The night was heavy with silence, only interrupted by the faint hum of the city lights outside the dormitory. Shunji Akazu sat at his desk, his nose buried in a novel, as the echoes of his roommate Yuma’s chatter faded into the background.
“Hey, Akazu, do you ever stop reading?” Yuma’s voice cut through the stillness, a mix of jest and genuine curiosity.
“Do you ever stop talking?” Shunji countered, not lifting his gaze from the book.
Yuma laughed, grabbing a soccer ball from the corner of the room. “I’m heading out to meet the guys. Try not to get lost in those pages.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Shunji muttered, flipping a page. His interest was not in the world outside but in the labyrinth of stories contained within ink and paper.
That was, until tonight.
As Yuma’s departure left the room eerily quiet, Shunji’s focus wavered. Something felt... off. A faint, rhythmic tapping caught his attention. It wasn’t coming from the usual sources—the pipes, the creaks of the old building. It was deliberate. Human.
He turned toward the window. There, bathed in the pale glow of the moon, was a girl. Her golden hair shimmered like liquid sunlight, and her piercing blue eyes locked onto his. She was dressed in a black gown, her bare feet resting delicately on the cold metal of the fire escape.
Shunji’s heart leaped into his throat. “Who—who are you? And why are you standing outside my window?”
The girl tilted her head slightly, as though analyzing him. Then, with a voice both commanding and melodic, she replied, “Shunji Akazu. I’ve come to meet you.”
“How do you know my name?” Shunji demanded, standing abruptly. He stepped back, unsure if he was imagining this ethereal figure.
The girl sighed, as if she had anticipated his reaction. “I am Kasteria Glenveldt,” she declared. “And you, Shunji Akazu, are in grave danger.”
Danger? The word sent a shiver down his spine. But before he could respond, Kasteria extended a hand toward him.
“You must trust me,” she said, her tone firm. “Your life depends on it.”
