Chapter One — The Gate of Black Veil
The gates of Black Veil Penitentiary rose like iron teeth against a gray, rain-soaked sky, jagged and unwelcoming. Kaito hunched into his jacket, letting the cold drizzle soak through the fabric and chill him to the bone. Behind him, Shadow moved with the same silent menace he always carried, scanning the walls and guards like a predator sizing up its prey. Kaito kept his gaze low. Survival first. Words would come later.
The prison car rolled through the massive archway, wheels splashing in puddles dark with oil and grime. Guards leaned out, rifles glinting, faces blank, expressionless. Kaito's stomach twisted. He'd heard stories about this place: people went in whole and came out broken, if they came out at all. Inside, the prison seemed to breathe—a metallic, oppressive rhythm that drummed against his chest.
Processing was a blur. Mugshots, fingerprints, stamped numbers that would replace their names: 09 for Kaito, 10 for Shadow. The cuffs fell away, but they felt heavier than ever,
binding more than wrists—binding them to a system that didn't care who they were, only what they could break down into.
"East Wing," a guard barked at Kaito, shoving him forward. "Keep him in line."Shadow sneered, lips curling. "Like I'm gonna follow your rules?"Kaito tugged him by the sleeve. "Not here," he whispered. "We survive first."
The east wing was a gray labyrinth of steel and peeling paint, where whispers ran faster than the inmates themselves. Eyes followed him, small, precise judgments, watching for weakness, for hesitation, for fear. Kaito noticed every twitch of muscle, every flick of a glance, cataloging threats and opportunities alike. Survival was strategy.
Meanwhile, Shadow had been thrown into the north wing—the violent sector. A fight erupted the moment he walked in, teeth and fists clashing. Kaito felt it through the walls: the storm his brother carried, a hurricane of reckless strength that could save or destroy them both.
That night, Kaito lay on the narrow cot, staring at the ceiling. The prison had a rhythm all its own—chains rattling, distant screams echoing, doors slamming like heartbeat drums. Somewhere deep below, the walls whispered in a language only the guilty seemed to understand.
Then he saw it. A faint glow along the veins of his wrist, flickering like a shadow trapped under his skin. The mark burned faintly, a sigil older than the prison itself. His father's voice echoed in his mind: "If you ever see the mark again, run. Don't fight it… not yet."
Kaito swallowed hard, fingers clenching. The blood from the warehouse, the sirens, the night—they all felt like a warning now. Black Veil wasn't just a prison. It was a cage. And something inside it wanted him, wanted them both.
He glanced toward the barred window. Shadow's silhouette flickered in the dim light of the north wing, grinning as another fight erupted. Kaito's jaw tightened. He wouldn't lose his brother. He wouldn't lose himself. Not yet.
Outside, the rain fell harder, a storm wrapping the prison in shadow. Inside, chains rattled and whispers grew. Black Veil had its first visitor: a quiet, relentless sense that nothing here would remain the same.