October 1st, 3027.
A space far away from Earth.
On other planet where humans have settled in due time.
Autumn had just begun to breathe across Noctyra, brushing the night with a faint chill that slipped between steel towers and neon veins of light.
At exactly 9:00 PM, the towering silhouette of Jin Corporation stood like a dark monarch over the city of Itwatsuki.
Its glass exterior reflected a thousand colors, flickering holograms, drifting traffic lanes, and the quiet hum of a world far ahead of its time.
Hovering vehicles glided like distant fireflies, their lights blinking softly as they moved through invisible highways carved into the air.
On the 13th floor, behind a wall of polished glass and silence, stood a boy who had already outgrown the word boy.
Jin Kurotsuki.
Age: 19.
Tall, composed, wrapped in a long, luxurious black coat that fell sharply past his knees, paired with fitted black pants that matched the quiet authority in his stance.
His reflection stretched across the floor-to-ceiling mirror before him, a perfect twin made of glass and shadows.
His eyes, sharp and calculating, held something deeper than ambition.
Something quieter.
Something that watched more than it spoke.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then, slowly, he folded his arms.
His gaze shifted past his reflection… and out toward the city.
Itwatsuki spread endlessly beneath him.
Towers layered over towers, neon bleeding into the night sky, holographic signs drifting like ghosts between buildings.
The world moved.
Lived.
Breathed.
But his thoughts stood still.
“…Five years ago… he died.”
His voice was low.
Controlled.
Almost emotionless.
No witnesses.
No traces.
No explanation.
Just… gone.
Jin’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Natsumi… even with your help… nothing.”
The name lingered in the air for a second.
A memory.
A connection.
A thread that refused to break.
A police officer.
His childhood friend.
The only person who stood beside him in this search.
And yet—
Nothing.
Jin exhaled quietly through his nose, turning away from the mirror.
His coat shifted with him like a shadow following its master as he walked deeper into the room.
The bedroom was vast.
Minimalist.
Expensive without trying to prove it.
A king-sized bed rested at the center, its headboard aligned perfectly against the wall, everything placed with calculated precision.
He sat down slowly.
No wasted movement.
No unnecessary sound.
Reaching to the side table, he picked up a stack of files.
The edges slightly worn.
Used.
Revisited.
Studied too many times.
He opened the first one.
“April 15th, 3027…”
His eyes moved across the page.
“A woman’s body found near Valhen Park… time of discovery… approximately 8:20 PM… cause of death unknown…”
A pause.
“…One hour later… the body disappeared.”
Jin’s fingers tightened slightly against the paper.
“No evidence. No witnesses. No trace.”
He flipped the page.
“December 12th, 3026… a man found hanging from a tree.”
His gaze didn’t waver.
“Before rescue arrived…”
A faint crease formed between his brows.
“…the body vanished.”
Another page turned.
“September 11th, 3026… female, college student… found dead inside a restroom…”
Silence filled the room like a thick fog.
“She was transported to the hospital…”
A small pause.
“…and disappeared the next day.”
The file lowered slightly.
Jin leaned back just enough, his expression darkening—not in anger, but in thought.
“Tch…”
A quiet sound escaped him.
“Every death…”
His eyes drifted toward the window again.
“…and then vanishing.”
The city lights flickered in his pupils.
“This isn’t normal.”
He placed the files aside with controlled care, resting his elbows on his knees, fingers loosely interlocked as he leaned forward slightly.
Something was wrong.
Not coincidence.
Not random.
Connected.
It had to be.
And yet—
He exhaled again, slower this time.
His gaze softened… just barely.
“…Father’s grave is still there.”
A quiet contradiction.
“If he disappeared like them…”
His jaw tightened.
“…then why is he buried?”
The thought lingered.
Pressed.
Unanswered.
Then, slowly, his fingers curled.
“I will find him.”
A whisper.
But not weak.
“I’ll find whoever did this…”
His teeth clenched slightly.
“…and I’ll make them pay.”
The words settled into the room like a vow carved into stone.
And then—
Click.
The door opened gently.
Jin didn’t turn immediately.
Soft footsteps entered.
Calm.
Familiar.
Hanaka Tachibana.
She walked in quietly, her presence warm against the cold precision of the room.
Without a word, she sat beside him on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under her weight.
For a moment, she simply looked at him.
Then—
“You haven’t slept yet, Jin?”
Her voice was gentle.
Carrying both care… and quiet concern.
Jin responded without looking at her.
“I’m not tired.”
Hanaka’s eyes shifted to the table.
The files.
Open.
Scattered.
A small sigh escaped her lips.
“…You’re still looking into it.”
Jin’s silence answered for him.
She turned back to him.
“Jin… leave this.”
Her tone remained soft, but there was firmness beneath it.
“Your father’s death… it was his fate.”
A pause.
“You don’t have to find a killer that may not even exist.”
Jin’s eyes darkened slightly.
He turned his head toward her now.
“No.”
A single word.
Sharp.
Clear.
“If someone touched the Kurotsuki bloodline…”
His voice lowered.
“…they will pay.”
There was no hesitation.
No doubt.
No anger either.
Just certainty.
Hanaka watched him for a few seconds.
Then… she sighed again.
Not in frustration.
In acceptance.
She slowly stood up.
“Just sleep soon, okay?”
Her voice softened again.
“You’ve been working too much lately.”
She reached out gently, brushing a hand over his shoulder for a brief moment—light, almost fleeting—before turning away.
Her footsteps moved toward the door.
She paused there for a second.
Then left.
The door closed quietly behind her.
Outside, in the dim corridor, Hanaka walked slowly toward her room, right beside Jin’s.
Her expression had changed.
Not worry.
Something deeper.
Something hidden.
Her hand rested on the door handle.
“One day…”
She murmured softly.
“…it will come.”
The words carried a strange weight.
Like a truth waiting for its time.
She entered her room.
And closed the door.
Inside Jin’s room, silence returned.
Thicker than before.
He remained seated on the bed, unmoving… eyes fixed on nothing.
The silence in Jin’s room had just begun to settle again, stretching thin across the dim glow of the city beyond the glass—
…when it broke.
A sharp vibration cut through the stillness.
His phone.
It rested on the side table beside the bed, screen lighting up in the dark like a quiet signal.
Jin didn’t move immediately.
He remained seated at the edge of the bed, elbows resting lightly on his knees, gaze still angled toward the window.
The city reflected faintly in his eyes.
The phone rang again.
Only then did he reach for it.
A smooth motion.
No urgency.
No irritation.
He lifted it to his ear.
“Yes.”
A female voice responded instantly, precise and professional.
“Sir, an investor is here. He insists on meeting you tonight.”
Jin’s expression didn’t change.
He stood up from the bed slowly, the long black coat falling perfectly into place as he straightened.
His posture returned to that quiet authority, shoulders relaxed, eyes sharp.
“Send him in.”
He ended the call.
Without another glance at the files, Jin walked toward the far side of the room, stopping near the wide glass wall that overlooked Itwatsuki.
He stood there, slightly angled, one hand slipping into his coat pocket, the other resting loosely by his side.
Behind him, the door opened.
A man stepped in.
Mid-40s.
Expensive suit.
Slightly rushed breathing hidden behind forced composure.
Toyo.
He paused just inside the room, taking in the scale of it… and more importantly, the figure standing with his back turned.
There was a brief flicker of hesitation in his eyes.
Then he adjusted his posture.
Confidence.
Or at least, the attempt of it.
“Mr. Kurotsuki,” Toyo said, stepping forward.
“I apologize for coming this late, but I believe this matter couldn’t wait.”
Jin didn’t turn.
Didn’t greet him.
Didn’t acknowledge him beyond existence.
He simply stood there, looking out over the city, as if the man behind him was just another distant sound.
Toyo’s jaw tightened slightly.
Still, he continued, walking a few steps closer, stopping near the center of the room, a few meters behind Jin.
“Our investments into your corporation have grown significantly over the past year,” Toyo began, voice steady but carrying a subtle edge.
“However, the returns haven’t met the expectations we discussed.”
Jin remained still.
Silent.
Toyo’s fingers curled slightly at his side.
“I believe it’s only fair that the profit percentage is increased,” he added, a bit more firmly now.
“Given the scale of our contribution.”
Still nothing.
Jin’s gaze remained fixed on the city below.
Hovering lights.
Moving systems.
A world in motion.
Behind him, Toyo’s patience began to thin.
“…Mr. Kurotsuki,” he said again, this time with a sharper tone.
“I am speaking to you.”
That was the moment.
Jin’s eyes shifted slightly.
Not toward Toyo—
But just enough to acknowledge the sound.
A second passed.
Then another.
Finally… he turned his head.
Just a little.
Not fully.
His gaze slid sideways, landing on Toyo for the first time.
Cold.
Measuring.
“I won’t increase your returns…”
His voice was calm.
Flat.
A small pause followed.
Then—
His eyes sharpened.
“…but I can increase your punishment.”
The words didn’t rise.
Didn’t threaten.
They simply… landed.
And the room changed.
Silence fell instantly.
Heavy.
Toyo froze.
Not dramatically.
Not visibly shaken.
But something inside him… halted.
The confidence he walked in with cracked—just slightly.
Jin turned his gaze away again as if the moment had already ended.
Then—
He moved.
Slowly, he stepped away from the window.
Each step measured.
Controlled.
The faint sound of his shoes against the floor echoed softly as he walked past Toyo, not even sparing him a second glance.
Toyo’s body remained stiff as Jin passed beside him.
For a brief second, their distance was minimal.
Close enough to feel the presence.
Close enough to understand—
This wasn’t a negotiation.
Jin stopped near the door.
He stood there, one hand resting casually near the handle, his posture relaxed, yet carrying an invisible weight that pressed against the room itself.
“It’s getting late.”
A quiet statement.
He turned his head slightly.
Not fully.
Just enough.
“You should leave…”
A pause.
“…before the night swallows you whole.”
The words lingered.
Not loud.
But absolute.
The door opened.
The assistant stood outside, already waiting—as if she had known exactly when this would end.
“Yes, sir.”
Toyo didn’t speak.
Didn’t argue.
Didn’t demand.
He simply turned… and walked out.
Step by step.
The assistant followed, guiding him silently down the corridor.
And then—
Click.
The door closed again.
Jin remained standing near it for a moment.
Still.
Unmoving.
Then slowly… his gaze shifted back toward the window.
The city was still there.
Unchanged.
But something in the air…
Felt different.
The door had closed.
The room returned to silence.
For a few seconds, Jin remained standing near the entrance, his hand still resting loosely at his side, posture straight, presence unshaken.
The faint echo of departing footsteps outside the corridor faded into nothing.
Then, slowly—
He exhaled.
Not tired.
Just… done.
He turned away from the door and walked back into the room, his steps quieter now, the sharp edge from earlier dissolving into something more restrained.
The city still stretched beyond the glass wall, alive and distant, but his attention had shifted inward.
As he reached the side of the bed, Jin stopped.
His fingers moved to the collar of his long black coat.
A smooth motion.
He slipped it off.
The fabric fell cleanly from his shoulders, revealing the fitted black shirt beneath.
Without hesitation, he turned slightly toward the wall-mounted hanger and placed the coat onto it with careful precision—no wrinkles, no disorder.
Everything… in place.
For a moment, he stood there.
Still.
Then he moved again, stepping toward the bed.
He sat down first, the mattress dipping softly under his weight, before leaning back and stretching out fully across the king-sized surface.
One arm rested beside him, the other over his chest for a second before dropping loosely.
The same person who had just silenced a grown man with a sentence…
Now lay there in complete quiet.
No aura.
No pressure.
Just a 19-year-old in a dim room.
The contrast settled gently, like the night itself wrapping around him.
A soft glow flickered near the bedside.
His phone lit up again.
Jin’s eyes shifted toward it without moving his head.
A message.
He reached out, picked it up, and unlocked the screen.
Natsumi.
The name alone held weight.
His gaze sharpened slightly as he read:
“October 3rd. 9 PM. Main gate. There’s a case near Virex Club. Same pattern. Body vanished again.”
No extra words.
No panic.
Just information.
Just trust.
Jin stared at the message for a second longer than necessary.
Then his thumb moved.
A single reply.
“I know where it is.”
Sent.
No explanation.
None needed.
The screen dimmed.
He placed the phone back down beside him.
Silence returned once more—but this time, it felt different.
Outside, the city continued its endless rhythm.
Neon lights pulsed faintly through the curtains, shifting in soft patterns across the ceiling, across the walls… across his face.
Jin’s eyes remained open for a moment.
Focused on nothing.
Thinking—
Or maybe, finally not.
The tension in his body eased.
Just slightly.
Then slowly…
His eyelids lowered.
The sharpness in his gaze faded into stillness.
For the first time that night—
He let go.
Not of the search.
Not of the vow.
But of the weight, if only for a few hours.
The lights outside flickered gently.
The world moved on.
And in the quiet center of it—
Jin Kurotsuki slept.
Later…
October 2nd, 3027.
7:00 AM.
Morning arrived quietly over Itwatsuki, not with warmth, but with a pale, silver light filtering through layers of glass and steel.
The city never truly slept… it only dimmed.
Inside the 13th floor of Jin Corporation’s private residence—
Jin’s eyes opened.
No sudden movement.
No grogginess.
Just awareness.
He lay still for a second, staring up at the ceiling where faint traces of last night’s neon still clung like fading ghosts.
Then, without hesitation, he sat up.
The blanket shifted softly as he moved.
His feet touched the floor.
Cold.
Grounded.
He stood.
No wasted motion.
Jin walked straight toward the washroom, the door sliding open with a quiet hiss as he entered.
The sound of running water followed soon after, echoing faintly against marble and glass.
Minutes passed.
When the door opened again, he stepped out—transformed not in identity, but in presence.
A clean, sharp grey suit, tailored perfectly to his frame.
Inside, a fitted white shirt—crisp, minimal, precise.
Light grey jeans beneath, blending formality with ease.
Every detail intentional.
CEO.
Not by title.
By existence.
His hair settled neatly, still slightly damp, a few strands falling naturally across his forehead.
His expression had returned to its usual state—calm, unreadable, distant.
Jin walked toward the door of his room.
As he passed the bedside table, he picked up his phone in one smooth motion and slipped it into his pocket without breaking stride.
The door opened.
The corridor outside stretched long and quiet, lined with polished white tiles that reflected the morning light like still water.
The space was immaculate.
Too clean.
Jin stepped out.
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
He began walking.
Measured steps.
Steady pace.
His gaze forward, mind already shifting toward the day ahead.
Then—
He stopped.
Something… small.
Barely noticeable.
On the floor.
Jin’s eyes lowered slightly.
A single white feather lay against the pristine tiles.
Out of place.
Completely.
For a moment, he simply looked at it.
Then he stepped closer and bent down, his movements controlled, precise.
His fingers picked it up gently, holding it between two fingers as his gaze examined it.
Light.
Soft.
Perfectly intact.
No dust.
No damage.
As if it had just… appeared.
Jin’s eyes narrowed just slightly.
A silent calculation.
A question that didn’t fully form.
Then—
Nothing.
His expression returned to neutral.
“…Irrelevant.”
A quiet thought.
He let the feather fall.
It drifted down, landing exactly where it had been.
Forgotten.
Ignored.
Jin straightened.
Turned.
And continued walking down the corridor.
The faint sound of his steps echoed again, steady and composed, as he moved toward the living room.
Behind him—
The feather remained.
Still.
Unmoving.
Jin reached the end of the corridor.
The living space opened before him—not vast, but expansive enough to breathe.
The floor stretched in smooth white tiles, polished to a mirror-like sheen that reflected every movement, every flicker of light.
But what defined the room… wasn’t the floor.
It was the wall that wasn’t there.
Instead, a massive floor-to-ceiling glass window replaced it entirely, revealing the entirety of Itwatsuki bathed in the soft gold of early morning.
The sunlight spilled inward, unfiltered, painting long reflections across the tiles and wrapping the room in a quiet glow.
The city looked different at 7 AM.
Less aggressive.
Almost… peaceful.
Jin walked forward.
His pace unchanged.
Unaffected.
At the center of the room stood a long dining table, sleek and minimal, its surface spotless.
Several chairs lined its sides, but he moved toward one at the head, pulling it back just enough before sitting down.
Straight posture.
Calm presence.
He rested his arms lightly on the table, fingers relaxed, gaze drifting for a brief moment toward the city beyond the glass.
Then—
Soft footsteps.
From the side, connected seamlessly to the living area, the kitchen revealed itself—modern, luxurious, silent in its design.
From within it, she appeared.
Hanaka Tachibana.
She walked out carrying a plate, warm steam rising gently from it.
Freshly made pancakes, golden and soft, stacked neatly.
She approached him quietly and placed the plate down in front of him.
“Did you sleep well, Jin?”
Her voice carried that same gentle warmth.
Jin didn’t look up immediately.
He simply gave a small nod.
“Yes.”
Hanaka didn’t move away.
Instead, she remained standing beside him, her eyes lingering on his face… observing, searching for something beneath that calm surface.
Then she spoke again, softer.
“You’re still looking into it… aren’t you?”
Jin’s fingers shifted slightly on the table.
A small pause.
Then—
“Yes.”
His tone was flat.
Certain.
He finally glanced up at her.
“It’s not something you need to concern yourself with.”
There was no harshness.
But there was distance.
Hanaka’s expression softened… and then, slowly, she let out a quiet sigh.
“…I thought so.”
She reached out.
Gently.
Her hand rested on his head, fingers sliding softly into his slightly messy black hair, cradling it with a quiet, familiar affection only a mother could carry.
“Don’t go hurting yourself, okay?”
Her voice dropped to a near whisper.
For a fraction of a second—
Jin’s expression shifted.
Barely.
A subtle softening at the edges.
Almost invisible.
“No one can touch me like that.”
The response came quietly.
Not defensive.
Not arrogant.
Just… absolute.
Hanaka watched him for a moment longer.
Then she nodded.
“…Alright.”
Her hand slipped away from his hair.
“Eat. I’ll bring more.”
She turned and walked back toward the kitchen, her figure disappearing into the soft light and steel of the space.
Jin remained seated.
Still.
The room fell silent again, filled only with the distant hum of the waking city.
He reached forward.
Picked up a piece of pancake.
Took a bite.
Slow.
Controlled.
For a moment, nothing moved.
Then—
Under his breath.
So quiet it barely existed.
“Whoever tries to hurt me…”
A pause.
His eyes lowered slightly.
“…ends up begging for death.”
The sunlight continued to pour in.
The city kept moving.
And somewhere beneath the calm—
Something waited.
🌑
This world is not kind.
But neither are its stories If you’re here for perfect heroes, you might be in the wrong place.
Every chapter is a scar.
Some just bleed more beautifully And, watch closely.
The real story is never what the world sees.