Gesshoku shot Masaru a death glare before walking off to his seat. The rest of the class exchanged curious glances, wondering what their teacher wanted to discuss. Their lessons had ended just a few minutes ago—so why call for a last-minute announcement?
Mugen strode to the center of the room, clearing his throat.
"Ahem!" He adjusted his glasses, his usual carefree expression replaced with a rare seriousness. "I'm sure you're all aware of the recent surge in crime across Shinjuku—kidnappings, murders... things are getting dangerous. I strongly advise you to be at home by six at the latest. It's currently five, so you still have time. It would be a shame if I lost any of my precious students."
His tone was light, but there was a clear weight behind his words.
With that, he left the classroom, clearly eager to head home himself. The students, on the other hand, began gathering their things, some chatting nervously about the announcement.
Masaru, however, remained in his seat, flipping through the pages of his book. Even when the classroom emptied out, he took his time. It wasn't until 5:30 PM that he finally decided to leave—not for home, but for his part-time job at a small restaurant.
The teacher's warning was valid, but skipping work over some silly rumors? That wasn't happening. Even though the news reported these incidents in gruesome detail, the whole thing sounded too absurd to believe.
"Victims found drained of blood... bite wounds on their necks... "
The moment the media started whispering vampires, Masaru lost interest. It was the 21st century—pranks and urban legends like that were just ridiculous.
---
Shinjuku - 6:00 PM
Masaru pushed open the restaurant door, greeted by the faint aroma of grilled meat and spices. He quickly changed into his uniform, tying his apron as he greeted his boss.
Lately, business had been slow. Customers barely trickled in, and Masaru could already see the frown on Mr. Isagi's face.
"Welcome," he greeted the handful of people still dining. He went about his usual tasks—taking orders, cleaning tables, and serving dishes. Hours passed, and by 8:00 PM, the place was practically a ghost town.
Masaru sighed, stretching his arms. Just two customers left...
His boss, on the other hand, looked far more troubled than usual.
"Mr. Isagi, is something wrong?" Masaru asked, noticing the older man scrubbing a plate with more force than necessary.
Mr. Isagi let out a deep sigh, finally setting the plate down. He looked Masaru in the eyes, forcing a small smile.
"If things continue like this, I might have to close up. The situation in the city is getting too complicated."
Masaru blinked in confusion. Close up? It wasn't like the restaurant paid rent—Mr. Isagi owned the building.
"Don't get me wrong—I'm not selling the place," Isagi continued. "But I have my reasons for stepping away. If you want, I could hand it over to you."
Masaru let out a dry chuckle. "I hope it doesn't come to that. You sound like you've already given up."
Running a business wasn't something he could handle. He was barely making enough to get by—taking on an entire restaurant? Out of the question.
Mr. Isagi chuckled, ruffling Masaru's hair. "Why don't you take a day off tomorrow? You're a good kid, and I'd hate for something to happen to you because of me. Don't worry—you'll still get paid."
Masaru shrugged, pulling off his apron. "If you say so. Take care, old man."
Despite working under him, Masaru never saw Mr. Isagi as just a boss. Outside of work, he was simply the old man.
As Masaru exited the restaurant, Mr. Isagi watched him go, his expression darkening.
"It'd be a shame if that kid got caught up in all this mess..."
---
Shinjuku - 8:00 PM
Masaru hurried down the streets, shoving his hands into his pockets. He wasn't scared—just in a hurry. His favorite TV show had already started.
As he passed a small vintage store, his gaze landed on a simple hoodie displayed outside. Nothing fancy, but not shabby either. Considering how cold the nights had been lately, it was exactly what he needed.
After purchasing it, he slipped it on and continued walking.
The streets were quieter than usual. The already-dim streetlights barely illuminated the sidewalks.
"Looks like people are really taking this too seriously," he muttered.
Then he heard it.
A voice—no, two voices.
"What perfect timing."
"No, stop!"
Before he could react, a searing pain shot through his neck—like fangs sinking deep into his flesh.
---
20 Seconds Earlier
"How can a Fallen be this powerful? Who could have been its master?"
A young woman with platinum-white hair darted through the dark alleyways, chasing after a shadowy figure. Her crimson eyes burned with frustration.
"Damn it! If I hadn't underestimated it, I would've finished it already!"
The shadow ahead sneered.
"No need to waste time. Oh, look—a human. Perfect timing."
With a sudden burst of speed, the figure lunged toward its unsuspecting target.
Masaru.
The woman's eyes widened.
"That scent... isn't that Masaru?"
"No, don't—!"
But before she could intervene, the figure sank its fangs into his neck.
---
A Few Hours Later...