The elevator hummed softly as it ascended.
Ren stood silently inside, hands in his pockets, staring at the mirrored panel on the door. His reflection looked back with lifeless crimson eyes and a blank expression that didn't quite fit a teenage boy.
Beside him, Miyuki stood still, her posture relaxed, eyes forward. She hadn't said a word since they stepped into the building.
From the outside, she seemed like an ordinary woman. Maybe even forgettable.
Yet, to Ren, there was something wrong.
"From the outside she seems like an ordinary woman… yet so quiet. So calm. But why would someone like her… want to take care of someone like me?"
Before the thought could finish, the elevator gave a soft ding.
Ding—
Floor 3.
The doors slid open. The hallway was clean, lit with warm yellow lights, and lined with identical brown doors on each side.
Miyuki stepped out first. Ren followed, his steps slow but steady.
They walked a few paces until she stopped in front of Apartment No. 304. The silver numbers glinted under the ceiling light. She pulled a key from her pocket, unlocked the door without looking back, and pushed it open.
The inside was quiet.
Still.
She stepped aside slightly and nodded at him to go in first.
Ren paused at the entrance, glancing around carefully like a stray animal unsure if the house had traps.
No hidden cameras.
No guards waiting inside.
No locked rooms.
Just… an apartment.
The apartment was small but clean. The living room opened directly from the entrance, with a low black couch, a small round table, and a wall-mounted TV. The walls were plain white, with only one framed painting—an old mountain shrine—hanging near the balcony.
The air smelled like fresh paper and barely-used space.
Miyuki took off her coat and hung it neatly near the door.
"Your room's down the hall. First door on the right," she said plainly, then walked toward the kitchen without waiting for a response.
Ren followed her direction and headed to the room.
The hallway was narrow, clean, and quiet. No photos. No decorations. Just blank walls.
He opened the door slowly and stepped inside.
His new room wasn't huge, but it was bigger than any space he'd had before.
A single bed in the corner, a wooden desk with a reading lamp, a small bookshelf, and a window with blinds half-drawn. A wardrobe stood against the far wall. A cardboard box sat at the edge of the bed, sealed shut.
Ren walked over, peeled it open.
Inside were a few books, a pair of wireless headphones, a set of dark clothes neatly folded… and at the bottom, a worn-out photo frame.
He picked it up.
It was a picture of a little girl with black hair standing beside a woman—maybe Miyuki. They were in front of an old countryside house, smiling gently. There were no notes on the back.
Ren stared at it for a long moment.
Then slowly placed it back inside the box.
"This place isn't normal… and neither is she," he muttered under his breath, pulling the curtains slightly to peek outside the window.
The view overlooked the city—ordinary lights, ordinary people.
And yet, for the first time in years, he wasn't behind bars.
He sat on the bed, the mattress sinking softly beneath him.
No chains.
No walls.
No cuffs around his wrists.
And yet… something about this freedom felt heavier than steel.
[The Next Day – Katsuragi Public High School]
The next morning, the sky was cloudy, casting a dull grey light over the streets as Miyuki's car pulled up in front of Katsuragi Public High School—a quiet, mid-sized school nestled between office buildings and residential blocks.
Ren stepped out of the car behind her, hands in his pockets, wearing the school's black blazer and tie. He walked with no emotion on his face, as if this was just another formality in a life full of cages.
Miyuki led the way up the stairs and through the front entrance, greeting the front desk staff with a brief nod. The receptionist gave a quick look at Ren but said nothing—just dialed a number and informed the principal of their arrival.
Within minutes, they were ushered into the principal's office.
The man behind the desk was in his fifties, round glasses perched on his nose, thinning gray hair slicked back. He stood up as they entered.
"Ah, Ms. Kaminari. Thank you for coming."
"Of course," Miyuki replied calmly.
The principal's eyes briefly shifted to Ren, who simply stood still, eyes drifting across the room—never settling, never focusing. His expression didn't change.
"And this must be… Kagatsuchi-kun," the principal said, voice polite but measured.
"Yes," Miyuki answered. "I've completed the guardian paperwork. You should have everything on file."
The principal sat down and shuffled through the documents. There was a brief moment of silence as he reviewed them, the air heavy with unspoken questions.
Then, carefully:
"I understand that… Kagatsuchi-kun has been absent from formal education for quite some time."
Miyuki nodded.
"He's capable of catching up. He's sharper than most people give him credit for."
The principal gave a tight smile.
"Of course. We have support systems for students returning from long gaps. We'll keep his integration quiet. No announcements, no introductions. He'll be treated like any other student."
Miyuki said nothing.
The principal turned to Ren at last, speaking directly for the first time.
"Kagatsuchi-kun, I hope you'll do your best to adjust here. We expect respect, effort, and discipline. If you need anything, feel free to ask your homeroom teacher."
Ren gave a slight nod.
"I understand."
His voice was low but clear. Polite. Controlled.
The principal looked slightly surprised, then adjusted his glasses.
"Well then. Welcome to Katsuragi High."
Miyuki stood. Ren followed.
The meeting was over.
As they walked down the hall, the principal watched them go for a moment longer than necessary.
He said nothing.
But he remembered the name Kagatsuchi Ren.
He remembered the file. The sealed record.
Even if the world had forgotten what happened six years ago… he hadn't.
[That Evening – At Dinner]
The apartment was dimly lit, the only sound being the low hum of the kitchen fan.
Ren sat at the small dining table, eyes half-lidded as he stared at the meal in front of him—steamed rice, miso soup, and grilled fish, all neatly arranged. He picked at the food slowly, not out of distrust, but unfamiliarity. It had been a long time since he had a meal that wasn't served on a metal tray.
Across from him, Miyuki ate in silence. Her movements were practiced, precise, and quiet. She didn't force conversation or ask about his day.
It was Ren who broke the silence first.
"...The System."
Miyuki looked up slightly.
"What about it?"
Ren glanced at her, then at his chopsticks.
"I've never really understood how it works. I never awakened, so they never bothered explaining it to me. All I know is... when people turn fourteen, they get something… and it changes their life."
Miyuki placed her chopsticks down, her expression calm as always.
"That's more or less correct," she said. "Most people awaken sometime after their fourteenth birthday. When it happens, a voice speaks to them—directly into their mind. That's the System."
Ren raised an eyebrow.
"And what does it want?"
"It gives you tasks," she replied, resting her arms on the table. "Sometimes small ones. Sometimes dangerous ones. Completing those tasks gives you rewards—skills, stats, power. The more you complete, the more you evolve. But... you don't have to do them if you don't want to."
"You can ignore it?"
"Yes. Most people do," she said, sipping from her tea. "Tasks can be extremely difficult. Not everyone wants to risk their life. Most people awaken, maybe get one or two minor abilities, and go on living normally."
Ren thought about that for a moment.
"So the powerful ones... the ones you hear about in the news…"
"Those are the ones who chase missions. People who actively take jobs from stations to hunt monsters and level up through combat."
"Monsters?"
Miyuki nodded.
"They began appearing soon after the System awakened. No one knows where they come from—some say alternate dimensions, some say they're born from corrupted tasks. But they appear all over the world. Because of that, every region has been split into three categories."
She raised three fingers.
"Green Zone: safe. No monster sightings for at least a year. Cities, towns, farmland.
Blue Zone: unstable. Monsters appear occasionally.
Red Zone: active. High monster activity. Death is common."
"And these stations…?" Ren asked.
"Each zone has a Station Headquarters," she continued. "That's where hunters gather, take jobs, sell monster parts, and receive rewards from the System. Some use it to survive. Others use it to get rich. And then… there are those who take it too far."
Ren narrowed his eyes.
"Too far?"
Miyuki looked at him for a long moment, then turned back to her food.
"You'll understand eventually."
Silence returned.
Ren didn't push. Instead, he quietly resumed eating. The food tasted better than he expected. The warmth in his stomach was unfamiliar.
The silence lingered, but it no longer felt heavy. Just…
present.
Ren quietly placed his empty bowl in the sink, glanced at Miyuki—who remained at the table with a cup of tea in hand—and gave a short nod.
"Thanks for the food."
She simply replied with a low, "Mm."
Ren headed down the hallway to his room, the lights dimming as he passed under them. When he entered, the room felt still, almost too quiet, as if the city outside had vanished completely.
He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on the mattress, eyes fixed on the desk—but his mind wandered elsewhere.
"System, huh?" he murmured.
A faint smirk played on his lips.
"Now you've got my attention."
With that, he leaned back, finally lying down. His eyes drifted shut, slowly and silently.
The wind howled.
Ren stood alone in a warped forest, where the trees bent like dying hands and the sky was swallowed by black clouds. Only the faint glow of the full moon pierced through the canopy, casting cold silver across the rotting leaves.
He didn't move. Didn't speak.
Didn't know how he got here.
"…A dream?"
He pushed forward, parting the hanging branches as he stepped carefully over gnarled roots. The deeper he went, the colder it grew. The trees twisted in unnatural ways—like they'd been burned from the inside out.
And then he saw it.
In the center of a clearing, under the pale moonlight… stood another him.
Same black hair.
Same red eyes.
But something was off.
He looked hollow. Still.
Empty.
The other Ren stared ahead—at something massive just beyond the trees.
From the shadows, it emerged.
A towering devil, skin the color of dried blood. Horns curled back like jagged blades. Its body was armored in cracked, bone-like plating. Its face—almost human—stretched into a grin far too wide, and its eyes were bottomless pits of black.
It loomed over the other Ren.
And that Ren… just stared back. No fear. No confusion. No soul.
Silent. Captivated.
"What the hell…?" Ren whispered, crouching in the brush.
"Did I eat something weird at dinner or…?"
He ducked lower, heart pounding.
The devil moved—slowly, deliberately—raising one massive hand and placing it gently on the other Ren's shoulder.
"What's it doing…?"
Then its mouth began to open.
And kept opening.
Wider.
Wider.
Until its face split into a cavern of jagged teeth and swirling red mist—large enough to devour him whole.
It leaned forward, mouth descending toward the other Ren's head.
Ren's body tensed.
Snap.
His foot cracked a branch beneath the leaves.
The sound shattered the silence like a gunshot.
The devil froze.
Then, it turned.
Its black eyes locked onto him.
And that horrible grin grew wider…
Too wide.
Human… but wrong.
"You're next."
Ren jolted upright in bed.
His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts.
Sweat clung to his skin.
His eyes scanned the room—walls, desk, curtains, night air.
He was back.
The apartment was still.
But his heart thundered in his chest, wild and relentless.
"…What the hell was that?"
He wiped his face, trying to steady his breath.
But no matter how hard he tried,
he couldn't forget the feeling of that hand on his shoulder.