.
If only I hadn't spoken back then. If only I had held my tongue in front of those bastards. If I had… then… then… none of this would have happened.
"Ding-dong. Ding-dong."
Somewhere at the edge of my hearing came a faint sound. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered. What was left behind was too insignificant to care about.
"Parents? What did they do when they found out? What did they do!? Just pretended nothing happened! Damn hypocrites!"
Now I felt nothing but disgust toward myself. Because I was a coward.
"They shoved their tongues up their asses and pretended nothing happened!"
"Ding-dong. Ding-dong." "Ding-dong. Ding-dong."
The sound came again. Repeated. Louder. But no one paid attention. It didn't matter.
"They just told me, 'Apologize.' Ha-ha… As if I should apologize to those bastards!"
Pain pierced my chest. I tried to pull myself together, but tears still streamed down my face.
I hate this.
I hate my life. I hate my choices. I hate the whole world. I hate my parents. I hate my brother. I hate myself.
"Ding-dong. Ding-dong." "Ding-dong. Ding-dong." "Ding-dong. Ding-dong."
And I hate that damn phone ringing!
"You should've just killed them instead of hiding in the closet like a little bitch."
A heavily distorted voice came from somewhere to the right. As if several people spoke at once. The intonation shifted chaotically—male, female, elderly… sometimes it sounded like a thousand different voices mixed together.
"Ding-dong. Ding-dong." "Ding-dong. Ding-dong." "Ding-dong. Ding-dong." "Ding-dong. Ding-dong."
The ringing grew louder.
"You should've finished them! Killed all humans! Cut off their heads and put them on spikes! Rip off their balls and burn them! But no. You chickened out. Coward!"
My brother. No, that wasn't my brother. A horribly distorted face that had always been there. But I hadn't noticed it. Didn't want to notice.
"Useless idiot. Humans like you are worthless! Pathetic! Especially you."
He sat down on the table in front of me and stared. Grinned. His mouth stretched unnaturally from ear to ear.
"Maybe you should've spared your useless parents from your equally useless carcass? Ha-ha-ha."
He laughed.
"Jump off the roof. Just take a step and fly. Ha-ha-ha! And your brains would splatter across the pavement! But instead you decided to play the hero."
The table split in half. Plates fell, spilling their contents. Everything hung suspended in the air.
"Do you remember that moment? Those two landed right in front of you! You tried to save them, and what good did it do? They splattered you from head to toe. Ha-ha-ha. Isn't it funny? Even when you try to help, everything goes wrong."
I covered my ears with my hands, but I could still hear him. His laughter grew even louder.
Everything else disappeared. Only darkness remained. In that darkness, he was there, laughing and speaking.
"Ding-dong. Ding-dong."
"Ding-dong. Ding-dong."
"Who are you?" His laughter stopped. Suddenly.
As if time itself had frozen.
"Who am I?"
He leaned in, almost touching my face. I couldn't make out his features—they were blurred. He narrowed his eyes, staring straight into mine.
YOU KNOW.
His voice echoed inside my head. Loud. Deafening.
I tried to cover my ears, but it was useless. He kept screaming directly into my brain.
A sudden explosion threw me back. When I opened my eyes, everything was engulfed in flames. Darkness turned into fire. Hot air burned my throat.
"Ding-dong. Ding-dong" "Ding-dong. Ding-dong" "Ding-dong. Ding-dong" "Ding-dong. Ding-dong"
A red sky loomed above me.
He jumped off the table. Now he was twice my height. The ground trembled under his feet. Fire raged around us, devouring everything in its path.
SAY MY NAME.
His eyes burned black, full of rage. He clenched his fists.
SAY MY NAME! SPEAK!
My legs gave out. I fell to my knees. Heat surrounded me from all sides. But despite the raging fire, it felt cold.
My throat was dry. It felt like if I spoke his name, the world would collapse entirely.
"XXX," I said.
And suddenly everything fell apart. Everything around me began to crumble. The fire died, replaced by endless darkness.
A giant figure emerged before me, consumed by darkness. Only a blood-red stone glowing where its forehead should have been illuminated it.
"Ding-dong. Ding-dong" "Ding-dong. Ding-dong" "Ding-dong. Ding-dong" "Ding-dong. Ding-dong"
They're calling you. Answer. It's rude to ignore calls.
The phone vibrated nonstop. With a trembling hand, I picked up the smartphone. It was hard to breathe because of the lump in my throat. My heart pounded wildly in my chest.
"Y-yes?"
"Rudy."
A sudden jolt in my chest. Air filled my lungs. I…
***
The house was no longer the same. Locked windows, muffled footsteps that now sounded unbearably loud. Everything had frozen.
Three days had passed.
Three days since Rudy had miraculously survived. Zenith hadn't left his bedside—Lilia knew that. And Paul as well. He tried to stay composed, but even his usual bravado had faded over these days. They were all bound by a single thought: when he would wake up.
Lilia stood by the wall, watching. Paul paced back and forth, rubbing the bridge of his nose grimly. Zenith sat at the edge of the bed, her fingers gripping the sheet. Thin marks from her nails were visible on her hands—she kept digging them into the fabric again and again. Dark circles shadowed her eyes.
"Will he recover?" Lilia asked quietly.
"His fever's gone," Zenith replied without lifting her head. "All we can do now is wait."
Her voice was hoarse from exhaustion. All her strength and magic had gone into healing him. Paul exhaled loudly, sat on a chair, and leaned his elbows on his knees.
"How the hell was he even able to do that?" his voice came out unexpectedly sharp. "He's five years old, for Creator's sake."
Lilia didn't answer right away. She remembered seeing the boy with Zenith's books, seeing him near her room late at night. She'd noticed, but never thought it necessary to interfere. Back then it seemed like harmless childish curiosity.
Now, looking at the bandaged arm, she understood how wrong she'd been.
"I don't know," Zenith finally answered.
"Nonsense," Paul muttered. "Kids can't pull off something like that. This… this isn't just magic, it's—"
"He shouldn't have been able to reach the grimoire," Zenith cut him off. Her fingers tightened.
She abruptly turned to Lilia.
"It's your responsibility, Lilia, to keep an eye on him. And now my son is crippled because you allowed him to use dangerous magic."
Paul tensed.
"Zenith…"
Paul let out a rough breath, but Zenith wasn't stopping.
"Lilia, you said he went up the hill. But he came back through the back entrance, and no one even noticed."
Lilia narrowed her eyes slightly, but her voice remained calm as always:
"He knows how to stay unseen."
"Unseen?" Zenith scoffed. "He's five years old!"
Paul shook his head and ran a hand down his face.
"What difference does it make now? It's already done."
Zenith bit her lip but didn't argue. All they could do was wait.
"Sorry, Lili. She doesn't really think it's your fault… she's just looking for someone to unload her anger on."
Lilia nodded. She knew. She had never needed anyone's excuses.
But Zenith was still boiling.
"It could've cost him his life… Do you understand that?"
She clutched the sheet, then Rudy's hand.
"I know…" Paul said, rubbing his face. "I'm sorry."
But it wasn't enough. Zenith turned away, clenching her teeth. Lilia could see her shoulders trembling, but she didn't allow herself to break. Paul looked aside. He didn't know how to handle this. He could yell, he could fight, but comforting others had always been hard for him.
Silence settled over the room.
Only the occasional uneven breath broke it. Rudy was still unconscious. Lilia watched as Zenith gently wiped his face with a damp cloth, removing the traces of sweat.
Time crawled.
And then—
He moved.
His fingers twitched, his breathing deepened. Lilia noticed it first, but said nothing. A few seconds later, Zenith sensed the change too, her eyes flaring with worry and hope.
"Rudy?" Zenith's voice was cautious.
The boy jerked. His face twisted, his breath caught, and he groaned as if in pain. He mumbled something under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut, his hands clenching into fists.
"Rudy, it's me…"
A sharp intake of breath.
His eyes flew open. He began gasping for air.
***
Time seemed to stop.
I could barely breathe. Every breath was painful; it felt like knives were stabbing into my lungs. Even moving my eyes took effort.
"Rudy…"
Everything hurt. My whole body was numb, yet painfully sensitive to even the slightest motion.
"Are you alright?" A soft voice, familiar.
"Zenith?" My voice came out hoarse, barely audible.
Warmth. I was pulled into a firm embrace, but the touch sparked a new wave of pain. Nausea washed over me; cold sweat broke across my skin.
"Easy… It's alright…"
A few moments passed before the wave subsided. I coughed, my throat burning.
"Water…" I muttered.
Light footsteps, the quiet sound of liquid being poured. Lilia. She brought a cup to my lips. I tried to lift my hand, but I didn't have the strength.
"Let me help you," her tone was steady, but I noticed a faint tremble in her fingers as she supported my head.
A sip. Another. Cool water touched my tongue, spread down my throat, pulling me back into reality.
Lilia gently set the cup aside. I caught a flicker of worry in her eyes, though she remained expressionless as always.
"How do you feel?" Paul asked cautiously.
His question stunned me. Memories flooded in, vivid and sharp. Images flashed through my mind, stabbing through my senses with overwhelming intensity. I remembered everything.
The feeling of my arm being torn apart, flesh shredding, blood running down my fingers—all of it crashed into me. Panic gripped me, and I looked around wildly.
"My arm! My arm!"
Zenith immediately placed her hand on me, stopping my movement.
"Easy… it's alright." There was no trace of the harshness I expected in her voice.
I looked down. A bandaged limb. Layers of tightly wrapped cloth hid what was left of my arm. I tried wiggling my fingers. They responded—weakly, sluggishly, but they responded.
"So… it didn't fall off…" My voice broke.
I exhaled. Reality slowly settled in. Memories flashed in my mind: the day I read the book, my careless words, the attempt at using magic. The swirl of wind, the smell of blood, the sharp pain.
And something else…
A familiar feeling.
A cold presence, like someone watching me through a veil of nightmare.
Then another image surfaced—terrifying, something that shouldn't have come to mind. I blinked, pushing it away.
Zenith met my eyes. No joy, no relief. Only exhaustion. Dark circles under her eyes, hair disheveled. Paul kept a steady face, but I could see he still hadn't figured out how to process any of this.
"Rudy," Paul said, tension in his voice. "What you did was incredibly stupid."
He sat on the bed beside me, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Honestly, I don't even know where to begin…"
"You read this book?" Zenith interrupted.
She held the grimoire in front of me. Dark cover, faded symbols. Sharp flashes of memory—reciting those words, something snapping inside me, then the wind ripping me apart.
I swallowed.
"Yes," I answered honestly.
Zenith let out a tired sigh, closing her eyes.
"Who taught you to read it?"
"No one."
She frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"I didn't learn it from anyone."
Silence.
I felt uneasy. Fear. Fear that they would think I was some kind of freak.
They might get scared of me. Or try to fix me somehow. Or maybe they'd just get rid of me! The thought made my breath catch.
"Well… how did you understand it then?" Zenith's tone was sharp, but not angry. She studied me closely.
My heart raced. I didn't know how to explain it. I just knew. Those symbols were unfamiliar, but once I focused on them, the meaning surfaced through the letters. As if I were remembering something I had never learned.
"I just… see their meaning. Not right away, but… I can understand it."
Zenith stared at me for a long moment, then leaned back.
"Magic is dangerous, Rudy. Even adults rarely understand books like this. That's why I didn't let you take it."
I looked around. All eyes were on me. Even though Zenith and Paul said kind things, the air was heavy with tension.
"Yes… now I understand…" My gaze dropped to my arm.
A phantom pain twisted my joints, reminding me of the damage I'd caused. Their minds were full of questions, doubts, and worries. There was no escaping that.
"My arm… is it…"
"You almost lost it, Rudy. If it weren't for me, we wouldn't have been able to put it back together…"
Zenith spoke quietly. Her eyes looked dark and empty.
"You were lucky this time, but that luck won't always be there." She placed her hand on my head, gently stroking. "Magic is very dangerous… Promise me… promise me you won't do something like this again."
She looked straight into my eyes, her gaze intense and piercing. It felt like she could see through me, down to my very core. Her blue eyes seemed to see everything—my guilt, confusion, fear.
A chill ran down my back, my pulse quickened as I met her gaze.
"But… it's magic…" The words slipped out before I could stop them.
"I can't believe this. You almost ripped your arm off, and you still want to continue?!"
As if reading my thoughts, Zenith frowned deeply. I flinched under her disapproving stare.
I stared into the distance, unable to express how important this realization was to me. In my previous world, I had nothing like this. Now I had felt this power. Touched it. And now I was supposed to just let it go? No. I couldn't.
Zenith closed her eyes, rubbing her temples.
"I don't understand you…"
Paul let out a small, tired chuckle.
"I'm proud of you, Rudy. You managed to do it. But I'm also afraid for you." He sighed. "If you want to study magic, you have to do it properly. If we let you keep learning uncontrolled, one day you won't just hurt yourself."
He paused.
"You might kill someone."
The words pierced straight through me.
I froze.
"But… the grimoire… if I don't study it…"
My chest tightened, a lump formed in my throat. It took all my courage to speak the next words.
"Could I…?"
They exchanged glances, speaking silently in a way only the two of them understood. After a moment, Zenith gave a small nod.
"We'll find you a teacher… but you're not getting the book. It's combat magic, you don't need to study it."
Disappointment washed over me, but I had no choice. At least they weren't forbidding me from learning magic altogether.
I nodded weakly.
"Alright…"