The storm faded near dawn.
By the time Ren could move again, the city had washed itself clean — streets gleaming, signs flickering half-dead in the pale blue of early morning.
He sat against a cold wall in a narrow alley, soaked, trembling, unsure how long he'd been there. His reflection shivered in the puddles beside him, eyes faintly silver before dulling back to brown.
Everything hurt. Not just his body — him.
His chest throbbed where Kael's strike had landed, but there wasn't even a bruise. His skin was whole. Too whole. Like it had repaired itself overnight.
Ren stared at his hand. It didn't look like his own anymore. The veins were darker, his fingertips faintly gray — like the color had been drained from them.
The hunger was still there. Quiet, coiled. Waiting.
He took a slow breath and forced himself to stand. His legs were unsteady, but habit guided him home. The city was waking up — traffic starting, shutters rolling open, life pretending nothing strange had happened in the dark hours before.
Ren reached his apartment building just as the first sunbeam touched the rooftops. He climbed the stairs mechanically, every creak of the steps echoing like thunder in his head.
Inside, the small apartment was dim and quiet.
He peeled off his wet uniform jacket and dropped it onto a chair. His fingers brushed the torn edge of the sleeve — right where Kael had caught him.
The fabric was burnt.
But not from heat — from energy.
The shadows that had lashed out during the fight… had they come from him? From the "Yuno Organ" Kael mentioned?
Ren leaned over the sink, staring into the mirror.
His reflection wavered.
For a moment, he saw not his face — but the faint outline of another one, dark and flickering behind his eyes.
"What's happening to me?" he whispered.
No answer. Just silence.
He washed his face, but the water only deepened the chill in his skin. He turned away, heading toward the small living room where the morning news played on the TV — muted, captions flashing across the bottom:
"Unexplained disturbance reported in District 9. Authorities investigating possible hybrid activity."
Ren froze. That was near the alley.
He turned off the screen. The city outside looked normal again, but the word echoed in his mind — hybrid.
He had heard it before, whispered in hushed tones. Stories about people with alien cells in their blood. Monsters that looked human until they didn't.
Was that what he was?
His phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number:
"You survived. Good. Don't run from it next time."
— K.D.
Ren's stomach tightened. His throat went dry. He dropped the phone on the couch and sank to his knees.
"Kael…"
The name sounded unreal when spoken aloud, like the echo of a nightmare that refused to fade.
He sat there for a long time, breathing shallowly, until a knock broke the silence.
Ren flinched.
Then a voice — warm, familiar — drifted through the door.
"Ren? You didn't show up to club today. Everything okay?"
It was Selene, the classmate who had invited him to the Supernatural Studies Club.
He hesitated. "Y-yeah. I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine," she said softly. "Can I come in?"
Ren hesitated, then unlocked the door. Selene stood there, umbrella in hand, her hair damp from the rain. Her eyes searched his face carefully — and for a split second, her gaze sharpened, as if she sensed something.
"You look pale," she murmured. "Did something happen?"
Ren forced a shaky smile. "Just… didn't sleep much."
Selene's lips curved faintly, but her eyes didn't soften. "Be careful, Ren. There are strange things happening lately. You wouldn't want to get caught up in them."
He nodded, though a chill crawled up his spine.
When she left, Ren shut the door quietly. He stood there, breathing in the quiet air, feeling his heart pound harder with every second.
Selene's last glance lingered in his mind — not one of concern.
But recognition.
As night fell again, Ren sat by the window, watching the rain return. The world below shimmered in silver light, reflections bending and shifting in every droplet.
Inside him, the hunger stirred once more — slower now, patient. It whispered from beneath his ribs like a heartbeat not his own.
He didn't know what was coming next.
Only that his life had already crossed a line it could never uncross.
Somewhere in the city, Kael Dravenn walked beneath another neon sign, mask reflecting the glow. His voice was quiet but certain.
"He's awakening faster than expected. The Hive will notice."