Cool, filtered air drifted through the systems of the royal central library.
Between towering matte shelves, hover-ladders glided silently past. Service drones placed digital panels into their loading rails with barely audible clicks.
Above it all, a faint hum filled the air; the glowing lines of the rune network ran like veins through the walls and ceiling.
Kuroboshi, however, sat lazily slouched in a hovering chair — suspended by pressure fields.
Sunk deep into the seat — like a well-fed cat.
Elbows resting loosely on the armrests.
One ankle crossed over the other.
His chin propped thoughtfully on the back of his hand:
"How boring everything is today…" he muttered, smacking his lips as he picked the last bit of a sticky moss-pork shank from between his fangs.
Embarrassed glances flickered now and then among the servants.
But he didn't smile — why would he?
His expression barely changed.
Indifference in every detail — only the two black strands that often fell across his nose swayed gently with each breath.
"Kioto, the demon's doing well…"
His voice — deep, rumbling, almost drowsy — vibrated softly through the silence.
He didn't lift his gaze.
"Do we know yet where he even came from?"
"The unit's elite are still investigating his past…" Kioto's voice was light — remarkably calm, perfectly controlled.
Of course, he wore his white uniform — shimmering gold beneath the glow of the twin evening suns.
He stood slightly behind Kuroboshi; close enough that one could almost sense his breath in the warm air.
The king's emerald eyes slid briefly toward him — and lingered.
On the fine line of his profile.
On the vein that pulsed faintly in the light along his neck.
The G.O.L.D. robe clung to his waist, and over his heart, the emblem gleamed.
A faint haze of white tea drifted over — familiar, sweet, just as always.
The taste lingered on his tongue, making the king click it once in irritation.
"Do you bathe in perfume now?"
A hiss — barely audible, but charged.
Kioto leaned forward slightly; his silky, layered curls fell teasingly over his forehead.
His gaze — those shamelessly clear, white-blue eyes — brushed over Kuroboshi's profile.
"Actually—"
He paused — lids lowering gently, almost casually.
"—I suppose I do."
A barely perceptible smile flickered across his lips.
Silence.
For a moment, the king just stared at his advisor — before speaking again, quieter, sharper:
"What about the demon, Kioto?"
Kioto blinked.
"Probably some exiled demon from the messed-up North," he muttered with a shrug.
Then, without thinking, he leaned against Kuroboshi's chair.
"But who cares — as long as the little prince gets what he wants."
The words came out almost sarcastic, nearly disrespectful.
The hover-chair creaked under the added weight, sinking slightly.
Kuroboshi lowered his lids — his green eyes narrowing.
"Kioto…"
A warning growl vibrated in his throat.
He pressed his shoulder against the younger man — trying to push him away.
Away.
From.
His.
Chair.
Kioto ignored it.
"Did you know the Demon Realm in the North doesn't have a ruler right now?"
He let more of his weight sink playfully into the chair, as if he weren't sitting beside the king — but on him.
"Oh no, how tragic…"
Kuroboshi widened his eyes in mock alarm — only for a second — then straightened a little.
The hover-chair — groaned once more under the strain.
A few attendants giggled at the sight of the two.
Fantastic…
The king knew they were being watched.
The tabloids of Vynesalic always needed new "gossip and scandal" — and he was well aware that Kioto knew that too.
"At least Ayumi was worried," Kioto teased instead, his tone almost playful.
The king exhaled sharply through his teeth.
Then, suddenly, Kioto rested his head against Kuroboshi's shoulder — pure provocation.
His fangs flashed across his far too angelic face.
"You should take a page from her book."
"Kioto!"
Kuroboshi's glare was sharp and warning.
But Kioto only lifted the corner of his mouth — defiant, like a man who knew exactly how to play with fire.
"How long have you been king now? Seven years?"
He gestured vaguely toward the window — where the projection of the palace loomed large above the city, facing the Source Mountains.
"And you still act like a savage."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
The G.O.L.D. guards by the automatic door stood motionless — hands loose on their holsters, eyes fixed straight ahead.
Kuroboshi clicked his tongue against a fang.
"Maybe I shouldn't have taken you into my forest back then—"
His eyes narrowed.
"—should've drowned you instead."
He exhaled sharply and shoved Kioto away.
"Stand. Up." A command.
"Alright, alright."
Kioto sighed — and with a small, effortless twist, landed gracefully on his feet again.
Elegance in every motion.
The mischievous smirk remained:
"But admit it. Without me, you'd be lost."
He smoothed out his robe, rolled back his shoulders — a man fully aware of his own presence.
"Maybe that's why…" he breathed, "…because I don't perch in every other tree like some lurking predator. Isn't that right?"
"Tch—"
Kuroboshi clicked his tongue.
"You mean because my entire kingdom would rather trust a demon in Vavan fur."
He leaned back again — half amused, half provoked — by that small, angel-faced bastard — sinking lazily into the hover chair.
"I'm a Wächtervampir, not a demon," Kioto shot back. "Of all people, you should know that."
Kuroboshi arched a brow, his tone sharp and mocking.
"Oh? Is that so?"
He watched as Kioto suddenly pulled a small booklet from the inner pocket of his coat.
No display — real paper, dark as the title upon it:
Schattentinte.
"By all gods…" Kuroboshi muttered.
Because he knew what was coming next.
And he hated it.
Oh… how he hated it!
"Sit down, Kuroboshi! Brace yourself!"
Kioto struck a pose, one hand theatrically pressed to his heart, his head tilted mischievously to the side.
And then the horror began.
"From the realm escapes a nightly squeal,
the Vavan's howl, doors in sorrow, shadows spill—"
"Gods, Kioto, please!"
Kuroboshi grimaced in disgust — already picking again between his teeth.
This time, though, there was a flicker of desperation in his eyes.
"Your Vavans sound worse than a rusty gate in the Demon Realm."
Kioto didn't listen.
"—only Ophelia's kiss cools the fire,
stone upon straw, wrath expires…"
His voice sounded dreamy — as if he'd slipped into another world entirely.
There — where his words were not merely spoken, but lived.
He circled the chair once, slowly.
His robe shimmered silk-like, whispering as it moved — and swish — he slapped Kuroboshi's hand away from his teeth.
"Impossible to endure you like this! You're supposed to feel it! Listen to me!"
"You disrespectful—"
Kuroboshi spun around, his gaze sharpening — lethal, predatory.
Then something else tore through the atmosphere.
A pressure. Cold.
A faint, sterile scent of—
Disinfectant.
The guards at the door straightened at once.
Fingers slid toward safety catches, stomachs tightened, throats swallowed nervously.
Kuroboshi felt it — deep in the undertone of the world.
Someone was approaching.
Kioto's head snapped around.
"Vynrek?"
He said the name hoarsely — as if he had to spit it out.
The door slid open with a soft hiss.
A man stepped inside — as though the room had always belonged to him.
He was thin. Frail.
Greasy black hair clung to taut, grayish skin that gleamed faintly under the light.
A round pair of glasses sat too low on his nose, pushed up again with a wet squelch.
His lips gleamed; beneath them, the edges of sharklike, yellowed teeth — never fully visible.
"Your Majesty."
The voice was shrill, rasping.
His white lab coat was stained, his dark gray pants far too tight around bony thighs.
But Kuroboshi didn't need to say a word.
The guards stepped into the man's path.
But it didn't bother Vynrek.
No — not in the slightest.
He merely lifted his gaze, eyes moving without his head.
And the guards frowned — like statues of steel that had suddenly scented danger.
"I am the royal scientist. Dr. Vynrek."
His voice was sharp enough to hurt the ears.
"Who do you think you are."
The insult hung naked in the air — incomprehensible to those it was aimed at.
Kioto straightened, authority threading through his posture.
His angelic features hardened.
"Vynrek, what is this? I've already addressed this matter."
His hand kneaded the edge of his notebook almost imperceptibly.
"No. Further. Experiments."
But the scientist only looked at him for a while — as if he were an insignificant insect, lacking any real purpose.
"Resources are insufficient—" Vynrek mumbled reluctantly, blinking slowly toward the man who truly held his interest.
Kuroboshi.
"We're losing time, villages, and blood. The Hopu Syndrome in the settlements near the Fire Desert Gorge shows acute host-binding. The resistance windows are closing.
If we don't calibrate the serum to the catalase of the pure Wächter genome, we'll lose the reactive peaks."
"Be specific, Vynrek."
Kuroboshi's words — an order.
"Your blood, Your Majesty."
Vynrek took a small step forward, his coat swaying faintly.
"The bloodline in its frenzy state — the Wächterrausch — shows dissolution parameters against parasitic host proteins. The samples from the queen and the prince were…"
His voice dropped.
A whisper — as if he wanted to savor one of the names a little longer, but didn't dare.
"…not equivalent. Crossbreeds modulate. Only the pure Wächter yields results."
Kioto's jaw clenched, muscles tightening.
A finger scraped along the line of knuckles on his glove, as if forcing them into alignment.
"You defy me," he said softly — but with quiet menace.
"I forbade it."
Vynrek's gaze slid back to him — a faint, disdainful smile tugging at his lips.
"So you'd rather leave the people to themselves? Until everything goes quiet. Forever?"
"Nonsense." Kioto's voice cracked for an instant, then steadied.
"Not every disease is fatal — and you know that."
"Good." Vynrek tilted his head, as though listening to an invisible symphony.
"Then we'll just wait for the first one to die."
The library seemed to hold its breath.
Kuroboshi's eyes sharpened.
Kioto felt it — the trap within that sentence.
How Vynrek had built it on purpose, word by word.
He also felt Kuroboshi's gaze from the side —
the king staring into the mist-man's eyes as if seeing through him, as if beyond him lay something greater,
something not yet understood.
Maybe not even by himself.
"There've been so many outbreaks lately…" Kuroboshi said at last, sighing —
a dry sound from deep within his chest.
"Too many…"
Vynrek nodded.
His glasses slipped again; he pushed them back up with his thin fingers.
"Exactly."
"And I hate needles…" Kuroboshi muttered, his gaze unfocused — more to himself than to anyone else.
Then he lifted his hand… and let it fall again.
"Fine. The last time."
Kioto's head snapped to the side, horrified.
Speechless.
"Of course, Your Majesty."
Vynrek's fingers snapped once, softly.
As if the door had been waiting for that sound alone, it slid open.
Two assistants in lab coats entered — pale, masklike, carrying metal cases.
The guards didn't move, but they stepped back a pace.
Kioto, snapping out of his shock, stepped forward.
He positioned himself halfway between Vynrek and the king.
"This will have consequences," he said quietly to the mist-crawler. Too quietly.
It didn't sound like a threat.
It sounded — like a promise to himself.
"I'm aware of that, Kioto."
Vynrek tasted the name.
He let it linger on his tongue — as if drinking something both bitter and affectionate at once.
"Everything has its consequences."
Kuroboshi, meanwhile, extended his arm.
One of the assistants pushed back the cuff of his sleeve, exposing the skin beneath —
tendons and veins shimmering darkly beneath the surface.
Vynrek retrieved a slender, rune-etched tube from the case — not a simple syringe, but…
a multi-jointed needle.
As it caught the light, delicate symbols danced along its surface.
Kioto stood too close — deliberately.
"If you go too deep, I'll tear your arm off."
His voice hissed through his teeth.
But Vynrek smiled again — that same knowing, unfinished smile.
"I would never do such a thing."
The needle touched skin.
A faint hum — barely audible — as if the metal were tuning itself to flesh.
The first prick was more pressure than pain; the runes along the shaft flickered, and then came the scent of iron… and something older than blood.
Dark liquid flowed — thicker than it should — into the tube.
Kuroboshi stared at the ceiling, his eyes searching for a flaw in its perfection — a distraction.
He thought of Ayumi.
Of the corner of her mouth that sometimes twitched when she thought no one was watching.
Of Shuzo.
Of that rare smile — slipping away from him like a star that was always falling again.
And now?
Now he sat here, letting them draw his blood — so that a village wouldn't die.
He forced his fingers to be still.
Because what was a king without his people?
Vynrek watched the flow with fascination, pupils narrowed to thin slits.
"Stable…" he whispered.
"Rausch component close to the upper threshold — catalytic peaks high. If we salt the matrix, it won't tip anymore."
"You talk too much!" Kioto snapped from the side.
"And you understand too little," Vynrek shot back.
He pulled the needle free with a small jerk.
A single drop hung black in the light — heavy, as if unwilling to fall.
But it fell anyway.
Painting a dot on Kioto's glove.
And no one — noticed.
The assistant sealed the tube. Runes glowed, then faded to pale.
Vynrek took a step back — then two — without taking his eyes off Kuroboshi.
Black, empty abysses met tired emerald depths.
"If you should need me again…"
He fell silent. His fingers twitched and he smiled once more.
"Oh, what am I saying… You will need me again."
"Leave, before I change my mind." The timbre in Kuroboshi's voice dropped sharply, menacing.
"Of course…"
Vynrek turned and glided toward the door.
The guards followed him with their eyes for a few more seconds — as if they could still see him — even though he had already slipped behind the automatic panel.
The air still smelled of disinfectant — only now, something else lingered beneath it: a thin veil of fear and anger.
Kioto unclenched his fists.
The tension in the room remained.
"That was a mistake," he said coolly.
No accusation — just a statement of fact.
"Maybe…" Kuroboshi replied.
He rubbed the spot where the needle had pierced him — already beginning to close.
The runes on the needle had left almost no trace, and yet it felt as though something remained beneath the skin.
"But maybe it was necessary."
Kioto exhaled slowly — and for a brief moment, he didn't move at all.
"Kuro, you may be the king—" Kioto said at last.
"But I'm not your servant. I'm your friend. You should've left it to me."
"No." Kuroboshi suddenly looked straight at him.
And there it was again — that strange softness in his emerald eyes.
A glimmer he showed to almost no one.
"You're my irritating nuisance."
Kioto's mouth curved into a crooked grin.
"Or the devil in Vavan fur?"
The hum of the fields returned — as if the room itself had swallowed the scene.
Kuroboshi sank deeper into the chair, letting his head fall back.
The hum of the fields returned — as if the room itself had swallowed the scene.
Kuroboshi sank deeper into the chair, letting his head fall back.
The golden glow of the city's advertisements cast flickering light across his cheek.
The library breathed. So did the king.
Kioto stood still for one heartbeat longer, then stepped closer — close enough for Kuro to smell his white tea again. Soothing.
"If he's lying—" Kioto said quietly. "I'll find out."
"I know."
In the library, the door had closed behind Dr. Vynrek.
Only the hum, the lights — and the quiet realization remained: that the tube…
…had long since come to hold more than just blood.