"Ow!" Kenji yelped as a needle pricked his skin.
The doctor gave him a glance, collecting his blood. Once done, Kenji exited the booth — rubbing his arm.
"Next!" The doctor called out, and the next person in line walked in.
It's been a few weeks since his detainment. After getting all patched up, Kenji was allowed to leave under the condition that he would've been monitored.
And monitored, he was. Kenji managed to catch glimpses of a few people following him, cameras locking in on his position, and he had nearly eaten a wiretap planted in his cereal box back in his suite.
'God, they really aren't kidding around.' Kenji wryly thought. 'No doubt they were looking into my search history, too. Can't a guy get some private time?'
Shō was barely home these past few weeks, and when he was, the two barely spoke. Shō was seemingly unwilling, and Kenji had no idea what to say. The air remained awkward, all up until today.
Rai Luna had contacted him day-after-day, frequently reminding him of the Orientation he had to attend as a new Choir member.
Entering the facility, he was ushered into a line with hundreds of people. He had to sign a form — to which he embarrassingly had to ask someone to help him — and got his blood taken just now.
'I'm sure they took a blood sample when I was taken in. So what the hell is all of this for?' Kenji mused with an indignant huff. 'Checking if I'm still human, I'm assuming'
Shaking the wry thought out of his head, he walked through sterile white halls and eventually entered into a spacious orientation hall.
The place was massive, and Kenji swore these places only existed in the academy mahnwa he's read — or more so looked at the pretty pictures for.
There were people settled throughout the hall. At least hundreds more, all chatting about.
Every single person here seemed like a person of interest. Veterans, graduates, top people in their fields...
And then there's him. An illiterate 19-year old whose only skill is that he could swing a bat pretty well.
Kenji gulped, settling in a secluded spot in the corner. Dark, away from everyone else, surely no one would see how much of an embarrassment he was.
He took in a few deep breaths, settling into his seat. He fixed his hoodie, then wrapped the jacket around himself. He fixed his hair, then his sneakers, before finally settling on his seat.
He wanted to at least look like he belonged, even if he felt like he didn't. As the crowd trickled in, one-by-one, Kenji couldn't help but stare. They all wore formal wear — suits, dress shirts, office-worker attire if Kenji had to be asked. While he was here sitting with his usual white hoodie and dark-blue jacket.
'Maybe this was a mistake...' Kenji thought, tucking his head away and trying to relax.
Eventually, the hall was full enough to the point where people had to sit next to him. Right to his left, a blonde guy settled into his seat. He wore a red jersey jacket and looked to the stage with his bright blue eyes.
Kenji internally snorted.
'They're letting in fairy tale princes now?' He wryly thought.
Maybe he was being mean to a guy minding his own business. Not like he was any better, he looked far more fit to be here than Kenji did.
Kenji turned back to the stage, settling onto his seat. He glanced around the room. The windows were placed up near the ceiling, and the air vents seemed to hover far above them. The door itself that led in and out of the orientation room was steel plated.
'Huh...' Kenji hummed to himself.
Eventually, once the hall was fully settled, the doors behind them closed with a quiet thud. The lights dimmed, and a spotlight shone towards the stage.
Step. Step. Step.
First, the echoes of his footsteps bounced against the cushioned walls. A pair of red eyes stared back at the crowd, but Kenji felt as if it was staring at him in particular. He gulped, he recognized those eyes.
Shō Hakurou, clad in a black suit, stepped in front of the podium. Tapping the microphone, static roaring at the act. Many covered their ears, including Kenji, but Shō didn't seem to mind. He cleared his throat, took a folder from his pockets and placed it on the podium.
"Testing. Testing."
The words echoed across the room, speakers mirroring his words in great volume.
"Alright, everything seems set." He straightened his tie, exhaled softly, and faced the crowd.
"Good day, everyone," he began, his tone flat and composed. "Congratulations on making it this far through the admission process. We at the Choir would like to humbly extend our hand through — blah, blah, blah, etcetera."
Shō stopped mid-sentence, staring down at the folder as if it personally offended him. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed it aside.
"Let's skip that," he said, leaning forward against the podium. "Honestly, I doubt any of you came here to hear some corporate PR speech about how proud we are of you, right?"
A few nervous laughs rippled through the hall. The tension shifted — lighter, but still sharp around the edges.
From his corner seat, Kenji couldn't tell if Shō was trying to make them comfortable… or just make them sweat.
Shō let out a smirk, with his eyes closed he continued on.
"I'm sure a lot of you came here with barely any knowledge of who we are, or what we do. You were given notices, letters of invitation, or personal recommendations by our agents. But all of it was always so vague, talking about a government sponsored organization, with a pay over a hundred grand."
He gestured to each and every one of them.
"You probably thought that it was a scam at first, after all, you wouldn't believe a letter by an Organization with no online presence, offering you a hefty sum for work they barely explained or touched on."
His eyes opened back up, and he looked at each of them.
"Hundreds of you. Scholars, soldiers, scientists — the best your respective fields have to offer. People who looked at that notice and thought, 'Sure, why not?'"
A low, humorless chuckle escaped him.
"You're brilliant, ambitious… and just unhinged enough to walk through those doors."
He raised a finger, pointing toward the crowd.
"That's exactly why you're here."
The smirk widened into something sharper — equal parts amusement and warning.
"You're all insane."
A pause.
"And that's exactly what we need."
The crowd fell still.
Whispers threaded through the silence — low, uncertain, rippling from one end of the hall to the other.
"You sure this isn't a scam?"
"Why did we even sign up?"
"They're still being vague about all this…"
The voices carried a nervous edge, a dawning awareness. One by one, the recruits began to exchange uneasy looks, as if some shared fog had finally begun to lift. They didn't know what they were getting into — they'd never known — yet here they were, sitting obediently in their seats.
Kenji glanced around. The confusion looked genuine. Dozens of faces, all snapping back into sanity at once.
And at the podium, Shō watched them with faint amusement. His lips curled into something between a smile and a smirk.
"I can tell you all have questions," he said, his voice flowing easily through the microphone, smooth and confident. "And that's good. You should."
He let the murmurs fade before continuing.
"All your questions will be answered soon enough… but before that—"
He leaned forward, resting his arms on the podium, his red eyes glinting in the low light.
"Let me ask you one of my own."
The crowd quieted.
Shō's tone softened, almost curious.
"Tell me…"
A pause.
"Do you believe in ghosts?"
The question hung in the air. Kenji felt his brows furrow, this was the exact same thing Rai said when he joined. Was this some-sort of tag-line for the Choir? They seem to like the term a lot. The crowd looked to one another, unsure of what to say.
Then a hand shot up, belonging to a girl with black hair and green eyes. Her round spectacles sat still on her face. Sho pointed to her, and the spotlight shone down. The girl stood up, looking up at Shō.
"Ghosts? What do you mean?" She asked, crossing her arms. "Like phantoms and creatures of the night? Silly urban stories?"
"Ghosts." The man replied, leaning in. "As in the urban mysteries the internet's obsessed with. The things your parents and cousins tell you about during night-time hours. Souls, spirits, things that go bump in the night."
"And not just ghosts. Aliens, too. Yokai, Djinn, Vampires, Gods and Demons — every myth and urban legend known to man." He leaned towards the crowd, his gaze shifting from the girl to the rest.
"Do you believe in ghosts?" He asked.
The girl, still standing, tilted her head. Her gaze wasn't one of argument, but curiosity. Her green eyes locked with Sho's red.
"Do you have proof?" The girl asked. "You're asking us as if we believe, when you've given us no reason to."
The man turned back to her, his own gaze locking with hers. "Well, I guess you're right."
He cleared his throat, stepping away from the podium. "I guess we'll just have to prove it to you all, one way or another."
"Ladies, Gentleman, doesn't it feel a little hot in here." Shō said, airing out his collar. He mockingly whined, his tone a parody of the whiny rich brats you'd find in movies. "Maybe we should open the windows, can you all take a look?"
The crowd did as he told, turning to the windows that were up above. Out of reach, but present still. Except...
'What!?' Kenji thought, looking up.
The windows were gone, not replaced, not bolted over, just gone. It was as if they never existed, the natural light coming from it replaced by a static void.
"Huh?" Shō intoned, clearly teasing. "Well, bummer. I forgot we've never had windows here. Shame, shame — but maybe we can open the door instead?"
The crowd's gaze turned toward the door —
Or at least, where it should have been.
Just like the windows, it was gone. The wall stretched on seamlessly, smooth and unbroken, as though no door had ever existed.
A ripple of unease spread through the hall. Murmurs rose, voices overlapping in a confused symphony of panic and disbelief. Some whispered that it was a trick — a projection, a hallucination — while others simply stared, wide-eyed, as the realization set in.
There were no exits.
Shō chuckled softly, the sound cutting through the noise.
"Relax, relax—" he said, his tone maddeningly casual. "You might be trapped here, but you're still safe, right?"
A few nervous glances darted his way. Then, the same girl from before spoke again, voice trembling.
"Are we? You've just sealed every exit. How exactly are we supposed to get out of here?"
Shō hummed as if pondering it. Then, with an almost playful shrug, he waved the question aside.
"Sure, we're trapped," he said lightly. "But there's no threat. No monsters hiding in the shadows beneath your seats waiting to tear you apart... right?"
The room fell silent.
His tone was teasing — too specific to be comforting. A man near the center hesitated, glancing down between his legs, as if to prove to himself that it was only a joke.
Then—
SPLAT!
A black, clawed hand burst up from the floor, slicing a canyon through his throat. Blood sprayed across the pristine white tiles. The man lurched to his feet, eyes bulging, clutching the wound as he gurgled on his own blood.
Screams erupted.
Another figure went down, her body torn in half before she even realized what had happened. The air filled with the metallic scent of blood and the wet sound of tearing flesh.
And through it all, Shō stood unmoving, red eyes gleaming beneath the spotlight.
Kenji's eyes snapped open—
Instinct took over.
He twisted and kicked upward just as the black claw slashed for his throat. Bone cracked under his heel, the creature's arm bending backward at an impossible angle. The impact sent it reeling, screeching, and Kenji didn't waste a second — he vaulted over the seat, landing behind the rows of chairs with a heavy thud.
'Shit. Shit. Shit.'
His heart hammered in his chest. Kenji's eyes darted across the chaos, searching— searching— for something, anything to trigger Corswain's gift.
But…
'Nothing!?'
A cold wave of panic struck him. The system that always hummed at the edge of his mind was silent — like a phone with its line cut.
He grit his teeth, shoving the fear down.
'Fine. If it won't work, then I'll just use what I have.'
His gaze landed on the nearest row of seats. He bolted toward them, kicking one of the metal legs with all the force he could muster. The joint snapped with a metallic crunch, the leg tearing free.
It wasn't a baseball bat. It was uneven, bent, and jagged on one end — but it was something.
Kenji spun the improvised weapon once in his hand, the weight unfamiliar, but comforting in its own way.
Most of the crowd had already broken into chaos — a storm of panicked screams and desperate bodies clawing toward the corners of the room. But with no exits left to run to, the panic turned to slaughter. They were picked off one by one.
From beneath the rows of seats, one of the things slithered out — its shadow stretching long across the floor before its form followed. A black, dripping mass, its tar-like flesh bubbling and writhing as if alive on its own. The creature groaned — a wet, bubbling sound — and another soon followed, and another.
The floor seemed to pulse as more of the wretches crawled out from below. Their shapes twisted and uneven, faces half-melted, eyes leaking black blood that dripped down their bodies and pooled around their feet.
'God. What the fuck are these things?' Kenji thought, shaking his head.
If he could see them, then he could hit them. That was enough. Even without Corswain's power, the rules were the same.
But not everyone was frozen in fear.
The blonde man who'd sat beside him — the one in the red jacket — sprang to his feet. The creature Kenji had kicked was already reforming, its arm snapping back into shape with a sickening crack. It turned its hollow face toward the blonde.
He was sweating, trembling — but his eyes hardened.
"H-Hey, let's not get hasty—"
The creature lunged.
Its claws sliced through the air, each swing missing him by inches as the man ducked and stumbled back.
"Hey! I know I'm good-looking — but keep your hands off me!" he barked, half terrified, half joking, as he dodged another swipe.
Then, with a burst of desperate instinct, he rolled forward between the creature's legs. The black ichor splashed across his jacket and hair as he came up behind it.
"Aw, man…" he grimaced, staring down at the tar staining his sleeves. "I just washed this."
He shook his head, forcing his focus back on the monster. With a sharp pivot, he twisted his heel — and then came the crack.
The creature's skull caved beneath his roundhouse, its head slamming against the steel frame of a chair. Bone and black sludge burst outward, the writhing mass twitching before it slumped to the ground.
The blonde didn't waste a second. He backed up, slipping between overturned seats until he reached the same corner Kenji had taken refuge in. Despite the chaos — the screams, the blood — he gave a quick, almost sheepish wave.
"Hey, nice to meet you! My name's Aiden. I'm your seatmate. Just thought I'd introduce myself before we both die."
Kenji blinked, gripping his makeshift weapon tighter. Is this really the right time?
Aiden pointed at the metal leg in Kenji's hand. "Cool weapon. Can I have one?"
"Get your own." Kenji snapped, though he sighed right after. He grabbed a nearby chair, yanked one of its legs loose, and shoved it toward Aiden.
"Here. Try not to die with it."
Aiden grinned, taking it like a gift. "No promises."
Aiden wasn't the only one still standing.
The green-eyed girl — the same one who'd questioned Shō — stumbled back as a black tendril lashed toward her. It cut the air with a snap, missing her by inches. She grit her teeth, scanning frantically for anything she could use.
Another tendril whipped forward. She ducked, grabbed the thick hardcover she'd been clutching — and instead of running away, she charged in.
With a shout, she slammed the book straight into the creature's face, aiming for the pale, pulsing thing that resembled an eye.
Pop.
The thing shrieked — a high, gurgling wail that rattled the air. Black ooze sprayed across the seats as it stumbled backward, writhing.
Taking her chance, the girl darted through the rows, vaulting over a broken chair and sliding into the same corner where Kenji and Aiden had regrouped.
She dropped beside them, gasping, her glasses slightly crooked and blood spattered across her sleeve.
"Okay," she breathed, voice sharp between gulps of air. "Someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?"
Aiden and Kenji exchanged a glance. The blonde gave a helpless shrug.
"I… kinda thought I'd ask you," Aiden said with a sheepish grin.
The girl blinked, unimpressed. "The fact that you're smiling right now tells me exactly how unhinged everyone here is."
She turned her attention toward the stage, eyes narrowing at the lone man on stage still standing calmly amidst the carnage.
"Whatever the case," she said, voice steady despite the chaos, "these things aren't acting on instinct. Notice how none of them have gone for him? They're being controlled — he's likely the one pulling the strings."
A low growl echoed through the hall, one of the creatures dragging itself across shattered chairs. The girl barely flinched.
"For a so-called orientation, this is absurdly savage," she muttered. "How do they expect anyone to survive this without weapons?"
Kenji snorted, tightening his grip on the chair leg. "Guess that's part of the test."
"Then they need to update their methods," she shot back, glaring as another tendril whipped past them. "Because this is insane."
"Don't act like we have the answers," Aiden said, backing up a step with a strained grin. "We're as clueless as you."
The girl glanced at him, then turned her attention to Kenji. Her gaze sharpened when she noticed the family resemblance.
"Are you related to the man on stage?" she asked.
Kenji's chest tightened. 'She figured that out?' he thought.
"Yeah," he said. "He's my brother."
"And you don't know anything?" she pressed.
"No," Kenji replied. "Older brothers are annoyingly private. I'm as in the dark as you."
He braced himself for ridicule or pity. Instead she gave a small, knowing nod.
"Fair," she said, shaking her head once. "No hard feelings. But if we want to get out of here, we don't wait for answers — we take him out."
Kenji swallowed hard. "Hey, maybe we can... I don't know, restrain him instead?"
The girl turned toward him, deadpan. "And pray tell me how you're planning to do that?"
Kenji opened his mouth—then promptly shut it. His eyes darted around for anything remotely useful.
"My jacket's pretty sturdy," he offered weakly. "We can use that…?"
"Your jacket?" she repeated flatly.
"Yeah… my jacket."
She stared at him for a long, unimpressed second — until a scream tore through the air. They both turned just in time to see a woman lifted off the ground by one of the creatures. The thing twisted once, and the sound that followed was a wet, splintering crack. Blood splattered across the floor tiles in a crimson arc.
The girl's expression hardened into something cold and resolute.
"No," she said quietly. "After seeing that? I'm not keeping your brother alive."
She turned toward the stage.
Kenji opened his mouth to argue—but his voice died in his throat. The screams. The carnage. The smell of blood. This couldn't be Shō. His brother would never—
'This isn't Shō.' The thought clung to him, desperate and thin. 'No way Shō would do this. I'll snap him out of it.'
He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the metal bar.
The girl glanced at him. "Get me one of those."
Kenji blinked. "…Seriously?"
She gestured to the nearest chair. "Now."
He sighed, grabbed it, and with one sharp pull snapped off a leg before handing it over.
'What am I to these people,' he thought bitterly, 'a damn blacksmith?'
The girl tested the weight of the chair leg, giving it a few sharp swings before settling into a stance. Her posture was practiced —controlled — something Kenji could only assume came from training.
"Octavia," she said at last, eyes still on the stage. "That's my name."
Aiden blinked, then grinned despite the chaos. "Aiden."
Feeling the unspoken pressure from the two, Kenji exhaled. "Kenji."
Introductions done, Octavia adjusted her grip, the metal leg now held like a fencing blade — elegant, precise.
Aiden mimicked a stance straight out of a fantasy show, blade angled before him, shoulders squared.
Kenji simply hefted his own weapon over his shoulder, a high school delinquent look — fitting for someone who used a baseball bat.
The three stood side by side, an unspoken pact forming between them.
Their gazes turned to the stage.
Shō hadn't moved.
He stood beneath the flickering lights with his hands tucked into his pockets, watching the slaughter with the indifference of someone observing the weather. The monsters didn't so much as glance in his direction — they tore through the crowd, their screams and gurgles echoing like a twisted symphony, yet none dared touch him.
He finally met Kenji's eyes.
And in that instant, Kenji's breath caught in his throat.
Those weren't his brother's eyes.