A World of Unia
In this world, every human is born with a supernatural ability known as Unia. It isn't just a power—it's something beyond human comprehension. A Unia might allow one to summon creatures, move at impossible speeds, or even transform into something non-human.
At the age of three—when a child first develops consciousness—their Unia activates, forever shaping their future.
To maintain order, the government developed a system installed in hospitals and mobile devices, capable of measuring and ranking each individual's power. These rankings range from Level 1 to Level 11. Level 11 is a legendary tier—so rare that no human has officially reached it. Those who do possess an Unia at that level are often considered myths.
But in the city of Bejink, a metropolis much like present-day New York, one young man defied all logic.
Because he had no Unia at all.
Shinji: The One Without a Gift
Shinji, a 19-year-old law student, had long believed he was different—not in a special way, but in an unfortunate one. Brown-haired and grey-eyed, he had resigned himself to being powerless. He had never felt the rush of activating a Unia.
Instead, he found comfort in the simple things: his routine, his job, and the people around him.
He worked part-time as a cashier at a local supermarket, spending his shifts alongside Anna Wade—his best friend and longtime crush.
Anna, with her curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and thin frame, was addicted to ice cream. She was a 24 years old high school dropout, yet she carried an effortless charm. Every night after work, the two of them went to a nearby kids' park at midnight, sitting on the seesaw, laughing about their weirdest customers and comparing tips.
It was their routine. Their escape. Their little piece of happiness in a city plagued by death.
Because for the past seven years, Bejink had been haunted by a series of unexplained murders—victims found in random places, killed by their own Unia in a way that defied logic. No one knew why. No one knew how.
And no one knew who was behind it.
A Day Like Any Other
One evening, as Shinji and Anna sat at the park, his phone buzzed.
Ford.
"Yo, Shinji," Ford's voice came through the speaker. "I'll swing by your place in the morning. We're heading to campus together."
Ford had always been a strange one. Grey-haired, grey-eyed, and dressed in nothing but shades of grey, Shinji often teased him about being a "walking grayscale filter."
"Got it," Shinji replied before hanging up.
That night felt normal. But it was the last normal night Shinji would ever have.
A Crime That Shouldn't Be Possible
Morning came. Ford was waiting outside Shinji's apartment, leaning casually against the wall.
They walked together through the streets of Bejink, a city of towering skyscrapers, glowing billboards, and never-ending noise. Neon lights reflected off rain-slicked pavement, creating a distorted, dreamlike version of reality.
Their destination: Bejink Law University.
Their first lecture of the day? Criminal Charges and Legal Proceedings.
The professor, an older man with a sharp suit and sharper eyes, stood at the front of the lecture hall.
"A criminal charge," he began, "is a formal accusation made by a governmental authority, such as a public prosecutor or the police, alleging that an individual has committed a crime. This charge is documented in a legal record, which can take multiple forms, including an indictment, a complaint, or an information."
The room was filled with students of various backgrounds, some taking notes, others barely paying attention. The air smelled faintly of coffee and old books.
During the break, Ford and Shinji joked around.
"What crime would you be guilty of if we were criminals?" Shinji asked.
Ford smirked. "Cheating at sports."
An hour later, they were playing tennis on the university courts. Shinji was competitive, but Ford was better. Every time Shinji gained an advantage, he slipped on a mysteriously wet patch of ground.
Ford never even touched him.
And yet… Shinji lost.
He just didn't realize why.
A Week Later
The streets of Bejink were always busy, but today, something felt different.
As Shinji walked to campus, heavy metal music blaring through his headphones, he noticed a crowd gathered around a telephone booth.
People were shouting. Police officers were struggling to keep them back.
Shinji wasn't interested. Until he saw who was inside.
His body froze. His stomach twisted.
Inside the booth, submerged in water, was Ford.
Dead.
Shinji's breath hitched. Ford's Unia was water manipulation.
Someone had drowned him in his own power.
The Death Fairy
Shinji ran into an alley and threw up.
As he leaned against the wall, gasping for breath, he overheard a conversation.
Two homeless men were muttering to each other.
"You hear about the killer?" one whispered. "They say he has a black scythe."
"But he doesn't use it to kill," the other man added. "The victims just… die."
"They call him… the Death Fairy."
Shinji had never heard that name before.
But somehow, it felt familiar.
The Nightmare Becomes Real
That night, Shinji didn't head straight home. He wandered the dim streets of Bejink, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts.
Ford was dead. Drowned by his own Unia.
The city buzzed with neon lights and chatter, but everything felt distant, like a faded memory.
Why did this happen? Who was the killer?
His head throbbed.
The whistling sound that had been haunting him for weeks grew louder, ringing in his ears.
Then, suddenly—
Blackness.
When his vision returned, he was no longer in the streets.
He was standing in a narrow, filthy alley under a dark, cloudy sky. The smell of rotting garbage filled the air. A pale streetlamp flickered in the distance.
His breath hitched. He wasn't alone.
Right in front of him, a girl was struggling against his grip—her blonde curls matted with dirt, her blue eyes wide with terror.
Anna.
His fingers were wrapped tightly around her throat.
His right hand was squeezing, forcing the air from her lungs.
His left hand was gripping something long and heavy.
He slowly looked down.
A black scythe.
The curved blade gleamed under the dim light, as if mocking him.
What…? What is this?!
Anna's lips trembled. Her eyes pleaded for mercy.
"You're not real," she whimpered. "You're not real!"
Shinji's breathing grew ragged. His heart pounded against his ribs.
His fingers twitched—just enough for her to break free.
With a desperate push, Anna stumbled backward, gasping for air, her hands clutching her throat.
Then, with pure fear in her eyes, she turned and ran.
Her frantic footsteps echoed through the alley.
Shinji didn't chase her.
He couldn't move.
He stood there, frozen, the scythe still heavy in his grip.
Then—just as suddenly as it came—the blackness swallowed him again.
Dawn
When his mind cleared, he wasn't in the streets.
He wasn't in the alley.
He was in his room.
The faint glow of early morning light filtered through the half-open blinds, casting soft lines across the floor. The cool air of dawn brushed against his sweat-drenched skin.
His breath was uneven.
He sat up abruptly, his heart hammering against his ribs.
His bed was a mess. His sheets were tangled around him like restraints. His pillow was damp with sweat.
Shinji ran a shaky hand through his hair, then froze.
His fingers trembled as he slowly raised them to his eyes.
His hands were clean. No blood. No bruises.
No scythe.
A dream. Just a dream.
But…
His pulse didn't slow down.
He looked around his room. The posters on the wall, the books stacked on his desk, the half-empty water bottle beside his bed.
Everything was normal. Perfectly normal.
So why did it still feel so wrong?
His gaze drifted toward the window.
Beyond the glass, the city of Bejink was waking up. Cars hummed in the distance. A few early commuters strolled down the sidewalks below, wrapped in scarves against the morning chill.
Shinji swallowed hard.
Slowly, hesitantly, he reached for his phone on the nightstand.
The screen lit up with a soft glow.
He opened the camera app.
His fingers hovered over the screen.
With a deep breath, he switched to selfie mode—
And nearly dropped the phone.
The reflection staring back at him wasn't him.
The man on the screen had dark, ink-like skin, a wild grin, and untamed grey hair covering his left eye. His right eye gleamed with an unnatural emerald glow—like a predator hunting in the dark.
And in his left hand…
The black scythe was still there.
Shinji's stomach twisted.
He snapped the picture.
Then, his legs finally gave out.
He fell to his knees, gripping his head.
The whistling inside his mind was deafening.
The New Detective
The next morning, the Bejink Police Department was buzzing with tension.
A girl sat at an interrogation desk, gripping a cup of untouched coffee between trembling hands.
Anna Wade.
Her normally bright and confident demeanor was gone, replaced by a pale, haunted expression.
Two officers stood beside her, exchanging uneasy glances.
"Miss Wade," one of them said gently, "you said you were attacked?"
Anna's lips parted, but no words came out.
She hesitated.
In her mind, she could still see Shinji's face—his real face—flickering between that monstrous version of himself.
She should say his name. She should.
But…
Her heart clenched.
"He didn't look human," she whispered instead. "He had… this black scythe. But I don't remember how I got there."
One of the officers sighed. "We're investigating a series of strange cases, but this description… it matches nothing we've ever seen before."
The door creaked open.
A man stepped inside.
His dark blue blazer was perfectly pressed. His black dress shirt had a single top button undone, giving him an air of controlled confidence. His matching dark pants were spotless.
His black-blue hair was neatly combed, and his piercing dark blue eyes scanned the room like a hawk analyzing its prey.
One of the officers stiffened.
"This is Tristan," he announced. "The new detective."
"Best in the country," the other officer added. "Solved countless cases before even graduating high school."
Tristan didn't acknowledge the praise.
Instead, he moved toward the window, placing his hands casually in his pockets.
He gazed out at the towering skyline of Bejink, his expression unreadable.
Then, with a quiet but deliberate voice, he spoke.
"A murderer with a black scythe, huh?"
He chuckled under his breath, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Interesting."
Then, turning slightly, his dark blue eyes gleamed with something unreadable.
"A serial killer."
He exhaled slowly, as if savoring the challenge ahead.
"Alright. I'll play your game, mystery man."
His fingers tapped against the windowpane.
"You want to kill without leaving a trace?"
His smirk widened.
"Then I'll find you—and solve your mystery."
His eyes glinted with absolute certainty.
"Because solving mysteries is my justice."