Shido gripped the edge of the window until his knuckles turned white. He hated feeling scared. It made him feel weak, and Shido Kirishima was never weak. He looked up at the pale, cold moon and cursed the dream one last time.
"If I ever see her for real," he muttered, his blue eyes turning sharp and dangerous, "I'll kill her myself just for ruining my sleep."
The cold night breeze blew through his messy blue hair, chilling the sweat on his neck. His eyes were still wide and tired, dark circles starting to show beneath them. He rubbed his face hard with his palms, trying to scrub away the image of those hollow, black holes in the woman's face.
He looked back into the dark corners of his room. Every shadow looked like a reaching hand. Every coat hanging on the wall looked like a person standing still.
"That's it," he whispered to the empty air, his voice shaking just a little. "No more horror movies at night. Never again. Not even for a dare."
He hesitated, then slowly dropped to his knees. He took a deep breath and peeped under his bed, half-expecting a pair of black eyes to stare back at him.
Empty. Only dust.
He let out a long breath and reached for a large, soft panda plushie sitting on his chair. The plushie wore a small silk ribbon around its neck, and on it, the name Tamiko was written in neat letters. It was a gift he treated with more care than anything else he owned.
He picked it up and hugged it tightly against his chest, burying his face in the soft fur.
"Sorry, Tamiko," he mumbled to the toy, his voice muffled. "But right now, even stuffed toys are scaring the life out of me."
Suddenly—VRRRRRR!
A sharp, mechanical sound ripped through the silence.
"AHH!" Shido screamed, jumping back and nearly dropping the panda. His heart did a frantic somersault in his chest. He stood frozen for a second, his ears ringing, until his brain finally recognised the sound.
It was an engine. A car engine.
He hurried back to the window and leaned out, looking down at the road. Below, he saw the family car. The headlights broke through the dark like two yellow blades, and shone on the wet foothpath.
"Dad?" he whispered.
He realized it must be Mr. Kamitani. The car started to roll forward, its tires crunching on small stones .
"Hey! Dad!" Shido shouted from the window, waving one arm wildly while holding the panda in the other. "Where are you going so late? Did something happen?"
The car didn't slow down. It didn't honk. It just kept moving, turning out of the driveway and disappearing into the darkness of the street.
Shido stood there, his arm still raised. The red back lights faded into the mist until they were gone.
"Wow. Rude," Shido nagged, crossing his arms and sighing. "Why didn't he hear me? I was practically screaming."
He turned back toward his room and narrowed his eyes at the glowing clock on his bedside table. The red numbers blinked back at him: 3:00 AM.
"Three in the morning?" He scratched his head, his annoyance turning into confusion.
"What kind of emergency happens at three in the morning? Is the office on fire or something?"
He stood in the middle of the room for a moment, the silence feeling heavy again. Then, a grin spread across his face as he tried to laugh the weird feeling away.
"Actually," he chuckled to himself, tossing the panda back onto his bed. "I bet I know what it is. Old man probably snuck out to grab a drink with some pretty ladies. Classic. Wait until I tell Mom tomorrow. He is so dead."
He laughed again, but the sound was thin. He stayed by the window, watching the empty spot where the car had been, wondering why the house suddenly felt so much colder.
Shido let out a long sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. He couldn't go back to sleep now—not with that silver-haired woman waiting in his dreams. He stepped out of his room, the wooden floorboards feeling cold under his bare feet.
He started walking down the stairs, his shoulders slumped. He opened his mouth wide and let out a giant, noisy yawn, covering it with the back of his hand.
Halfway down the staircase, Shido stopped.
A figure was standing at the bottom, right in front of the main door. Shido blinked. He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them hard, shaking his head. When he opened them again, the figure was still there.
It was Kento.
He was standing perfectly still in the dark hallway, his arms hanging at his sides. He didn't have his usual kind look; his face was blank, like a mask made of stone. He was just staring up at Shido with no expression at all.
Shido rolled his eyes and let out an annoyed huff. "Oh, great. The ghost of the grumpy brother returns," he muttered.
He stayed on the stairs, looking down at Kento. "What are you doing down here? I thought you wanted to be alone. I thought I was 'the reason you're angry,' remember? Why aren't you in bed?"
Kento didn't move. He didn't blink. He just kept staring, his green eyes looking dark in the shadows.
Shido waited for a reply, but the silence just grew longer. "Fine. Whatever. Be like that,"
Shido sighed, waving a hand rudely. "You're not talking to me, right? Good. Perfect."
Kento opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but Shido held up a finger to stop him.
"Don't. Save your breath," Shido snapped. "I don't want to talk to you either. My ears need a break from your complaining anyway."
Shido leaned against the handrail, trying to act like he didn't care that his brother looked like a stranger. "Anyway, did you see Dad leave? And is Mom still home, or did she go with him?"
Kento finally spoke. His voice was flat, with no emotion at all. "Why don't you find out yourself? Besides... you shouldn't bother me, right?"
Shido's face turned red with annoyance. He scratched his messy hair hard, feeling his temper rise. "Wow. You're really going to use that against me? You're the one who started the 'leave me alone' drama!"
He opened his mouth to say something else—something mean—but Kento didn't wait.
Without another word, Kento turned around and started walking up the stairs. He walked right past Shido, his shoulder almost brushing Shido's, but he didn't look at him. He didn't even acknowledge he was there.
Shido stood on the stairs, watching Kento disappear into the darkness of the upper floor.
"Yeah, go ahead! Walk away!" Shido shouted after him, though his voice was a bit lower so he wouldn't wake the whole house. "You're such a pain, you know that? Stubborn, grumpy little brat!"
Kento didn't answer. He didn't even slow down.
Shido turned back toward the front door, muttering curses under his breath. The house felt even colder now, and the silence Kento left behind felt even heavier than the nightmare.
"Something is definitely wrong," he whispered.
He didn't like the way the air felt—it was too still, too cold. He decided to check on his mother. He needed to see a normal face, someone who would tell him he was just being a paranoid idiot.
He walked down the hallway toward his parents' bedroom. The floorboards didn't creak; they seemed to muffle his footsteps, making the house feel even more like a tomb. He reached the door and put his hand over the handle.
'She's probably just sleeping,' he thought. 'I'll open the door, see her snoring, and then I'll go eat some cereal and feel stupid.'
He turned the handle.
CLICK.
The door swung open slowly. The room was bathed in a pale, grey light from the moon.
"Mom?" Shido called out softly. "You awake? Dad just took the car and—"
He stopped.
The bed was perfectly made. The sheets were pulled tight, without a single wrinkle. No one was under the covers. The pillows were fluffed and cold.
Shido walked further into the room, his heart starting to thud against his ribs again. He looked at the nightstand. Her phone wasn't there. Her glasses weren't there. He turned toward the bathroom and pushed the door open.
EMPTY.
The air in the bathroom smelled faintly of her lavender soap, but the tiles were dry. The towels were hanging neatly. It looked like no one had been in here for hours.
"Where is everyone?" Shido muttered. He felt a bead of cold sweat slide down his temple.
He walked back into the bedroom and looked around. That was when he noticed something. The window was open just an inch. The heavy velvet curtains were shivering in the breeze, making a soft sound against the wall.
He walked to the window and looked down at the backyard. It was just dark trees and shadows shifting in the wind.
'Did they leave together?' he wondered. 'But I only saw one person in the car. And the car door only slammed once.'
He stepped back, his head beginning to ache. First the nightmare, then Kento acting like a hollow shell of a person, and now his parents were just... gone. No note. No sound. Just an empty, perfect bed at three in the morning.
"This isn't funny anymore," Shido said.
He felt a sudden, sharp urge to run back to his room and lock the door. The house didn't feel like his home. It felt like a stage where the actors had all disappeared, leaving him alone in the dark.
He backed out of the room, keeping his eyes on the empty bed until he reached the hallway. He closed the door quickly, the sound of the latch echoing loudly through the silent house.
"Maybe they went to the hospital? Or some family emergency?" he whispered, trying to find a logical reason. But his gut told him something else. The way Kento had been standing by the door... Kento knew they were gone.
"That brat," Shido hissed, his fear turning back into a protective anger. "He knows something. He's definitely hiding something."
He looked toward Kento's room at the end of the hall. The door was closed, and no light shone from underneath it.
The Kanzaki mansion stood far away from the noise of the city.
It was huge and wide, spread across green land like it owned the night itself. The mansion was not tall like an office building. It was long, grand, and royal, with wide wings stretching on both sides. Soft stone walls, tall pillars, and large glass windows gave it a calm but powerful look.
In front of the mansion, a garden lay perfectly shaped. Tall trees stood in neat lines. Bushes were cut into clean patterns. A stone fountain rested at the center, silent in the night. To one side, a long swimming pool reflected the sky, its water still and dark.
Lights were placed carefully around the garden paths. They did not shine bright. They glowed softly, making the mansion look distant and untouchable. Beyond the garden, trees surrounded the land, hiding the house from the outside world.
The night air here felt different. Cooler. Quieter. Heavier. Most of the mansion was dark. Only one room, high on the upper floor, had its lights on. That single light made the mansion look awake.
Inside that room, the air was very chilly because the air conditioner was working hard. A computer monitor sat on a large desk, its blue glow filling the space. A person sat on a high chair with his back to the door. He wore a long-sleeved t-shirt and pajama. Large headphones covered his ears as he listened to music.
His finger moved the mouse over and over, scrolling through a website. The person picked up a bottle of strawberry juice and took a drink. He let out a tired sigh.
"Nothing but dead ends," he whispered. His voice was quiet and sharp. "Why is there no record of this anywhere? It's like the world is pretending these symbols don't exist."
He opened another website and started typing on the keyboard. He was looking for the meaning of some marks and things that could not be explained. He scrolled through many pages but found nothing. He became annoyed.
"Useless. All of it," he muttered, clicking the mouse harder. "Just people making up stories. I need the truth, not fairy tales."
He grabbed his headphones and pulled them off. The music kept playing, but he did not care. He stood up from his chair. As he walked toward the bed, the light hit his head. His hair was a little messy, but it was still a bright, golden color. This was Kashima.
He opened a drawer in the small table next to his bed. He pulled out a tube of white cream for aching bones. He squeezed some onto his fingers. He pulled his shirt down to reveal his collarbone and started to rub the cream in slowly.
"Damn it," he muttered grumpily, his teeth gritted in pain. "It feels like someone is hammering a nail into my bone."
He rubbed the cream until his skin felt cold. He looked at his reflection in the dark window.
"You're hiding something, Kamitani. And I'm going to find out what it is," he said to the empty room.
He went back to the desk to read more, but he realized his bottle of juice was empty. He shook the bottle, hoping for one more drop, but nothing came out.
"Great. Now I'm thirsty." he sighed.
He grabbed the empty bottle and opened his door. He stepped out into the dark hallway and started going down the grand staircase toward the kitchen to fetch a new one.
He walked down slowly, one step at a time, his fingers resting on the cold railing. The mansion was too big, too quiet. Every step echoed back at him, small and weak, like he did not belong here at all. The high ceiling swallowed sound. The long halls swallowed people.
Sometimes, Kashima felt like a tiny ant crawling through a giant's palace.
He reached the bottom of the staircase and turned toward the kitchen. The walk felt endless. He passed tall statues carved from white stone—men with proud faces and empty eyes. He passed closed doors and dark rooms that looked untouched, like no one truly lived in them.
When he finally stepped into the kitchen, the air changed.
Moonlight poured in through the wide glass walls. It fell over the white counters and smooth floors, turning everything pale and sharp. The kitchen looked clean, perfect, almost lifeless. Like bones polished too well.
Kashima opened a large cupboard, moving boxes of tea and bags of expensive coffee with growing irritation.
'Where is it?' he thought, his jaw tightening. 'I told the maids to put it inside the bottom shelf.'
He knelt down and leaned into the cupboard. The back was dark and cold. He moved heavy glass jars aside. Metal tins clinked softly as he pushed them away. His fingers brushed against something cold and smooth. He pulled out a bottle of strawberry juice. 'Finally.'
He stood up slowly. The bottle felt cool in his hand. For a moment, his stomach growled. His eyes drifted to the counter where a pack of instant noodles lay forgotten.
He reached out.
Then stopped.
His hand froze in the air.
'No,' he thought.
'If the butlers and maids smells this, they'll talk. And Father will hear. And then comes the lecture. Perfect son. Perfect house. Perfect discipline.'
He turned away, but a heavy, dragging sound stopped him. Footsteps scraped unevenly against the marble.
"Careful master… easy steps," a man's voice whispered.
Kashima's body went still.
His heart jumped hard against his ribs. He moved quickly, stepping behind the large marble counter. He pressed his back to the cold stone and peeped around the edge.
Two figures appeared in the dim hall.
One of them was the butler of the house.
The man was old, thin, and straight-backed despite the late hour. His hair was grey and neatly combed. His black uniform was clean, even now. He had served this house longer than Kashima had been alive. He was the closest person his father had ever trusted.
The other man that leaned heavily against him
Kashima's father, Seijurou Kanzaki.
The name alone carried weight.
President of the Kanzaki Group. A man whose words moved markets. A man whose face appeared on magazines, news screens, and business halls across the country. Known for his sharp mind, clean image, and iron control. A man praised for building an empire from nothing.
Tonight, that man was barely standing.
His expensive suit was wrinkled. His tie hung loose around his neck. His steps were uneven, his body shaking with every move. Dark brown hair fell over his eyes, hiding them. The smell of strong alcohol reached Kashima even from a distance.
"Slowly, Master," the butler said again, calm but stiff. "The floor is slippery."
Seijurou laughed—a low, ugly sound.
"Slippery?" he spoke with messy words. "This whole damn house is slippery." He pressed a hand to his forehead, fingers trembling. "Lies everywhere… smiles everywhere…"
Kashima felt his chest tighten. 'Father…?'
Seijurou stopped walking. He leaned more of his weight onto the butler. "That woman…" he muttered. His voice dropped, thick and bitter. "Always smiling. Always busy. Always leaving."
"Master, please. Let's get you to your room," the butler pleaded.
"She thinks I don't know," Seijurou continued, his words slipping over each other. "Meeting people. Talking too softly. Laughing like she used to… not with me." He let out a broken laugh. "Does she think I'm blind?"
Kashima's fingers curled tightly around the bottle.
"She comes home late," Seijurou went on, his voice rising with rage. "Smelling like other places. Other people. Am I a fool? Is this my reward? I built everything. This house. This name. And she treats it like a joke."
Something burned under Kashima's collarbone. He stepped out from behind the counter.
"Father?" The sound cut through the hall.
The butler froze, his eyes widening in the dim light. "Young Master—please. Go back to your room."
Kashima did not move. He looked at the man in front of him. This was not the powerful figure from newspapers. This was not the cold, perfect father who spoke in measured words.
This man was shaking.
"Are you alright?" Kashima asked, taking a step forward. "You're hurt—"
Seijurou suddenly looked up. His eyes were bright red and looked wild and angry. Before Kashima could even reach out to touch him, Seijurou pushed him away really hard right in the chest.
"Don't touch me!" he shouted. "Do you know who I am?!"
---
✦ 🔮 A GLIMPSE INTO THE NEXT CHAPTER 🔮 ✦
"What awaits beyond this page...?" 🌙
(灬･◡･灬)♡
"You loud, pathetic… son of a bitch."
"Three in the morning. Exactly 3:00 AM."
----
🌙 The stars may fade, and memories may sleep...
But the Spiral continues to turn.
Until we meet again beneath the same forgotten sky.
(๑¯◡¯๑)
— SakuraShinomiya