Akitsu Shouga opened his eyes.

  The ethereal void greeted him once more.

  There was no sky, no ground—only an endless, swallowing darkness that felt neither warm nor cold. He stood on a small red island, no wider than a village square, suspended in nothingness. At its center bloomed a single cherry blossom tree, its bark dark and twisted, its leaves a deep, bloodlike crimson.

  Around the island, black water stretched infinitely in every direction.

  Drifting on that water were twenty red cherry blossom petals, each one slowly rotating as if caught in an invisible current. Floating slightly above the surface—unnatural, weightless—were red doors. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. Their frames were different, some carved with symbols, others cracked or half-rotted, yet all shared the same color.

  Red.

  Akitsu exhaled slowly.

  “…So I’m back here.”

  He wasn’t surprised. He had been here too many times to panic now.

  He stepped forward, boots crunching lightly against the red soil, and was about to approach the tree when—

  “You look calmer than last time.”

  The voice came from the right.

  Akitsu froze.

  His hand instinctively went to where his weapon should have been, even though he knew it wouldn’t be there. He turned sharply.

  Someone was sitting at the edge of the island.

  The figure looked humanoid, but wrong in ways that made Akitsu’s skin crawl. He had the shape of a man—long limbs, relaxed posture—but his shadow bent at odd angles, stretching and twisting as if it had a will of its own. His skin was a muted gray, marked faintly with cracks that glowed red from within, like embers beneath stone.

  He wore human clothing.

  A loose black coat, worn and torn at the edges. A white shirt beneath it, stained as if by old blood. Simple trousers and boots. His hair was black, shoulder-length, tied loosely at the back.

  Two curved horns rose subtly from his temples, small enough to be mistaken for ornaments at first glance.

  His eyes were the worst part.

  They were Akitsu’s eyes.

  Same shape. Same color. Same emptiness.

  “…You weren’t here before,” Akitsu said quietly.

  The figure smiled.

  “No,” he replied. “You just weren’t ready to see me.”

  Akitsu took a cautious step back. “Who are you?”

  The figure leaned back on his hands, gazing at the cherry blossom tree. “That’s the first thing you ask every time.”

  Akitsu’s voice sharpened. “Answer me.”

  The figure chuckled. “Impatient. You really haven’t changed.”

  Akitsu clenched his fists. “Who. Are. You.”

  The figure turned his head, finally meeting Akitsu’s gaze fully.

  “I am the living hatred of your soul.”

  Silence fell.

  The petals on the black water drifted slowly. The doors creaked faintly, as if breathing.

  “…What?” Akitsu said.

  “You heard me.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Akitsu snapped. “If you’re going to speak, speak clearly. Who are you?”

  The figure stood.

  When he rose, the air felt heavier, like pressure building before a storm. He took a step toward Akitsu, boots stopping just short of the island’s edge.

  “My name,” he said, “is something you shouldn’t know yet.”

  Akitsu scowled. “Then why are you here?”

  “To talk.”

  “I don’t listen to people I don’t know.”

  The figure laughed—soft, amused, almost fond. “That’s ironic, coming from someone who keeps walking through doors he doesn’t understand.”

  Akitsu’s jaw tightened. “If you’re not going to explain, I’m leaving.”

  “Go ahead,” the figure said. “But you’ll hear this eventually.”

  Akitsu paused.

  “…Hear what?”

  The figure’s smile faded. His voice lowered.

  “There will be many things ahead. Things worse than dying.”

  Akitsu felt his chest tighten.

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  The figure continued, “And when the time comes, you must trust Kaito Morikawa.”

  Akitsu’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Trust him.”

  “Why?” Akitsu demanded. “Why should I trust someone I don’t even know?”

  The figure stepped closer. The cracks in his skin glowed brighter.

  “Because,” he said, “he will give you the results you want.”

  Akitsu swallowed. “Results…?”

  “And because,” the figure added softly, “it brings me joy watching you die. Over and over again.”

  Akitsu’s breath hitched. “What…?”

  “To see you suffer,” the figure continued, his smile returning, sharper now. “To see how far you can crawl before you break.”

  Akitsu staggered back a step. “What are you?”

  “I told you,” the demon said. “I am the manifestation of the hatred buried inside your soul.”

  Akitsu stared at him, heart pounding. “…Then what can you do?”

  The demon tilted his head. “Power?”

  “Yes,” Akitsu said. “What’s your power?”

  “I can conjure spirits,” the demon replied. “Or lure them. Bind them. Convince them to become something more… or less.”

  Akitsu’s thoughts raced. “…Then why am I not dead?”

  The demon frowned slightly. “That… I don’t know.”

  Akitsu’s voice trembled. “I’ve died so many times.”

  “I know.”

  “Why am I still here?”

  The demon looked away, toward the doors. “I don’t know why you persist. But I can sense the pathways that lead forward.”

  Akitsu’s heart skipped. “Which way?”

  The demon turned back. “That knowledge comes at a price.”

  Akitsu’s shoulders tensed. “What price?”

  “Your soul.”

  Akitsu let out a shaky breath. “Half of my soul is with Seraphine Orion.”

  The demon shook his head. “Incorrect.”

  Akitsu blinked. “What?”

  “Half of your soul is bound to her,” the demon said calmly. “But it is not gone.”

  He stepped closer, looming. “I can still take all of it.”

  Akitsu’s hands trembled.

  “…What’s in it for you?” he asked quietly.

  The demon’s grin widened. “You will die less.”

  Akitsu swallowed.

  “And survive more.”

  Akitsu looked at the black water. The doors. The petals.

  “…What about home?” he asked. “How do I go back?”

  The demon said nothing.

  That silence was answer enough.

  Akitsu closed his eyes.

  “…I see.”

  He stepped past the demon and walked into the black water.

  It didn’t ripple.

  He approached a red door and placed his hand on the handle.

  Behind him, the demon spoke.

  “Good luck,” he said. “You’ll need it.”

  Akitsu didn’t look back.

  He opened the door.

  The world fell into silence.

  Akitsu gasped and opened his eyes.

  Sunlight filtered through leaves.

  He was standing beside a crystal-clear lake.

  “No—!”

  He saw Kael Ardent running toward the water.

  “Kael!” Akitsu shouted.

  “What—?”

  Akitsu sprinted and kicked Kael hard in the stomach.

  “Oof—!”

  Kael crashed to the ground, wheezing. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

  Akitsu grabbed a leaf and tossed it into the lake.

  It sank instantly.

  Kael stared. “…That’s not normal.”

  “…Pack up,” Akitsu said. “We’re leaving.”

  Seraphine frowned. “Akitsu. How did you—?”

  Akitsu didn’t answer.

  They left.

  Later, they reached a field of collapsed ruins and bones.

  “…What happened here?” Kael whispered.

  “I don’t know,” Akitsu said.

  They found a shrine.

  Akitsu froze.

  “…I can read this.”

  Kael turned sharply. “You can?”

  Akitsu read aloud.

  “‘You’re not the only one alive. There are countless more who were here.’”

  The air grew cold.

  He swallowed.

  “‘This place is hell. I want to go back.’”

  Silence.

  Seraphine’s voice was low. “…Akitsu.”

  The wind howled.