The city of Kurotsuki never truly slept.
Even at midnight, neon lights trembled against rain-slick streets, bleeding red and violet into the puddles like wounded stars. Sirens wailed somewhere far away, muted by distance, while the low hum of electricity crawled through the air like a living thing. To most people, it was just another night in another broken city.
To Aira Kurohana, it felt like the world was holding its breath.
She stood beneath the flickering streetlamp at the edge of the old district, her black umbrella tilted against the rain. Cold mist kissed her cheeks, threading into her dark hair and soaking the hem of her coat. The hour was wrong. The silence between passing cars was wrong. And the ache in her chest, tight, insistent was wrongest of all.
Aira pressed a hand over her heart, as if that could still the feeling.
It's nothing, she told herself. Just exhaustion.
She had been telling herself that lie for months.
Ever since the night her mother died.
The memory came unbidden, as it always did, blood staining white hospital sheets, the scent of antiseptic choking her lungs, her mother's fingers trembling as they slipped from Aira's grasp.
Stay away from the shadows, her mother had whispered, eyes dull with fear and something far heavier. If you ever feel them calling… run.
Aira swallowed hard and forced her gaze away from the memory. The rain grew heavier, drumming against metal and concrete, as though the city itself was restless.
She glanced at her phone. 12:47 a.m.
Too late to be out. Too late to feel safe.
And yet, something had pulled her here.
The old district lay abandoned, swallowed by time and neglect. Buildings leaned toward one another like conspirators, their windows dark and hollow. The air felt heavier here, saturated with something unseen, something watching.
Aira took a step forward.
Her boots echoed too loudly against the pavement.
Turn back.
The thought surfaced sharp and sudden, raising goosebumps along her arms. She hesitated, fingers tightening around the umbrella handle. Her instincts screamed at her to leave, to retreat into the bright, noisy parts of the city where danger wore familiar faces.
But beneath the fear, there was something else.
Curiosity.
Longing.
As if a thread had been wrapped around her heart and was being pulled, slow and deliberate, deeper into the shadows.
She exhaled and moved forward.
That was when she felt it.
A presence.
Not the vague unease she had grown accustomed to, but something tangible, dense and coiled, like a storm waiting to break. The air shifted. The rain seemed to soften, muffled, as though reality itself had thinned.
Aira stopped.
Her breath fogged in front of her, despite the mild night.
"Hello?" Her voice sounded too small.
No answer.
Then, footsteps.
They were unhurried, deliberate, emerging from the narrow alley ahead. Aira's heart slammed against her ribs. She took a step back, pulse roaring in her ears.
From the darkness, a figure stepped into the glow of the streetlamp.
He was tall, dressed in black from head to toe, his long coat clinging to his frame like a second skin. Rain slid off him as though it dared not linger. His hair, dark as midnight ink, fell in loose strands around a face carved with sharp lines and dangerous beauty.
But it was his eyes that froze her in place.
Deep crimson.
Not bright, not glowing, just dark, unsettling red, like dried blood under moonlight.
They locked onto hers.
Time fractured.
Aira felt as though she had fallen into those eyes, drowning in their depth. Her fear spiked, sharp and electric, yet her feet refused to move. Every instinct told her to run. Every heartbeat told her to stay.
The man studied her in silence, his gaze unreadable.
"You shouldn't be here," he said at last.
His voice was low, smooth, threaded with something ancient and weary. It sent a shiver down her spine.
"I, I was just passing through," Aira replied, hating how unsteady she sounded.
A lie. And they both knew it.
A faint smile tugged at his lips, humorless and cold. "People don't wander into Kurotsuki's shadow district by accident."
Her throat tightened. "Who are you?"
For a moment, something flickered across his face—pain, perhaps, or regret. Then it vanished, buried beneath practiced indifference.
"No one you should know."
He turned away, as though the encounter was already over.
Panic flared.
"Wait!" The word escaped her before she could stop herself.
He paused, shoulders stiffening.
Aira's heart pounded as she searched for an explanation she didn't have. "I… I felt something. Like I was supposed to come here."
Silence stretched between them.
Slowly, he turned back.
The streetlamp flickered, casting his face in shadow and light, making him look unreal—half man, half nightmare. His eyes narrowed, searching her face with unsettling intensity.
"That's impossible," he murmured.
"Why?"
Because if it wasn't impossible, then everything her mother had warned her about was real.
The man took a step closer.
Aira's breath hitched.
Up close, she noticed details she hadn't before, the faint scar along his jaw, the tension held tight in his posture, the way the shadows clung to him as though drawn by gravity.
"You don't feel it?" he asked quietly.
"Feel what?"
He studied her for a long moment, then cursed under his breath. "Damn it."
Before she could react, he reached out and grabbed her wrist.
The world exploded.
Heat surged through her veins, sharp and intoxicating. Images flashed behind her eyes, crimson moons, shattered cathedrals, chains soaked in blood, a man screaming her name in a voice twisted with agony.
Aira gasped, knees buckling.
The man caught her, pulling her against his chest.
For one terrifying second, she felt his heart beneath her palm.
It wasn't beating.
She shoved away from him, stumbling back. "What did you do to me?!"
His expression had changed. The indifference was gone, replaced by something raw and dangerous.
"Nothing," he said. "The bond reacted on its own."
"Bond?" Her voice cracked. "What bond?"
He stared at her like she was a puzzle he had hoped never to solve. "You really don't know."
The rain intensified, pouring harder, as though the sky itself sensed the shift.
"My name is Raven Noctis," he said at last. "And if you value your life, you'll forget this night ever happened."
Aira laughed shakily. "You think I can forget that?"
She gestured helplessly between them.
Raven's jaw tightened. "If you stay near me, you will die."
"Then why did you touch me?"
The question struck something deep. Pain flickered across his face, swift and unguarded.
"Because," he said softly, "it's already too late."
A distant roar echoed through the district, low, inhuman.
Raven's head snapped up. His eyes darkened.
"They've sensed you."
Fear wrapped icy fingers around Aira's heart. "Who?"
He stepped back, shadows curling around him like living things. "Run, Aira Kurohana. Run home. Lock your doors. And pray the shadows don't follow."
"How do you know my name?" she demanded.
But Raven was already retreating into the darkness, his form dissolving into the night like smoke.
"Aira," his voice whispered, carried by the rain, "don't come looking for me."
The streetlamp flickered violently, then went dark.
Aira stood alone, rain soaking her to the bone, heart racing, mind spinning.
Her wrist burned where he had touched her.
Above her, the moon slipped from behind the clouds, red as blood.
And deep within her chest, something ancient stirred, answering the call of the shadows.