chapter 3

The halls had become a tunnel of breathless dread, stretching long and narrow like the throat of some ancient beast. Each step Caio took echoed with uncanny rhythm, like the beat of a war drum in reverse—slow, patient, mocking. The stone beneath his feet seemed to whisper secrets from a thousand years ago, and the flickering sconces along the walls cast dancing shapes that twisted into monstrous silhouettes. They weren’t alone.

Ryuu felt it. The way shadows clung to the corridors like parasites, like they had been waiting for his return—for his punishment. His half-lidded eyes wandered, dragged against his will, locking with a figure that emerged like a phantom from a crack in the wall.

She was not human.

Pale as bone ash, with irises the deep gleam of polished rubies, the woman’s body swayed as though water ran through her instead of blood. Her gaze was empty, yet it saw them. Saw him. She moved slowly, a half-dead thing, or maybe something that had never truly lived to begin with. One of Kaito’s experiments. Ryuu didn’t know what she was anymore, only that she was a memory made flesh—a scar from Kaito’s old life that walked the halls as a reminder.

Kaito had been a doctor. At thirteen.

A child surgeon raised beneath a tyrant’s gaze, molded by necessity and survival. His father had taught him how to carve flesh and silence screams with the same detached elegance. And Kaito—he had hated it. Every minute of it. But when the tides changed and Yagami’s rise gave him power, Kaito took that knowledge and twisted it back toward those who had controlled him.

And yet, some shadows had clung to Ryuu too. Ryuu, the boy who had been his patient, his project… perhaps more.

A sharp twinge in his wing cut off his spiraling thoughts.

He blinked. Pain was familiar—like an old enemy pulling him out of a dream. It seared at the edge of his shoulder blade, a spark that refused to die down. Warmth followed. Not soothing warmth, but the kind that comes with blood and old memories. Breathing became difficult—shallow, fragmented—as the ache pressed against his ribs. Still, Ryuu forced his eyes open. He had to stay awake. Weakness wasn’t allowed. Not here. Not now.

Even cradled against Kaito’s chest like something precious, he couldn’t relax. Wouldn’t.

But Kaito’s voice—it melted into his ear like honey laced with venom.

“You’re drooling.”

Ryuu stiffened.

Fingers slid along the sensitive arch of his wing—trailing upward with deliberate slowness, smearing the heat that clung there. The touch wasn’t cruel, but it wasn’t innocent either. It was the same way a serpent curls around something warm and fragile, not yet sure if it wants to keep it or crush it.

“You’re terrible at hiding things,” Kaito murmured, voice a low murmur of breath and wickedness. “Especially with these wings. It’s almost like I’m rubbing your—”

He didn’t finish.

The smirk, however, told the story.

It curled the corner of his mouth with infuriating ease, predatory and amused. That familiar blend of mockery and affection, where Ryuu could never tell if Kaito was trying to make him laugh or break him. The kind of smile worn by someone who knows exactly where it hurts, and presses anyway—because even pain has its uses.

Ryuu’s heart twisted in his chest.

Is this what I am to him? A pet? A project? A collection of injuries waiting to be studied?

Or something more?

Their history was deep, etched in bruises and healing salves. He’d known Kaito since the moment he was old enough to remember, and in that lifetime of memories, the lines had always blurred between cruelty and care. It wasn’t clear whether Kaito had raised him or ruined him, but either way… he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Then, without warning, Kaito’s hand moved.

It covered Ryuu’s mouth. Not harsh, not forceful—just… firm. Silencing.

The roughness of his palm scraped against Ryuu’s lips, a patchwork of old callouses and healing wounds. These were the hands that had wielded a scythe through blood-soaked battlefields, but also the ones that had steadied him, bandaged him, held him.

“Sorry,” Ryuu whispered, muffled.

The apology didn’t make sense, but it slipped out anyway, raw and trembling.

Kaito stared at him, eyes unreadable. For a heartbeat, he didn’t move.

Then his hand pulled away like a tide receding from shore—slow, inevitable, gone.

They turned a corner.

The air shifted.

A vine-like plant stretched along the archway, strange and unfamiliar. It pulsed faintly as they passed, as though aware. A crimson carpet unraveled before them, rich and plush, leading toward a monstrous door of dark oak. Intricate carvings wove around it—serpents and roses knotted together in a macabre embrace. The golden handles gleamed like the points of a crown, twisted in regal anticipation.

Ryuu swallowed.

“Where… are we?” he asked, the words scraping from his throat.

His fists clenched tight enough to draw blood. The fear in his chest wasn’t loud—but deep. Silent dread. Ancient dread. His body knew before his mind. Knew that danger pulsed on the other side of that door.

Kiryūzan. A place of execution, of pain dressed in ceremony.

Was this it? Was this how they planned to end him?

His mind raced. Broken wings. No escape. No plan. No strength. He was a lamb with no legs, laid at the altar. A rabbit in the snare.

His breath faltered.

Panic slithered into his lungs, slow and cold.

Kaito’s hand tightened on the golden handle—not urgently, but like someone choosing whether to speak or strike. The door did not open.

Ryuu watched, heart thudding.

And then—

Softness.

Unexpected.

Kaito’s lips pressed to his.

Warm. Steady. Unapologetic.

There was no force in it, no dominance. Just silence. A kind of stillness Ryuu hadn’t known Kaito possessed. It tasted like salt and fire. Like memories of sleepless nights and too many unspoken things.

Ryuu didn’t kiss back—but he didn’t pull away either.

He froze, lost somewhere between defiance and surrender.

When Kaito pulled back, their foreheads almost touched. The silence wrapped around them like velvet. No words were spoken.

None were needed.

The door creaked open.

And the light inside was blinding

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