The morning sun hid behind a veil of pale clouds. Golden rays filtered weakly through the branches of the tall maple trees surrounding the quiet suburban home. In the upstairs balcony, a young man stood gazing at the dawn sky, his eyes thoughtful and distant. His name was Ginzu.
The stillness broke with a sudden cry.
"Ah… ah—!"
The voice came from the direction of the guest room. Ginzu's heart jumped; he ran down the corridor and pushed open the door. Inside, lying on the bed, Sera had finally regained consciousness. Her body trembled slightly, confusion filling her crimson eyes.
When she saw him, she flinched and whispered, "Who… who are you?"
"I'm Ginzu," he said softly, raising his hands to show he meant no harm. "Please don't panic. You're safe now."
Her eyes darted around the unfamiliar room. "Safe? Why? Who's protecting me—and from what?"
Ginzu frowned. "Wait… you really don't remember anything?"
"What should I remember?" she asked, her voice faint but steady.
"Never mind," Ginzu sighed. "Let's not worry about that right now. By the way… what's your name?"
She paused, struggling to recall. For a long moment, silence filled the room. Then she whispered, "…My name is Sera."
"Hmm. All right, Sera," Ginzu said with a small smile. "Come downstairs when you're ready. Breakfast's waiting."
Something about his calm voice soothed her. The fear that had been gripping her heart slowly melted away. She nodded quietly and watched him leave.
Downstairs, Rourke and Ginzu were seated at the dining table, half-watching the morning news on TV as they ate. The gentle clatter of cutlery and the sound of rain outside filled the silence. Just as Ginzu lifted his cup, light footsteps echoed from the hallway—Sera had come down.
"Oh, Sera! You're awake," Rourke greeted warmly. "Ginzu told me a bit about you."
She nodded politely, still unsure of her surroundings.
"Please," Rourke continued, gesturing toward the table, "join us for breakfast."
Sera lowered her head shyly and took a seat.
Between spoonfuls, Rourke studied her carefully. Then, in a measured tone, he asked, "Sera… you truly don't remember what happened last night, do you?"
She hesitated before answering. "No. I don't remember anything at all."
Before Rourke could respond, the television suddenly caught their attention.
"Good morning. We interrupt our regular program with a breaking news update," the announcer said. "Last night, an unusual magnetic disturbance was detected over the Minatro District. Witnesses reported strange fluctuations in the sky and brief flashes of light resembling aurora activity…"
Ginzu froze. Magnetic disturbance… strange light… He turned to speak, but Rourke abruptly touched his arm and shook his head. Without a word, he led Ginzu to the hallway, away from Sera's hearing.
"Ginzu," Rourke said quietly, his expression grave, "there's something I need to tell you. I should have said this long ago, but the time wasn't right. Now… we can't keep it hidden any longer."
Ginzu blinked in confusion. "What are you talking about, Father?"
Rourke took a deep breath. "Before I married your mother… I was married once before. To another woman."
Ginzu's eyes widened. "You mean—Sera is… your daughter?"
Rourke shook his head firmly. "No. She isn't my child. But listen carefully—Sera's mother was my first wife's daughter. Which means Sera isn't related to us by blood."
Ginzu frowned. "Then why are you telling me this?"
Rourke's voice grew lower. "Because the truth goes far deeper than that. My first wife… wasn't human. She was a demon—the Queen of the Demon Kingdom herself."
The words hit Ginzu like a thunderclap. "What!? Then that means… Sera… she's the daughter of the Demon Queen Asuba?"
"Yes," Rourke said, his eyes dark with memory. "The very same."
Ginzu stepped back, disbelief flooding him. "Then why is she here—in our world?"
"She didn't come by choice," Rourke replied. "She must have crossed through a rift between realms, likely in danger. And now, because of a promise I once made… it's my duty to protect her."
He placed a firm hand on Ginzu's shoulder. "That's why I'm asking this of you, my son. From today onward, you must watch over Sera. Treat her as your own sister. Guard her from anything that seeks to harm her."
Ginzu looked conflicted. The truth was overwhelming—yet when he recalled the terrified girl who had whispered for help, his heart softened.
"…All right," he said finally. "I'll protect her."
Rourke smiled faintly, pride and sorrow mixing in his eyes. He ruffled Ginzu's hair gently. "Good. I knew I could trust you."
He turned toward the door, adjusting his long coat. "I have to attend a meeting at the Rebirth Guardians Hero Association. Until I return, keep Sera safe."
"Yes, Father," Ginzu said firmly. "I will."
The Rebirth Guardians Headquarters stood tall in the heart of Minato City, its glass towers gleaming beneath the gray sky. Inside, the atmosphere was thick with tension. In the central conference chamber, several of the world's most renowned heroes sat in uneasy silence.
Among them were Thunder Vixen, Kuroblade, Nova Fand, and Blaze Monk—each bearing the scars of countless battles. At the head of the table stood Tactical Commander Itsuki and Operations Chief Ayame, both facing a large holographic display filled with fluctuating energy readings.
Blue light flickered across their faces as data streamed on the screen—energy surges, electromagnetic distortions, and visual anomalies spreading across Minato.
Ayame broke the silence. "We still have no confirmed signal from Rourke. His clearance code isn't responding. Not even a trace ping."
Kuroblade folded his arms. "There's no way he'd ignore a Class-A alert like this. Something's off. This could be a breach."
Thunder Vixen nodded grimly. "We need a lead. Without Rourke, we're operating blind."
The room fell silent again. Only the hum of the holographic projector filled the air. Then—
the doors slid open with a soft hiss.
A sudden chill swept through the chamber. Every eye turned toward the entrance.
Rourke stepped inside.
His coat was damp from the rain, his expression unreadable, his eyes sharp with resolve. The tension in the room shifted instantly; whispers died, chairs creaked, and the air seemed to hold its breath.
"...Finally," Commander Itsuki muttered, half-relieved, half-wary.
Rourke walked calmly to his seat at the council table. He paused for a moment, letting the silence settle. Then, clearing his throat, he said in a voice that carried through the hall:
"Let's begin. We have a lot to discuss."