7:00 AM, Year 2996.
Ron sat alone in a small café near the private hospital, absentmindedly sipping a cup of pitch-black coffee that tasted like sewer water mixed with cement.
With a caffeine concoction completely stripped of trigonelline, only a monster—or someone without functioning taste buds—could drink it voluntarily.
The city reeked of blood, rust, and corpses. Yet Ron seemed strangely at ease amidst the chaos.
"Ron!"
Hearing his name, Ron turned toward the voice.
Across the street stood a tall, handsome young man who looked as though he had stepped straight out of a romance novel.
Ron glanced at Lunas, then promptly ignored him and returned his attention to the terrible coffee he had brewed himself.
Before he could take another sip, Lunas had already pulled up a chair.
"So? You said you'd found a clue about this world."
Ron reluctantly nodded and placed five blood samples on the table.
Lunas stared at them.
"What?"
Ron rubbed his forehead.
"They belong to me, Quân, my new student, a blind girl, and two rather unusual individuals."
He deliberately emphasized the last two words.
Truthfully, not every madman looked like a monster. Most of them resembled the ghosts that wandered through low-budget horror films.
Lunas picked up one of the tubes, intending to put it away without a second thought.
Ron immediately stopped him.
"Not yet. Pour them into these cups first."
He slid several empty cups across the table.
Without questioning him, Lunas complied.
The first sample was Ron's.
The blood flowed normally into the cup. Bright red. Healthy-looking.
Nothing unusual.
And that was exactly what caught Lunas's attention.
"The blood..."
He leaned closer, borrowed Ron's spoon, and scooped up a small amount.
"It's unusually thin. The color's too good."
He narrowed his eyes.
"Ron... did you secretly get your blood filtered or something?"
Ron sighed.
"No."
He rolled up his left sleeve.
"More accurately, it's the blood from this arm."
His left arm was covered in wounds. His hand was gone entirely.
Lunas's expression immediately darkened.
He leaned forward for a closer look, but Ron lowered his sleeve before he could inspect it further.
"Forget it. Move on."
They opened the remaining tubes and poured each sample into separate cups.
Only then did Lunas notice something odd.
"Did you use anticoagulants?"
The blood flowed as smoothly as fresh blood despite having been stored for hours.
Ron shook his head.
"No."
He took another sip of coffee.
"Those samples have been sitting in test tubes for at least five hours."
His gaze drifted briefly toward the severed stump of his wrist.
"And look outside. Blood's been covering the streets all night, yet none of it has started clotting."
Lunas fell silent.
Ron stood up, one hand tucked into his coat pocket as he surveyed the city beyond the café windows.
"Whether you've reached the same conclusion as I have is another matter."
He pulled out a cigarette and exhaled slowly.
"But we're not done yet."
He tapped the cigarette against the table.
"Last night, I collected blood from two madmen in the hospital. One alive. One dead."
"The living one was A-positive."
"The dead one was O-negative."
Lunas nodded.
Then frowned.
"So what?"
Ron continued.
"I tested more survivors afterward."
"O-positive. A-positive. B-positive."
"Not a single Rh-negative blood type."
"Not even AB-positive."
"Those blood types are rare, so at first I didn't think much of it."
He paused.
"Then I started testing the dead."
Lunas's attention sharpened.
"I separated everything into three groups."
"The survivors."
"The corpses I killed inside the hospital."
"And the blood collected from the streets."
Ron took a drag from his cigarette.
"The first group contained every common blood type except O-negative and AB-positive."
"The second group was always O-negative."
"No exceptions."
"Every single corpse."
Lunas slowly sat up straighter.
"And the third group?"
Ron smiled faintly.
"One hundred percent AB-positive."
Silence.
The air between them suddenly felt much heavier.
"To make sure I wasn't making a mistake, I tested my own blood."
"And the blood from those things hanging on the walls."
He stared directly at Lunas.
"Can you guess what the results were?"
For the first time since arriving, Lunas genuinely started thinking.
"I... think—"
Ron moved.
A sharp metallic click echoed from the cigarette.
A hidden needle shot out from its tip.
STAB!
The needle plunged straight into Lunas's eye.
Before he could react, Ron drove his knee forward, forcing the needle even deeper.
"Don't answer that."
His voice turned ice-cold.
"Answer this instead."
"WHERE IS LUNAS?!"
"Talk."