10 Years Ago… Suitsen City
Amid the shimmering shadows of the city, the Slum District remained a forgotten world—a den of hunger, disease, and despair. But for young Himato, it was the only place he could call home.
That night, a thick fog drifted low over the muddy streets, cloaking the narrow alleys in a suffocating gloom. The cold wind carried the stench of overflowing sewers. Himato, a frail ten-year-old boy, hid behind a pile of worn-out wooden barrels. His body trembled—not just from the biting cold but from the terror that gripped his soul.
Dark figures emerged from the street corner. Soldiers in black uniforms—Alamen's mercenaries—marched steadily. The torchlight in their hands flickered wildly, casting monstrous silhouettes on the grimy walls. Their eyes were empty, devoid of mercy.
"Clean out this district!" A commander's voice echoed through the night, cold and emotionless.
A moment later, swords were drawn, spears swung, and flames began to consume the ramshackle huts. Screams filled the air—the wails of mothers losing their children, the anguished cries of men fighting in vain against a merciless fate. Blood seeped between the cracks of the cobblestones, forming thick red pools that mixed with the mud.
Himato bit the back of his hand, struggling to silence the sobs that threatened to escape his throat. His eyes widened as he saw an old woman—his kind neighbor, the one who always slipped him a piece of bread when hunger gnawed at his belly—collapse with a dagger buried in her back. Her lips moved as if trying to say something before her body finally crumpled to the ground.
Children screamed, struggling as they were torn from their mothers' arms. Some tried to flee, but spears were swifter than their feet. Corpses piled up, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood and the sickening stench of burning flesh.
Himato squeezed his eyes shut, wishing this was just a nightmare.
He tried to move, but his legs felt frozen. His body refused to obey. From behind the wooden barrels, he saw a boy slightly older than himself desperately trying to pull his lifeless mother. His hands were covered in blood, his hoarse voice begging her to wake up. But a soldier grabbed his collar, lifting him like a sack of grain.
"Let me go! Don't take my mother!" The boy kicked and struggled, but the soldier only laughed coldly before throwing him to the ground. A spear plunged into his back, snuffing out his life in an instant.
Himato clamped a hand over his mouth, forcing himself not to scream. His heart pounded violently, his ears rang. He wanted to run, but where? There was no safe place. Death awaited everywhere.
Suddenly, a pair of rough hands yanked him into the darkness. Himato gasped, about to scream, but another hand covered his mouth.
"Don't make a sound," a voice whispered behind him.
He turned to see a ragged old man with weary eyes. The man gripped his hand tightly, then pulled him into a narrow gap between two crumbling houses. They hid there, amidst ruins and shadows.
Time crawled painfully slow. Outside, the sounds of slaughter grew distant, but Himato knew the destruction was far from over. He felt trapped in a hell with no escape. He looked up at the old man, his eyes filled with fear and confusion.
"You must survive, boy," the man whispered, his voice hoarse. "Don't die here."
Himato nodded, though deep inside, he had no idea how to stay alive.
Suddenly, the sound of hooves approached. A bright light pierced through the fog. From the opposite direction, a tall figure clad in a dark cloak emerged—Alamen.
"Lord Akiron… you've finally arrived." Alamen's voice was deep and cold, filled with an eerie calm.
Lord Akiron surveyed the devastation before him, his jaw tightening. "Alamen, you've gone too far. This isn't war—it's a massacre!"
Alamen smirked, his eyes gleaming with twisted delight. "And what will you do? Stop me?"
Lord Akiron drew his sword, the steel catching the flickering torchlight. "I won't let this continue. In the name of the High Council, you will answer for this atrocity!"
Alamen chuckled softly. "The High Council? Nonsense. They sit comfortably on their thrones while the world burns. I am merely enacting natural selection. The weak must die."
Lord Akiron stepped forward, his expression unwavering. "If that's what you believe, then you're nothing more than a beast. I won't let you destroy more lives."
Alamen scoffed and waved a hand. "End this resistance, Akiron. You know this won't end well for you. If you still have any sense of self-preservation, leave before I count you among my enemies."
"I won't leave." Lord Akiron raised his sword high.
Alamen narrowed his eyes, then exhaled sharply. "What a shame…"
Before the battle could break out, a child's scream pierced the air.
Himato, unable to hold himself back any longer, stumbled out from his hiding place. His legs wobbled, his breaths came in ragged gasps. In desperation, he fell to his knees before Lord Akiron, his eyes hollow, his body trembling violently.
"Please…" his voice barely a whisper in the suffocating silence.
Lord Akiron gazed at him for a long moment. The sharp glint in his eyes softened, shifting into something deeper—understanding, compassion, or perhaps an unspoken emotion beyond words.
With one swift motion, Lord Akiron lifted Himato onto his horse. The small boy trembled, his hands clutching tightly onto the noble's cloak as if afraid of falling back into the hell he had just escaped.
"You don't have to be afraid anymore," Lord Akiron murmured, his voice deep yet warm—like a flickering fire in the middle of a snowstorm. "No one will hurt you as long as you're with me."
Over his shoulder, Himato saw Alamen still standing amidst the sea of corpses, his thin smile unchanged. His crimson eyes followed them as Lord Akiron's horse turned and galloped away.
"Run as far as you can, Akiron," Alamen's voice echoed through the ruined alleys. "But you know… one day, your blood will stain these streets too!"
The horse sped through the gates of the slum district, leaving behind the fading cries of the doomed. Himato shut his eyes tightly, trying to erase the images of the fallen. But the scent of blood clung to his nostrils, searing into his mind.
"What's your name, little one?" Lord Akiron asked as they crossed a stone bridge into the noble district.
"H-Himato," he stammered.
"Alright, Himato. From now on, you will live in my estate. You'll be safe there."
The Akiron estate was magnificent, with towering spires and gardens filled with rare flowers. But to Himato, it felt strange—too bright, too clean. Servants whispered as they saw their master bringing in a ragged child. A woman in a blue gown—Akaren, Lord Akiron's daughter—stood at the marble staircase, her eyes wide with curiosity.
"Father, who is this?"
"My most valuable find tonight," Lord Akiron replied curtly. "He will stay with us."
Akaren, still a teenager at the time, studied Himato from head to toe. Her nose wrinkled at the sight of blood on his arms, but then she extended a hand. "Come on, you need a bath. I have clean clothes for you."
Himato hesitated, but Akaren's touch was firm and warm. For the first time since that night, he felt that maybe—just maybe—there was still kindness in the world.
One year later, Lord Akiron was murdered.
His body was found hanging at the estate gates, a stab wound in his chest and a warning letter from Alamen clenched in his lifeless fingers.
Himato, now eleven, knelt beside the corpse, his hands balled into fists. His tears had dried, replaced by the blazing fire of vengeance.
"I will destroy you, Alamen," he vowed silently. "In my own way."
Akaren, now forced to take her father's place, rested a hand on his shoulder. "We will have our revenge," she whispered, her voice as cold as a blade. "But not openly. Alamen is too strong to face head-on."
Himato nodded. He knew the path he had to take—the path of shadows, where assassins and spies thrived.
Ten Years Later, Evernight City...
Hunter Union Headquarters, Evernight Branch...
Garens sat behind his dark wooden desk, his large tattooed hand gripping a glass filled with thick red wine. In front of him, Astrone, the black cat, sat gracefully, its tail curled like a question mark. Its sharp yellow eyes stared at Garens with intense focus.
"Kael has arrived in Suitsen," Astrone said, its voice more like a deep rumble than that of an ordinary cat. "But we have another problem."
Garens exhaled, rubbing his coarse beard. "Himato."
Astrone nodded slowly. "He's too involved. He came a week before Kael left, offering to be an informant. I sense something... unusual."
Garens swirled his glass, watching the crimson liquid spin. "I do, too. But we need him. Suitsen isn't a place for Kael to fight alone."
One Week Before the Departure to Suitsen...
The Hunter Union headquarters was quiet, illuminated only by flickering oil lanterns. Garens and Astrone were studying a map of Suitsen when a shadow in the corner of the room shifted. Himato emerged, his face as cold as ever, but there was something different—an unease in his eyes.
"You know why I'm here," Himato said directly, skipping formalities.
Garens crossed his arms. "You want to interfere in Kael's mission."
"Not interfere. I want to make sure he doesn't die recklessly." Himato stepped closer, his voice low. "I have connections in Suitsen. I can be his eyes and ears."
Astrone leaped onto the table, its tail swaying slowly. "Why now? You've never cared about Union missions before."
Himato was silent for a moment before pulling out a rolled parchment from beneath his cloak—a sketch of Alamen's face with the Akiron family crest etched at the bottom. "This isn't just a mission. This is revenge."
Garens took the paper, his brow furrowing. "Lord Akiron. So that's your reason."
Himato didn't deny it. "Alamen killed him ten years ago. Akaren—his daughter—and I were the only survivors. And now, Kael is the best weapon to destroy Alamen."
Astrone let out a low hiss. "You're using Kael."
"No," Himato countered. "My goal aligns with the Union's. Alamen is a threat to everyone. But I can't do this alone."
Garens let out a long sigh, tossing the paper onto the table. "I don't like your game, Himato. But you're right about one thing—Alamen must be stopped."
Back to the Present...
Astrone growled softly. "We're letting Kael walk into a political trap. Himato has his own agenda—using Kael to kill Alamen, then allowing Akaren to seize power."
Garens nodded. "I know. But Alamen is too dangerous to be left alive. If Himato and Akaren can help Kael, so be it. Our priority is cleansing Suitsen of Alamen's influence."
Astrone blinked slowly. "And after that? If Akaren takes power, what's the guarantee she won't become the next Alamen?"
Garens gave a bitter smile. "That's a risk we have to take. But I trust Kael. He's not the type to be a pawn."
Outside the window, the night fog blanketed Evernight. Garens stood, gazing south—toward Suitsen.
"Kael may be alone there, but we have his back. And when the time comes, we will make sure Alamen truly falls."
Astrone leaped onto Garens' shoulder, whispering, "Let's hope you're right, Garens. Because if you're not, it won't just be Kael who dies—Evernight itself will feel Alamen's wrath."
Garens raised his glass, downing the wine in one gulp. "Then we must make sure that doesn't happen."
In Suitsen City, Bussiness District.....
Kael stood in front of the Milky Way restaurant, his fingers tapping the handle of the silver axe hidden beneath his coat. The restaurant was far too extravagant for his taste—crystal lights, golden plates, and nobles flashing fake smiles as if this city weren't being strangled by Alamen's shadow.
[Himato really chose an annoying place] he grumbled inwardly.
A waiter in an unnervingly crisp white shirt approached him. "May I help you, sir?"
"Kael. I was invited by Lady Akaren."
The waiter's expression changed instantly—somewhere between respect and fear. "P-Please, follow me."
Kael stepped into the Milky Way restaurant with a relaxed posture, but his eyes remained vigilant. The place looked like an ordinary fine-dining establishment, but he knew full well that Akaren used it as a hidden base. The rich aroma of food filled the air, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the laughter of patrons.
"This way, Lady Akaren is waiting for you."
Akaren was already seated at the farthest table, her black dress stark against her pale skin. In front of her were two wine glasses—one already half-empty.
"You're late," she said flatly.
Kael pulled out a chair. "Had to take a long detour. Guards are swarming this district."
Akaren wasn't surprised. Her fingers tapped against the glass. "But they wouldn't dare bother me here."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure?"
"For the past ten years, Alamen has killed everyone close to me—but not me." Akaren took a sip of her wine. "I'm too valuable as a political pawn. So yes, I'm sure."
A night breeze carried a faint scent of blood from the slums in the distance. Kael decided to get straight to the point.
"Himato said you have a plan to get me into the banquet tomorrow."
Akaren pulled a silver badge from her gown's pocket—the Akiron family crest. "You'll pretend to be my lover. But there's a problem."
"Selene."
"Exactly." Akaren clasped her fingers. "She never stays more than three steps away from Alamen. And she can smell a hunter from across the room."
Kael considered. "Isn't she weak to fire magic?"
"Yes, but…" Akaren lowered her gaze, her voice dropping to a whisper. "That's not her only weakness."
From beneath her gown's collar, Kael glimpsed something that made him freeze—a bite mark on Akaren's neck, surrounded by a web of blue tattoos.
"You and Selene—"
"—are bound by the same blood." Akaren cut him off, her eyes suddenly glowing a pale blue. "I was the first vessel she rejected nine years ago. That's why she can't kill me, and I can't kill her."
Nine Years Ago…
A teenage Selene knelt in the ruins of the Akiron estate, her hands drenched in blood. Before her, Alamen extended a silver chalice filled with a dark liquid.
"Drink, and you will become my greatest weapon," Alamen whispered.
But the moment Selene swallowed the demon's blood, her body convulsed violently. Blood poured from her eyes and mouth as she screamed in agony. In desperation, she grabbed the wounded girl nearby—Akaren—and bit into her neck, trying to transfer the curse.
"No… I can't…!" Selene coughed up blood before collapsing.
When she woke up, she found herself changed—half-human, half-demon, with an inexplicable bond to Akaren.
Back to the Present…
Kael exhaled. "So that's why they can't kill you."
Akaren nodded. "But tomorrow night, when the full moon reaches its peak, the bond will weaken for one hour." Her eyes gleamed coldly. "That's our only chance to kill Alamen before Selene recovers."
Kael studied her in silence, then let out a small smile. "I'm starting to like the way you work."
Akaren didn't respond, but her eyes showed that she acknowledged Kael's skill—even if she wouldn't say it out loud.
After their brief battle of words, they returned to the tactical table. Akaren laid out more details about the banquet, including contingency plans if things went south. Kael noticed how meticulous she was, how every move had been carefully thought out. This wasn't just a mission for revenge—this was war strategy.
As the night stretched on, Kael realized one thing: he might be a skilled bounty hunter, but Akaren was the mastermind behind this operation. If anyone could bring down Alamen, it was her.
Kael took another sip of wine and smirked. "Alright, Lady Akaren. Let's put on a show."
Akaren gave a thin smile, then stood up and extended her hand toward Kael. "Very well. In that case, come with me."
"W- Wait—"
Before Kael could react, Akaren grabbed his hand and pulled him forcefully into a room filled with clothing.
"Frotnir, help me," Akaren called to her personal attendant.
"Yes, my lady." The servant rushed forward and immediately gripped Kael's worn-out coat.
Before he knew it, Kael's hunter attire was swiftly stripped away. A professional hunter, yet powerless to resist, he simply followed along. Within minutes, he found himself dressed in an exquisite outfit for a noble of the Demon Court.
Kael frowned as Akaren adjusted his collar with an intimacy that felt… unnatural. "What are you doing?"
"Playing the part, Hunter," Akaren whispered, forcing a sweet smile. Her cold fingers brushed against Kael's cheek, turning his face toward the large mirror on the wall. "Look. In their eyes, you must be Baron Kaelric von Drakthar, a young noble from the east who has fallen madly in love with me."
Kael studied his reflection with an unfamiliar feeling. The deep blue velvet coat clung to him like ill-fitting armor, its high collar brushing against his jaw uncomfortably every time he moved.
"Relax your shoulders," Akaren murmured in his ear, adjusting the folds on his suit. "Nobles don't stand stiff like statues."
Her breath, warm against his skin, sent a chill down Kael's spine. He growled, "I'd rather fight wolves."
For the first time since they met, Akaren smiled—a genuine smile. Then, without warning, she yanked his collar down, bringing their faces dangerously close.
"Wolves won't kill you with poisoned wine or a dagger between your ribs," she whispered, her icy blue eyes freezing Kael in place. "At that banquet, every smile is a knife, every compliment a noose. You must become Baron Drakthar, or we die."
Kael held his breath. The scent of lavender and something sharper—vengeance?—filled his senses. Beneath the elegant gown and flawless makeup, Akaren trembled like an arrow ready to be released.
With a sudden movement, Kael twisted their positions, pressing Akaren against the mirror. "Teach me what can't be learned from books," he muttered, his right hand pressing against the glass beside her head. "How did you survive ten years in that viper's nest?"
Akaren didn't answer. Instead, her gloved fingers traced the claw marks on Kael's neck—scars from last night's battle against a vampire.
"You already know the answer," she whispered. "We both hide monsters beneath human skin."
Outside the room, the sky over Suitsen turned deep purple. The clock on the wall chimed seven times.
Twelve hours until the banquet of death…
In the basement of the Milky Way restaurant, repurposed into a training arena, Kael stood at the center of a circle of salt mixed with powdered silver—a makeshift demon trap.
"Again," ordered Akaren from the edge of the room, idly twirling a small dagger inlaid with moonstone.
Kael moved his hands in an intricate pattern, attempting to trigger the fire magic scroll he had acquired the night before. Only a small spark flickered, then faded.
"You're relying too much on muscle," Akaren critiqued as he stepped into the circle. "Fire magic is born from focused rage." Her hand suddenly grasped Kael's wrist, pressing a specific point beneath his thumb. "Here. Feel the heat but don't release it—"
Her touch was like an electric shock. The scroll in Kael's hand suddenly ignited, blue flames forming a perfect short blade.
"How—?"
"My family has a long history with fire mages." Akaren released her grip but did not step back. The distance between them was close enough to feel each other's warmth. "Selene inherited that weakness from my mother's blood that runs through her veins."
Kael extinguished the fire blade. "You let her bite you on purpose."
"The only way to ensure that a part of me can always hurt her." Akaren lifted the collar of his gown, revealing a blue chain-shaped tattoo over the bite mark. "Blood bonds work both ways."
Suddenly, footsteps echoed from the staircase. Himato appeared, looking paler than usual. "Yohelkiel just checked the guest list. They know there's will be an intruder."
Akaren cursed in an ancient language. "The plan has changed. Kael, you have to enter as a servant."
"Impossible," Himato objected. "His face is too well-known after the market battle last night."
Kael looked at the mirror on the wall—the scar on his cheek, the sharp gaze that was too intense for a servant. Then, his eyes shifted to Akaren.
"There's another way," he said slowly.
In a closed dressing room, Kael stood wearing only black trousers while Akaren applied a special salve to his back. The liquid felt like hundreds of ants crawling on his skin.
"This tanning potion will last for six hours," Akaren explained as her hands skillfully applied specific patterns. "It alters skin pigmentation, covers scars, and even slightly changes facial structure."
Kael suppressed a hiss as the potion took effect. "You do this often?"
"First time." Akaren's voice was too casual. "I'm usually the one who needs disguises."
When Kael turned, Akaren was already holding a blond wig—the exact hair color of the Drakthar family.
"The real Baron Drakthar is sailing to the east," she whispered while attaching the wig with a special adhesive. "But his guards remain in the city."
Kael caught Akaren's wrist. "You're gambling our lives on a coincidence?"
Akaren did not answer. Instead, he picked up a locket from the table beside him—a pendant containing a miniature portrait of the real Baron. "We don't need to be perfect. Just convincing enough to get through the door."
She fastened the necklace around Kael's neck, his fingers deliberately slowing as they brushed against the now sun-kissed skin. "One last thing."
From the pocket of her gown, Akaren took out a pair of purple contact lenses—the signature eye color of eastern nobility. "This will hurt."
The insertion process was more painful than Kael had expected. When he finally opened his eyes, the world was cloaked in a violet haze.
"Perfect," Akaren whispered, her hand absentmindedly brushing Kael's cheek. In those purple eyes, Kael saw a new reflection—a foreign noble with a sharper jawline, darker skin, and an entirely different aura.
Suddenly, the church bells tolled eight times.
3 Hours Until the Banquet...
In the carriage en route to Lord Varess's estate, Kael and Akaren sat across from each other. Outside, the city lights flickered like embers in the darkness.
"There's something you haven't told me," Kael said suddenly. "About how exactly we're going to face Selene."
Akaren stared at her gloved hands. "You're right."
With slow movements, she unbuttoned her right cuff, revealing a series of crescent-shaped scars—marks of an ancient ritual.
"Every full moon, Selene and I feel the same pain through this blood bond." He took a breath. "But tonight, I will amplify that connection a hundredfold."
Kael understood immediately. "You'll use yourself as bait. Drawing all of her pain into you."
"Giving you approximately three minutes while she's paralyzed." Akaren re-buttoned Kael's sleeve. "Enough time for you to reach Alamen."
The carriage slowed. In the distance, the gates of Varess's estate loomed, guarded by dozens of armed soldiers.
Akaren suddenly reached for Kael's hand. "If, once we're inside... if I ask you to kill me—"
"That won't happen," Kael interrupted, his voice rougher than he intended.
Their eyes locked. Behind the violet lenses, Kael saw something that made his blood freeze—Akaren had been planning his own death from the start.
The carriage jolted to a stop. Time was up.
Akaren tightened her grip for a fraction of a second before letting go. "Remember, Baron Drakthar," She said with a flawless, saccharine smile, her voice suddenly light and sweet. "We're here for wine business, not politics."
The carriage door opened. The dazzling glow of crystal lamps was blinding. From within the estate, the laughter and music of the nobles flowed like a poisoned river.
Kael exhaled, adjusting his posture to be more relaxed, more arrogant—just like a true noble.
"Of course, my dear," he replied with a perfect eastern accent, offering his hand to help Akaren down.
Beyond the gates, among the crowd of servants, he spotted Yohelkiel standing with the guest list in hand. The vampire sniffed the air like a wolf scenting blood.
THE GAME BEGINS…