The sound of metal echoed sharply against the white-tiled corridor.
Clank.
Clank.
Samuel staggered forward, wrists bound tightly by cold steel cuffs. His disheveled lab coat dragged on the floor, brushing against his boots with every reluctant step. He glared at the man walking in front of him—the same man he had once thought was a partner, a friend. Kuro's black coat fluttered slightly as he adjusted his hat, pressing the brim low to hide his eyes.
Samuel's voice trembled with restrained fury.
"Kuro… what are you doing? Where are you taking me?!"
Kuro didn't answer. Instead, he tugged the chain connecting the cuffs and forced Samuel forward like a prisoner. They passed two security checkpoints, their boots echoing against the polished floor.
A pair of guards at the end of the hall raised their heads.
"Hold on," one of them said, stepping closer. "Where are you taking the scientist?"
Kuro's tone was flat but carried a weight of authority.
"Transfer order. Higher-ups decided he's too dangerous to keep here. He's to be moved to another facility."
The guard hesitated. "We didn't receive any—"
"Check your comms," Kuro interrupted, already walking past. "They got the notice this morning. A guard will take a scientist to another jail. It's all logged."
The guards exchanged glances. One tapped his earpiece, and after a moment his expression changed from doubt to reluctant acknowledgment. "He's right," the guard muttered to his partner. "It's in the morning briefing. Higher-up orders."
With that, they stepped aside.
Samuel's eyes widened slightly.
"You… forged the order?"
Kuro gave the faintest smirk but didn't slow down.
"Not forged. Manipulated. I only told them what they already wanted to believe."
They reached the exit, where a matte-black four-wheeled police vehicle waited, engine humming softly. Kuro opened the back door and shoved Samuel inside. He slid in after him, cuffs still in his grip, and the door locked with a heavy click.
Rain streaked down the windows as the vehicle pulled out of the compound. The city's neon glow reflected off puddles, painting the world outside in shades of blue and red.
Samuel shifted in his seat, his voice a mixture of confusion and anger.
"How did you do it, Kuro?!"
Kuro tilted his head slightly, eyes hidden beneath the brim of his hat.
"I used Guren and the government to manipulate the system. Told them I needed you for one thing. They let me."
Samuel stared at him, incredulous.
"Government? Why the government?"
A low chuckle escaped Kuro's lips, but there was no humor in it.
"Oh, you don't know. I guess nobody told you. The government—our so-called top head minister Brown—is the one controlling Guren. Betraying Guren…" he paused, letting the words sink in, "…means betraying the government, doesn't it?"
Samuel felt a cold weight drop into his stomach.
"So you're saying… Brown himself…?"
Kuro nodded once, eyes still on the rain-splattered window.
"Yes. Brown isn't just an administrator. He's the puppeteer pulling every string. Guren's moves, the facility's research, even the guards we just passed—they all answer to him. You've been working under the government without even realizing it."
The car swerved off the main road into a narrower street lined with abandoned warehouses. Samuel's heart pounded. The city lights faded behind them as shadows grew thicker.
"And where exactly are you taking me?" Samuel demanded.
Kuro's reply was cool, almost detached.
"A cornered place. Somewhere the government's eyes can't see."
Samuel leaned forward, chains clinking.
"You've betrayed us, Kuro. You betrayed me. How am I supposed to believe anything you say?"
For the first time, Kuro's eyes met his. They were dark but steady.
"You will see in about five minutes."
Samuel clenched his fists.
"How?"
Kuro leaned back, hat tilted so the dim interior light caught the edge of his face.
"Because in five minutes, an Eclipse user will be born during this lunar eclipse."
Samuel blinked, unsure if he'd heard correctly.
"What are you talking about?"
Kuro's voice lowered, each word deliberate.
"In the lab, there was one potential Eclipse user. High affinity. But I didn't want Guren to get the power. So I performed the checkups myself. Every subject's affinity was tested with the digital device—the one you built."
Samuel's breath caught.
"You… used my device?"
Kuro nodded.
"Yes. And the data told me what I needed. Of all the captured people, only one boy had true Eclipse potential. The others…" he glanced out the window at the darkening sky, "…they're empty vessels. Not a drop of Eclipse power in them."
The rain outside intensified, drumming against the car roof. The world blurred into gray streaks as the vehicle sped through back alleys.
Samuel's voice was hoarse now, trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief.
"So you let him go? You let that boy go?"
Kuro's answer was quiet but firm.
"I set him free. Away from Guren. Away from the government. If they got their hands on him, they'd twist his power into a weapon. I couldn't allow that."
Samuel's cuffs rattled as he shifted.
"You expect me to believe you're doing this out of… mercy?"
Kuro's lips curved in a thin, bitter smile.
"Mercy? No. Strategy. You think I want to save the boy out of kindness? No, Samuel. I want to break the system from the inside. And to do that, I need you."
Samuel looked down at his hands. The metal bit into his wrists, but he barely felt it. His mind churned with everything Kuro had just revealed—the government's control, the manipulated experiments, the missing boy.
Outside, the sky had turned a deep indigo. The moon, massive and pale, was beginning to slide behind the Earth's shadow.
Kuro's voice broke through Samuel's thoughts.
"Look."
He gestured toward the window.
Samuel turned. Through the streaked glass he saw the moon darkening, a rusty crimson hue creeping across its surface. The lunar eclipse had begun.
Kuro's eyes glinted under his hat.
"This is the moment. The convergence of solar and lunar rim energy. The only time the pill you made can reach full potential. Do you understand now why I moved?"
Samuel's heart hammered.
"You're saying that boy… right now…"
Kuro nodded once.
"Right now, he's awakening. Away from Guren. Away from Brown. Free."
Silence settled in the vehicle, heavy and electric. The only sounds were the engine's low growl and the steady rhythm of rain.
Finally, Samuel spoke, his voice low.
"Then why me? Why bring me?"
Kuro exhaled slowly.
"Because you're the only one who can stabilize an Eclipse user after the awakening. Without you, the boy's power will tear him apart. And without him, we have no chance of fighting back."
Samuel stared at him, his anger warring with a flicker of something else—doubt, or perhaps reluctant understanding.
Kuro leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"In five minutes, Samuel, everything changes. Whether you like it or not, you're part of it."
The car turned sharply into a deserted lot surrounded by crumbling brick walls. It came to a stop under a rusted awning, the rain pattering against metal.
Kuro reached into his coat and pulled out a small device—a communicator with its screen dark. He held it up for Samuel to see.
"This is our link to him. The boy. When the awakening completes, this will light up."
Samuel swallowed hard.
"And if it doesn't?"
Kuro's eyes darkened.
"Then we're already too late."
He unlocked the cuffs but didn't remove them entirely, letting them hang loose as a warning.
"You can fight me if you want, Samuel. Or you can wait five minutes and see the truth for yourself."
The lunar eclipse deepened. The moon above turned blood-red, casting the lot in an eerie glow. Samuel felt the air itself shift, a faint pulse like a heartbeat thrumming against his skin.
Kuro closed his communicator and tucked it back into his coat.
"Five minutes," he repeated.
Samuel sat back, eyes fixed on the crimson moon, mind racing. He still didn't trust Kuro. But the world outside felt different now, heavier, like the edge of something vast and unseen.
As the vehicle's engine idled, both men sat in silence—one watching the sky, the other watching the man beside him—waiting for the moment that would decide everything.
And somewhere, far from the government's labs and Guren's reach, a boy with Eclipse affinity opened his eyes as power coursed through his veins.
---
The four-wheeled police vehicle hummed softly as it idled under the rusted awning. Rain pattered lightly against the roof, each drop carrying the rhythm of an approaching storm. The crimson glow of the lunar eclipse seeped into the lot, staining the world in hues of red and black.
Samuel leaned back against the cold seat, his cuffs jingling faintly as he crossed his arms. His mind swirled with a storm of questions. Betrayal, government manipulation, a missing boy with Eclipse affinity — it was all too much, yet one question burned at the center of it all.
He turned to Kuro, his voice sharp but tinged with genuine confusion.
"If you wanted the Eclipse power, why let him go free? Why not keep him and take his power before Guren or the government could interfere?"
Kuro shifted slightly, pulling the brim of his hat lower as though shielding himself from the question itself. His tone, however, was unwavering.
"Because if I let him be free, then during the eclipse he will both absorb and release energy simultaneously."
Samuel's brows knitted. "Absorb and release… at the same time?"
Kuro's lips curved into a thin smile.
"Yes. And the energy will be so vast that the whole world will see it. Not just a spark hidden in some lab — an eruption across the sky. A scar of light and shadow no one can ignore."
The air inside the vehicle grew heavier as the thought settled. Samuel felt his throat tighten.
"The whole world will see it… Then the Eclipse experiments—"
"—will no longer remain in secret," Kuro finished for him. His voice carried a strange satisfaction.
"Questions will rise against Minister Brown. Not just from the public, but from other governments as well. They'll want to know why this phenomenon exists, why we were experimenting with it, why people are disappearing. And Brown… he'll be forced to act."
Samuel clenched his jaw. "And he'll put the pressure on Guren."
Kuro gave a slow nod. "Exactly. Out of nowhere, Brown will have no choice but to tighten his leash on Guren, to demand results, explanations, sacrifices. And in that chaos—"
He leaned closer, his eyes glinting under the shadow of his hat.
"—I will move. Out of the middle, unseen, I will use my illusion power to steal the boy away. At that moment, no one will be watching me. They'll all be watching Brown and Guren, tearing at each other. And when the dust clears, I'll have what I need."
Samuel's breath hitched. The plan was cold, calculated, merciless. Yet there was no hesitation in Kuro's tone.
"You mean to use the boy as a weapon."
Kuro's eyes flickered with something unreadable — not quite denial, but not full admission either.
"A weapon, a key, a symbol… call it what you like. But he's the only one who can shake this rotten order."
The silence that followed was thick. Only the sound of the engine and the rain filled the space between them. Samuel turned to the window, watching the blood-red moon inch deeper into shadow. A gnawing unease dug into his chest.
---
Meanwhile, at the Central Police Station…
The fluorescent lights of the central precinct flickered, buzzing faintly against the stillness of the evening. Desks were scattered with reports, coffee mugs, and half-written forms, yet the usual banter of officers was noticeably absent. Conversations died down when Sui Hiroshi walked past, and when words were exchanged with him, they carried only the bare minimum — professional, polite, and empty.
Hiroshi felt their distance, though he never let it show on his face. Being a Catherine — an outsider by bloodline — meant he had always stood at the edge of their world. Some of the younger officers tried to mask their prejudice with awkward friendliness, but the truth lingered in their eyes. He was tolerated, not embraced.
He sat alone in his staff room, a cramped space with a desk, two shelves of case files, and a small window overlooking the city. The rain traced silver lines down the glass, blurring the glow of neon signs outside.
He leaned back in his chair, hands clasped tightly, and exhaled.
"Kaito…" he murmured under his breath.
The image of his son rose unbidden in his mind. A perfect boy, obedient and kind. He had never once raised his voice, never once argued, never once disobeyed. Always listening, always carrying the burdens placed upon him without complaint.
That silence haunted Hiroshi more than any rebellion could have.
Why are you so quiet, my son? What is it that you hide in that silence?
He rubbed his temples, his heart heavy.
"Kaito never complained about anything I said… he listened to everything. And yet… why do I feel as though he's suffering? What pain are you carrying, boy?"
The clock on his desk ticked softly, each second dragging heavier than the last. The hands pointed to 7:10 PM. The precinct was quieter than usual, as though the whole building held its breath.
Hiroshi glanced at the calendar pinned to the wall. A small note he had scribbled weeks ago caught his eye:
"Lunar Eclipse — rare occurrence."
He let out a weary chuckle.
"Luna rarely has eclipses. Perhaps… perhaps I should watch it. Something rare deserves witness, doesn't it?"
He stood, straightening his uniform jacket. As he walked down the hallway, he caught glimpses of his colleagues chatting in low tones, their eyes sliding away when he passed. He ignored it — as he always had. Their silence was nothing compared to the silence of his own son.
Climbing the stairs, he reached the rooftop access door. The night air rushed against him as he stepped outside. Rain had slowed to a drizzle, leaving the air crisp, cool, and faintly metallic.
And there it was.
The moon, vast and swollen, already half-bathed in shadow. A crimson hue licked at its edges, spreading slowly across its pale surface. Hiroshi's breath caught at the sight.
"Beautiful… and ominous."
He leaned against the railing, his thoughts pulling back to Kaito again.
"What are you hiding, my boy? Why does your silence feel louder than any scream?"
The clock tower nearby chimed softly — 7:15 PM.
The eclipse deepened.
---
Back to the Vehicle…
The glow of the crimson moon spilled through the windshield, painting Kuro's face in shades of red. Samuel sat stiffly, heart pounding as he felt the very air shift around them. The atmosphere was heavier now, vibrating faintly like the hum of unseen power.
Kuro checked his communicator again. Its screen was still dark, but his eyes didn't waver.
"Five minutes," he repeated, voice steady.
Samuel felt the world closing in — Guren, Brown, the experiments, the boy, Kuro's plan, and now the sky itself turning red with cosmic fire. He whispered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else:
"What kind of world are we stepping into?"
Outside, in the silence between raindrops, the crimson moon glared down, watching them all.
And somewhere far from the eyes of the government, a boy stirred — his veins lit with power as the Eclipse neared its peak.
---
The ancient tower of Old Town creaked against the night wind. Once a watchtower, it now stood like a relic of forgotten days, its bricks darkened by soot and time, its spiral staircase worn down by countless feet. From its highest balcony, the entire city stretched into the distance—neon lights flickering against the black horizon, rivers of headlights crawling along the highways. But tonight, all eyes turned upward.
The moon hung above, swollen and pale, shadow already beginning to crawl across its surface. Crimson licked the edges like fire, spreading wider with every passing second. The air buzzed, not with electricity, but with something far heavier—an invisible weight pressing down on the world.
Kaito leaned against the stone railing, arms crossed, eyes half-closed as though he were merely watching another quiet evening unfold. But his body told a different story. Every bone ached faintly, every muscle carried the echo of the chemicals forced into him weeks ago. It was pain that never left, always simmering in the background. He had learned to bear it, to fold it into silence, to wear it like a second skin.
Arthur stood beside him, arms resting on the railing, his expression tight. He said nothing, but his gaze kept flicking between Kaito and the moon as if measuring how much time they had left.
The tower door creaked open. Footsteps echoed lightly on the stone floor. Alia stepped out, her long hair swaying in the wind, her eyes fixed directly on Kaito.
"Kaito," she said softly, but there was no gentleness in her words. "You act normal. Too normal. Even though you were kidnapped weeks ago… how can you look so calm?"
Kaito turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze. His voice was low, steady, carrying no edge of complaint.
"What should I do then? Cry? Whine? Scream at the sky?"
Alia's lips parted, but no words came.
Kaito exhaled slowly and looked back at the moon.
"If I break down, nothing changes. Pain doesn't stop just because I show it. So… I stay quiet."
But even as he said it, the silence within him shifted. A familiar burn crept up his spine, spreading like fire into his chest and arms. The chemical scars—the twisted experiments Guren's people had forced into him—surged awake with the pressure of the night.
He clenched his teeth, his knuckles whitening as his hand gripped the railing.
It's fine. I've endured worse. Just keep standing. Don't let them see it.
But then, like a knife to the skull, pain shot through his head. A blinding ache seized him, so sudden he staggered back.
Arthur's hand shot out, steadying him.
"Kaito?!"
The world blurred. The crimson light of the eclipse smeared across his vision, twisting shapes into shadows. His knees buckled. His breath caught.
And then—he saw her.
A figure stepping out of the dark corners of his mind. A girl.
Her hair was long, purple as neon lights, strands falling over one of her eyes, hiding it completely. The other eye, visible beneath the curtain of hair, gleamed with a strange, unnatural light. She smiled at him—but it was not the smile of a friend, nor even of an enemy. It was something crueler, hungrier.
Her lips curved slowly, her voice slithering into his mind like silk soaked in venom.
Kaito's breath caught. His body felt frozen.
She tilted her head, her eye gleaming like a blade in the dark.
"I will consume you."
The words echoed, pounding inside his skull, louder and louder until the world cracked apart—
—then nothing.
Darkness.
---
When Kaito opened his eyes again, he wasn't standing. He was being carried. Arthur's arms held him tightly, his voice sharp and panicked.
"Kaito! Kaito, wake up!"
The sounds of others filled the tower balcony. People whispered, gasped, their tones laced with confusion and fear.
"What happened to him?"
"Did he collapse?"
"His body… look at it!"
Kaito groaned faintly, forcing his eyes open. The world swam before settling, but something was wrong—terribly wrong.
Arthur's eyes widened as he looked down at him.
"Kaito… your eyes…"
Kaito blinked. His vision sharpened unnaturally, every detail of the world snapping into clarity. His heart pounded, not with fear, but with something else—something alien coursing through his veins.
The whispers grew louder around him.
"His eyes… crimson!"
"That glow… is that—"
"—Catherine traits…"
Kaito's breath quickened. He reached up instinctively, his fingers brushing his face. His reflection, faintly visible in the shard of a cracked glass lantern nearby, confirmed it—his irises had turned a deep, burning crimson.
And that wasn't all.
His skin pulsed faintly, glowing with thin lines of light—a rim of energy weaving across his arms and chest, glowing blue like the edge of a flame. It didn't burn, but it thrummed, resonating with the beat of his heart.
Arthur nearly dropped him, shock flashing across his face.
"Kaito… what is happening to you?"
Kaito tried to answer, but words died in his throat. His body was trembling, glowing, vibrating with a power he had never felt before. Every nerve sang, every vein felt alive with energy. It was as if the pain of weeks—the chemical agony, the endless torment—had been reshaped, reforged into something else entirely.
He staggered to his feet, Arthur supporting him. The others around them stepped back, fear in their eyes.
And then—he looked up.
The moon loomed above. No longer pale, no longer serene. It was blood-red now, fully consumed by Earth's shadow. The lunar eclipse had begun.
The crimson light poured down upon him, striking his glowing form like a beacon. His crimson eyes locked onto the moon, and for a heartbeat the world seemed to hold its breath.
Kaito's chest rose and fell, his body trembling with the pull of something vast, incomprehensible. His Catherine traits had awakened—not gradually, but violently, erupting into the night just as the eclipse began.
The voices of those around him blurred, drowned out by the thunder in his ears.
What… am I becoming?
And as the moon burned red above, his blue glow burned brighter.
The eclipse had only just begun.