The room was cold.
Not the kind of cold that came from air or metal, but the kind that crept into the chest and refused to leave. Dim white lights hummed overhead, reflecting off polished floors and sterile walls marked with faint symbols Shin didn't recognize but instinctively disliked.
Hinata sat curled up against him, small hands gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping her anchored to the world.
Tears slid down her cheeks, silent but constant.
"Hina," Shin whispered, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He pressed her head against his chest, one hand gently covering the back of her head. "Don't worry. We'll be okay."
She shook slightly.
"Shin-nii…" she said in a broken voice. "I'm scared…"
"I know," he said softly. "But Mom and Dad will come. They always do."
He didn't know when.
He didn't know how.
But he believed it with everything he had.
Footsteps echoed beyond the door.
Measured. Unhurried.
A moment later, the door slid open.
A woman stepped inside.
She was tall, elegant, her ash-pink hair tied loosely behind her head, strands framing a face that looked carved rather than born. Her eyes were sharp, observant—eyes that didn't miss details and didn't care about comfort.
Selene Ashcroft.
She looked at the room, then at the children, as if inspecting a finished experiment.
"Oh my," she said lightly. "You're quite confident for your age."
Shin shifted instantly, turning his body to shield Hinata. He lifted hands and gently covered her ears.
Then he looked up at Selene.
"Oh?" he said, tilting his head. "So you're that f*cking b*tch."
Selene's brow twitched—just barely.
Shin continued, unfazed.
"What was your name again? Selene Ashcut? Ascroft? Whatever. Hard to remember trash."
Selene smiled.
It wasn't warm.
"Boy," she said calmly, "you should be very careful with your mouth. You know what kind of situation you're in, don't you?"
She took a step closer.
"I could kill you."
Shin laughed. amused.
"You?" he said. "Touch me?"
He leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp now, the playful tone gone.
"Imagine if I tell them you hurt me," he continued. "Do you know what happens next? They won't ask questions. They'll erase you. Your little clan."
Selene stopped walking.
Shin smiled wider.
"So here's a better idea," he said. "Treat me nicely. Maybe I tell my parents to let you go. Who knows? I might even keep you."
Selene stared at him.
"…Keep me?"
"As a toy," Shin said casually. "Or a pawn. Depends on your usefulness."
For the first time, Selene's smile cracked.
"I can't believe you're only fifteen," she said slowly. "And you really think anyone can control me?"
Shin met her gaze without blinking.
"Not anyone," he said. "Me."
The silence stretched.
"I'll need your help in the future," Shin continued, tone almost conversational. "And honestly? I'm really interested in breaking a misandrist like you."
Selene's eyes darkened.
"Imagine it," Shin went on, voice sharp with cruel curiosity. "A woman who hates men… working under me. Doing what I say. When I say. I could use you anytime I want."
He shrugged slightly.
"What do you think?"
Selene exhaled slowly.
"You talk like someone who knows far too much," she said.
"Oh, I do," Shin replied. "Your organization wasn't always this strong. Your father spent his whole life chasing women instead of building anything real. After he died, you took over."
Selene's fingers curled.
"You worked hard," Shin continued. "Really hard. Most of the old Pale Orchard members? Dead. Gone. Left behind. You rebuilt everything from scraps."
He tilted his head.
"And now you want my mother. Her mind. Her skills. So you can stabilize your little artifact and expand your influence."
Selene said nothing.
Shin smiled again—this time, colder.
"I like hardworking women," he said. "That's why I'm giving you a chance."
He tightened his arms around Hinata slightly.
"But don't forget," he added quietly, "you're not the one in control here."
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Only the hum of the lights filled the room.
Selene finally stepped back.
Her smile returned—but it didn't reach her eyes.
"…You're fascinating," she said. "Much more than I expected."
Shin didn't answer.
He just stared at her—steady, unafraid, waiting.
The modest house beside Toyo Kindergarten looked the same as always—quiet, forgettable, harmless.
From the outside.
The door opened.
Mitsuki stepped out first, already tying her hair back, expression calm but eyes sharp with anticipation. Yuya followed, stretching his neck once like someone warming up before a fight.
"So," Mitsuki asked casually as she slipped on her jacket, "where to?"
Yuya grinned, wide and feral.
"Wherever those bastards are," he said.
That was all that needed to be said.
They headed straight for the garage. The school bus sat there, yellow paint dull under the lights, looking almost ridiculous given what it was about to be used for.
They climbed in.
The engine rumbled to life, and the bus rolled out onto the road like any other late-night drive.
A few minutes later, Yuya tapped a control on the dashboard.
"Auto mode," he said.
The steering wheel adjusted on its own. The bus stayed perfectly aligned in its lane.
Yuya stood up and walked toward the back.
Mitsuki was already there, leaning against a seat, arms crossed, watching him with a hungry smile.
"…You look excited," she said.
Yuya leaned in, hands braced beside her.
"It is exciting," he replied. "Been a while since someone gave me a proper reason."
She laughed low against his mouth, fingers curling into his collar as she tugged him closer.
A soft click — and the interior lights died.
Only faint moonlight slipped through the windows, painting pale silver streaks across their skin.
The bus rolled on, engine humming steady and indifferent.
Inside, the silence felt thick and alive with small, private sounds — soft breaths, shifting fabric, the slow creak of the worn seat beneath them.
Outside, the whole vehicle swayed noticeably with each thrust of movement — suspension groaning in complaint, windows rattling faintly in their frames.
At Lin Xuan's residence, the atmosphere was the opposite.
Calm.
Controlled.
Alicia sat quietly on Lin Xuan's left, hands folded in her lap, eyes occasionally flicking toward him. On his right, Vaibhav sat restlessly, tension written clearly across his face.
He finally couldn't hold it in anymore.
"Master," Vaibhav asked, voice tight, "why are you so confident?"
Lin Xuan didn't look at him immediately.
"Because," he said evenly, "I know what those people can do."
Anika, lounging comfortably across Lin Xuan's lap, smirked.
"Yeah," she added lazily. "They look old. Weak. Normal."
She tilted her head slightly.
"But they're monsters."
Vaibhav's face heated up as he realized where Anika was sitting.
"B–Big Sister," he muttered, looking away, "at least… we're still here."
Anika ignored him completely.
"Shin's dad," she continued, voice turning casual in the most unsettling way, "is called Night Howl. An Assassin."
Alicia listened quietly, eyes wide.
"He killed hundreds," Anika went on. "In fights. The enemy never even realizes he's been stabbed until they're already dying."
She smiled faintly.
"And his sword—Honekiri Ryujin. A blade meant for bones. If he draws it properly, someone's head hits the ground before their body understands what happened."
Vaibhav swallowed.
"And Shin's mom," Anika continued, crossing her legs, "Akari Nohara. Formerly Shigekoku Akari. Flame Emperor's daughter."
Lin Xuan remained silent, letting her speak.
"She doesn't fight like normal people," Anika said. "She uses syringes. Throws them faster than bullets. Each one filled with poisons, mutagens, chemicals nobody else even dares to synthesize."
Alicia shivered slightly.
"And Yuya?" Anika added. "That kindergarten principal?"
She laughed.
"That guy is a beast. Literally fights like one. Claws. Teeth. Raw strength. He can tear a human apart with his bare hands."
Vaibhav's breathing had gone shallow.
"And Mitsuki," Anika finished, lips curling into something sharp and dangerous, "she's insane. Loves killing and S*x. And doesn't care who's watching."
She leaned back comfortably.
"So yeah," Anika concluded. "I'm not worried."
Lin Xuan finally spoke again.
"They chose the wrong family," he said calmly.
The road leading to Pale Orchard was silent.
Too silent.
A black car slowed to a stop just beyond the tree line, its headlights cutting across the outer fence of the compound. A second later, the school bus rolled in behind it, brakes hissing softly.
The doors opened.
Akari stepped out first.
She was already in combat gear—tight, reinforced suit hugging her frame, syringes secured along her thighs and waist, eyes cold and focused. The fabric clung to her like a second skin, built for speed and precision rather than modesty.
Hiroshi followed.
He wore dark assassin clothing, fitted and flexible, designed for movement. The cracked white mask covered his face, empty and emotionless. Knives were hidden along his arms and legs. The black katana rested across his back.
From the bus, Yuya jumped down next.
He was dressed almost the same as Hiroshi—dark, close-fitting combat clothes, sleeves rolled up, gloves tight, posture loose but predatory.
Then—
Mitsuki stepped out.
Her outfit was unmistakably different — a jet-black tactical bodysuit, impossibly tight, the high-end combat weave clinging like liquid shadow. Every curve was ruthlessly outlined, the material catching faint moonlight with a subtle sheen. Thigh holsters crossed her legs in sharp straps, weapons snug against smooth skin.
Her hair was slightly messy.
Very messy.
Akari stared at her for half a second.
"…You b*tch," Akari said flatly. "You can't be serious. You were really having s*x at this time?"
Mitsuki stretched lazily, completely unapologetic, suit pulling taut across her chest and hips.
"Hey!! It's not my fault," she shot back. "We already planned it. It was you guys who called."
Yuya smirked. "Don't blame me. You started it."
Mitsuki elbowed him. "Shut up."
Akari rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever. Let's go."
They moved.
The guards at the Pale Orchard gate noticed them immediately.
"Hey—! Stop right there!" one of them shouted, raising his weapon.
Too late.
A knife flashed.
The guard's head snapped sideways as the blade buried itself cleanly into his skull. He dropped without a sound.
The second guard barely had time to widen his eyes before Yuya stepped in and drove a punch straight into his face.
Crack.
Bone shattered.
The man collapsed like a sack of meat.
Alarms screamed.
Red lights flared across the compound.
Footsteps thundered from every corridor.
Doors burst open.
Guards poured into the courtyard, weapons raised, formations forming instinctively.
They were many.
They were confident.
They believed numbers mattered.
For the first few minutes, it almost looked even.
Yuya kept dodging—slipping past blades by inches, laughing softly as attacks cut nothing but air.
"Too slow," he muttered, smashing an elbow into a throat.
Mitsuki moved lazily, twisting aside at the last moment, letting attacks pass through where her body had been a second earlier. She smiled as a blade skimmed past her waist.
"Careful," she teased. "You almost touched me."
Akari threw only two syringes.
Just two.
Both men dropped silently, bodies convulsing for a second before going still.
Hiroshi walked forward.
Hands empty.
No rush.
No reaction.
Someone laughed.
Then another.
A guard shouted,
> "That's it? You think you can storm our clan with just four people?"
Another rushed Yuya, roaring,
> "You think you can infiltrate our clan?!"
Yuya's grin widened.
"Yeah," he said softly. "That's exactly what we're doing."
The air shifted.
And the real massacre began.