In a dimly lit chamber, a man sat behind an ornate desk, a golden mask obscuring his features. His piercing gaze rested on the pink-haired woman standing before him. She held a broken mask in her hand, her expression unreadable, her stance exuding confidence with one hand resting on her hip.
"This is all that's left of Fang," she stated, her voice devoid of emotion as she casually tossed the fragment onto the desk.
A heavy silence filled the room before the masked man erupted into laughter, his amusement echoing off the walls. "So, you faced the God Hand and lived to tell the tale. You must have witnessed his power firsthand. What do you think of him?" He leaned back, crossing one leg over the other with an air of intrigue.
The woman, Vermillion, tilted her head slightly. "I can't say for certain. His power is undeniable—worthy of being ranked among calamity-level threats. But while he looked somewhat sloppy, almost as if he were holding back, I don't believe he surpasses that rank."
The masked man hummed in thought. "Even after engaging him yourself, you couldn't force him to reveal his full strength? You must have been fortunate to escape unscathed."
"You've misunderstood," she replied smoothly. "My mission wasn't to engage the God Hand in combat, merely to assist Fang in assessing his power. Fang was inexperienced, a mere junior to Mike. He died before I could intervene. With him gone, my mission was rendered void, so I left."
Her tone remained indifferent, as if discussing the weather rather than the death of a comrade.
"Coward," the masked man scoffed. "Using that as an excuse—typical of you, Vermillion. But I'm sure he wouldn't have let you leave so easily, not after forcing him to use his hands."
Vermillion rolled her eyes. "Please. In this world, no one can stop my retreat. Not even him. You should know that by now. Now, if that's all, I assume I'm free to go?"
The masked man steepled his fingers. "Not quite. I want you to keep a close eye on him while we devise a strategy to eliminate him."
Her expression turned incredulous. "Are you forgetting that the God Hand is in Shinjuku while I'm nowhere near Japan? How do you expect me to monitor him?"
"You'll relocate to Japan for the time being. It is your homeland, isn't it? I'm sure you'll be more than happy to carry out this mission."
Vermillion sighed. "Fine. I'll do it."
---
Shinjuku, Japan
[Mikazuki Mansion]
"What do you mean you don't remember what happened?" Akane's voice was sharp with frustration as she eyed the seemingly ordinary cape in Masaru's hands. It was devoid of any aura, appearing no different from a tattered piece of cloth.
Masaru, still seated on the floor, rubbed his temple. "I swear I didn't do anything stupid. You told me to bond with it, but you never explained how. So I tried different methods until I figured blood might be the key. I dropped some on the emblem, and then… I blacked out. Next thing I knew, you were here." His voice was laced with confusion. "I don't know what happened, but I sure as hell didn't do this."
Akane paced the room, her fingers massaging her temples. The gravity of the situation was undeniable. The cape was a supreme artifact of the vampire race, one of the strongest ever created. And now? Reduced to nothing more than fabric.
"Blood is a common method for bonding with artifacts, so that shouldn't have been the issue. But if you blacked out… Did you experience any visions or anything similar?" she asked, stopping to scrutinize him.
Masaru's brows furrowed as he struggled to recall. "I think I dreamed about—" A sudden, searing pain shot through his skull. "Aaargh!" His scream tore through the room as he clutched his head, his knees buckling under the agony.
Akane's eyes widened. "Masaru!"
The pain was unbearable, like something clawing at his mind, blocking him from remembering. No matter how hard he tried, the memory slipped through his grasp, replaced by unbearable torment.
Akane's lips pressed into a thin line. "If recalling it is causing you pain, then either your mind isn't strong enough to retain it, or the memory has been sealed. If it's the first, I can help stimulate the memory." She placed her hand atop his head, a crimson glow emanating from her fingertips. "I'll transfer every word I know into your mind—it might trigger whatever you forgot."
Masaru groaned as the glow seeped into him, his body tense. Five seconds passed. Then ten. But nothing happened.
Akane's frown deepened. "Then it's the second possibility… someone sealed your memories. But who? And why?" Her expression darkened as realization dawned. "The mansion… could it have been infiltrated? Why didn't I think of that sooner?"
She clenched her fists, fury brewing in her chest. "That powerful presence I felt earlier—what if it wasn't just the cape losing its power? What if someone swapped it out for a worthless imitation? What if they attacked you and sealed your memories to cover their tracks?"
The thought made her blood boil. The audacity of whoever had orchestrated this—it was too perfect. They had struck at the ideal moment, when the Mikazuki family was absent, leaving only her behind. And now, the consequences were laid bare.
Akane turned back to Masaru, her crimson eyes burning with resolve. "Whoever did this… they're going to regret it."