Far away on a deserted stretch of coastline, hidden behind massive rocks, the night wind swept across the shore.
Clothes fluttered violently, and a sharp whistling sound filled the air.
A group of burly men dragged down two large black sacks and tossed them onto the sand.
"Damn, this place gives me the creeps," one of them muttered, brushing sand off his boots.
"Just hurry it up," another replied. "Young master David told us to dump them here and leave. No questions."
"Yes," the first man scoffed. "By the way that guy's getting more ruthless. Two bodies in one night."
"Keep your voice down," the third man hissed. "Don't mouth off about someone like him. We can't afford to… unless you want to end up like them."
They fell silent for a moment, staring at the two sacks lying motionless on the beach.
"So… that's it?" one of them asked uneasily.
"Yeah. Toss them farther out, then we're gone," another said. "This place is safe for this kind of thing. No one's gonna find out. The waves will take care of the rest."
Just as they were about to move—
The wind stopped.
No—it was swallowed.
A chill crawled up their spines.
"…Did you feel that?" one of them whispered.
Before anyone could respond, a shadow detached itself from the darkness behind the rocks.
A masked figure stepped forward, his presence silent yet overwhelming.
"W-What the—?!"
In a blink, he was already there.
Despite their large builds, fear overwhelmed them completely. They could only scream and run as fast as their legs would carry them.
The masked man—Al—let out a soft laugh. He had no real business with them; his goal had only been to give them a little scare.
"Big bodies, tiny courage," he muttered with a chuckle. "Haha."
Moments later, only the sound of waves remained.
Al stood calmly as two figures dressed in black approached the two black sacks, which had begun to drift with the tide.
With ease, the two men dragged the sacks back and placed them before Al.
"Open them. Check," Al ordered.
The two figures crouched down and pulled out what was inside the sacks.
Slowly—
Two barely breathing bodies were revealed, their condition pitiful beyond words.
Bia and Mail.
One of the men in black shuddered slightly at the sight of the bruises and blood still seeping from their bodies.
Both men quickly examined them.
"They're still breathing," the one checking Bia reported. "Very weak, but alive."
"This one too, Master," the other added after checking Mail. "Still alive."
Al looked slightly impressed.
"After the way David punished them so brutally, they're still alive," he said calmly. "Not bad."
He then removed his mask.
His pupils shifted, turning blood-red.
"Master… you don't have to—" one of the men in black began.
"It's fine," Al cut him off. "I don't want to use the organization's assets for my personal grudge."
The two men could only lower their heads in obedience.
Meanwhile, Al raised one hand, fingers spread forward.
Dark crimson energy surged from his body. An energy circle formed beneath his feet, and the pressure it released overwhelmed even the fierce coastal winds.
Al's gaze sharpened, his eyes burning with a crimson glow—until a thin trail of blood began to trickle from the corner of his eye.
And then—
CKRACKK
A spatial fracture tore open in front of him.
Slowly, inch by inch, the crack widened—until a pitch-black dimensional opening, as large as a doorway, fully formed.
This was nothing like the spatial room he had opened inside his quarters.
This dimensional gate was far more oppressive, its very nature different.
A horrifying aura spilled out from within. Nearby creatures—both physical and spiritual—fled instinctively, as if sensing absolute danger.
"Master… are you alright?" one of them asked cautiously.
Al lowered his hand and exhaled slowly. His eyes never left the dimensional opening.
"I'm fine," he said calmly. "Let's go."
With that, Al stepped into the dimensional gate—followed closely by the two men, each carrying Bia and Mail.
---
Meanwhile, in David's room…
Far from the evening's lingering tension and the now-quiet dining hall, David's private room stood in chilling silence.
Located on the second floor of the eastern wing of the Virellano main house, the room was vast, but held a cold, unwelcoming aura—like something unseen lurked beneath the surface.
The walls were draped in dark blue fabric with gold trimming, lending an air of restrained luxury.
A crystal chandelier flickered faintly above, offering barely enough light to fill the space.
The only true illumination came from a single candle, glowing quietly atop a black lacquered table in the corner.
At the center of the room, David stood calmly. His nightwear—black silk trimmed with silver—looked more like a military uniform than something meant for sleep.
His eyes were sharp. Controlled.
Before him lay more than a dozen chessboards, each arranged differently, with varying numbers of pieces.
Familiar names were etched onto every board—Edward, Sandra, the six daughters of the Virellano family, and several others.
He stood before the board bearing Aurielle's name. The formation was still far from checkmate, not even close to check, as if the game remained perfectly balanced.
Beside it was the board labeled Sandra, one that needed only a few more moves before checkmate.
He felt satisfied with several of the boards… yet others continued to irritate him.
Soon, he walked to the far end, beside the board labeled Lysha. An empty table stood there, waiting.
He placed a new board on it and began arranging the pieces.
The setup ended with one pawn fallen on David's side—as if the opponent on that board had already claimed his first piece.
When he attached the nameplate to the board, his teeth clenched. Irritation surged, and dark energy leaked from his body.
The name read:
Al
A figure he had dismissed—yet one who had already disrupted his opening move.
Moments later, he calmed himself and turned away.
He stared toward a shadowy corner of the room, untouched by light—where a man stood silently.
Dressed in the formal uniform of a Virellano servant—black coat, white gloves—he might have looked ordinary, if not for the fact that his face remained completely hidden in shadow.
As if he weren't part of this world at all, but a shade that consumed both light and sound.
The antique clock ticked slowly, creating a tense rhythm in the silence.
David sat back in his luxurious chair, crossing his legs as he spoke—his tone calm, yet commanding. It was the voice of a young noble, not that of an ordinary teenager.
"What do you think of that boy?"
The shadow gave no answer.
David looked toward the heavy velvet curtain covering the window.
"He's no ordinary orphan. Too quiet. Too composed. His eyes… they hold something. Like he's waiting."
He turned his gaze back to the shadow, his eyes colder now.
"I don't like things I can't predict."
Then, in a low, steel-edged voice:
"Watch him. Find his weakness. If necessary… eliminate him."
The shadow nodded once—barely visible. Silent and lethal, like a being from another realm.
David rose from his chair. His posture was straight, movements fluid but resolute.
He stepped to the window, pulling back a sliver of curtain to peer toward the small building in the garden—Al's new residence.
"He's sleeping there tonight. The place I once shared with my cat… before it died, years ago," he whispered. A trace of sentiment, perhaps, but none in his eyes.
"Sleep well tonight, my misplaced brother…" A faint smile curled on his lips.
"Because tomorrow… you'll begin to disappear. Slowly. Silently. Like a shadow when the sun dies."
He let the curtain fall shut.
When he turned, the shadow was gone—vanished as if it had never existed.
David didn't flinch.
He simply smiled again.
This time, thinner.
Colder.
Let the game begin.
---