The clouds were spreading across the evening sky like slow-moving bruises, swallowing the last traces of daylight as the sun disappeared behind the coast. Izu was settling into its usual nightlife rhythm—voices spilling from restaurants, bicycles rattling against pavement, the distant hum of traffic drifting from the main road. The air was cooler than expected, carrying a faint sense of humidity that hinted at an approaching storm.
Behind the Grand Blue shop, the narrow back alley was unusually quiet. The smell of seawater mixed with disinfectant, and a soft rustling came from the recycling bins lined against the wall. A dim single lamp above the back door flickered intermittently, casting strips of pale light over the concrete ground.
Stevan was standing in the shadow of the building, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His breathing was calm, but only because he was forcing it to be. The curse had been stirring inside him since the afternoon, responding to the tension in the girls' dorm, to the presence of the unseen intruder, to the proximity of danger. Every heartbeat made it coil tighter.
He glanced toward the street. Chisa would arrive soon. He wasn't sure whether having her here was wise, but the decision had already been made, and he could no longer push her away without provoking more tension—and without losing control again. Her presence calmed him. That truth was undeniable.
Footsteps approached.
Chisa turned the corner, hands in her pockets, scarf wrapped loosely around her neck. She moved with purposeful strides, posture rigid and expression unreadable in the dim light. Her hair was pulled back, a few strands falling freely around her face. The lamp flickered as she stopped in front of him.
"You're early," she said.
"So are you."
"I didn't want you waiting alone." She looked around the alley, alert. "Has anything happened?"
"No."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Is it reacting?"
"It never stopped."
Chisa studied him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Then let's get this over with."
Stevan exhaled, preparing to speak—but a loud crash erupted from inside the shop, followed by a familiar shriek.
"That's my underwear!" Iori cried. "Give it back!"
Kohei yelled back, voice breaking with desperation. "I need it for cosplay reference! It's for a friend!"
Chisa closed her eyes. "I thought they were banned from touching anything belonging to… anyone."
"They don't know what 'banned' means," Stevan replied.
Another crash shook the interior walls. Someone screamed. Someone else cackled like a feral animal. Tokita's booming voice followed, triumphant and terrifying.
"WHOEVER STOLE THE BEER KEG WILL FACE PUNISHMENT!"
Chisa massaged her temples. "We're meeting behind the shop while that is happening inside?"
Stevan nodded. "It's quieter here."
"That's debatable."
Before she could continue, footsteps echoed from the opposite end of the alley. Slow ones. Light ones. Too controlled to belong to any member of the club.
Chisa straightened instantly.
Stevan tensed. The curse surged. Hard.
The figure stopped under the flickering lamplight—just far enough that their features remained hidden, but close enough to be unmistakably real. Tall. Thin. Still as a statue.
The same silhouette from the street.
Stevan stepped forward instinctively, body tightening like a drawn bowstring. The curse pushed against his ribs, sharpening his senses to unnatural precision. The sounds around him stretched, every heartbeat from his chest echoing like a drum.
The silhouette moved slightly.
Chisa whispered, "Is that them?"
"Yes."
She shifted her stance. "What do we do?"
The silhouette answered before Stevan could speak.
"Stevan."
A voice. Deep. Calm. Male.
Chisa flinched at the sound. Stevan felt the temperature of the alley drop a few degrees. The voice carried a strange resonance, as if layered with an echo that did not belong to the speaker.
The silhouette stepped forward into the faint light.
His face was partially visible—a sharp jawline, narrow eyes, hair falling loosely over his forehead. His clothes were clean, simple, unfamiliar. But the most striking detail was the mark on his neck.
A faint, glowing symbol.
Identical to Stevan's.
Chisa's eyes widened. "He's cursed too."
The man's lips curved into a hollow semblance of a smile. "Not anymore."
Stevan instinctively pushed Chisa behind him. "Stay back."
The man ignored her entirely. His eyes remained fixed on Stevan, unblinking. "You've lasted longer than expected."
"Who are you?" Stevan demanded.
"Someone who knows what you are."
Chisa reacted instantly. "If you think you're intimidating him—"
"Chisa," Stevan said sharply. "Don't intervene."
The man tilted his head. "She stabilizes you."
Chisa froze.
Stevan's muscles tightened. "How do you know that?"
The man's faint smile widened. "Because she's the only reason you haven't collapsed yet."
Stevan's jaw clenched. The curse pulsed violently at the man's presence, reacting like a trapped animal cornered by a predator. The air seemed thicker, heavier.
"Talk," Stevan said. "Now."
The man took one slow step forward.
"My name doesn't matter. But I share the same origin as you." His voice never rose, yet carried easily through the alley. "We were part of the same experiment."
Stevan stiffened. "Liar."
Chisa looked between them. "Experiment?"
The man ignored her. He continued, "We were chosen. Bound. Altered. Our bodies were modified to contain a state beyond human aggression. The curse is not supernatural. It's engineered."
Chisa whispered, "Engineered…?" She looked at Stevan, but he wasn't moving.
The man continued, "But unlike you, I embraced it."
Stevan stared at him, expression cold. "No one could control this."
"I did." His tone was absolute. "And I released myself from its restraints. To do that, I needed a successor."
The curse surged so violently that Stevan felt pain shoot through his ribs.
Chisa placed a hand on his arm instinctively.
Instant calm.
Instant clarity.
The man observed the reaction with unsettling fascination. "Remarkable. Even more compatible than I expected."
Stevan stepped forward. "What do you want?"
The man's voice dropped to a chilling softness. "I want you to replace me."
The alley fell silent.
Chisa exhaled a sharp breath. "Absolutely not."
The man raised his gaze to her. "You misunderstand. He already has."
Stevan didn't flinch, but something tightened in his jaw. The man continued walking slowly toward them, the lamplight flickering across his face.
"When I passed the curse, I severed my connection. It needed a host. It chose the only viable candidate." He gestured toward Stevan. "You."
Stevan's voice was low. "I never asked for this."
"Neither did I." The man paused two meters away. "But now that I am free, I require one last thing."
Chisa stepped forward. "Don't even say it."
The man's eyes didn't leave Stevan. "I need you to die."
Chisa lunged, but Stevan grabbed her wrist instantly, pulling her behind him with one swift motion.
The curse exploded inside him—heat, pressure, instinct pushing to the surface. His breath hitched. His muscles tightened. His vision sharpened into predatory focus.
The man smiled. "There it is."
Chisa's voice trembled. "Stevan—your eyes—"
He didn't answer. His senses were flooding with the curse's influence—hyperclarity, aggression, anticipation. Every cell of his body wanted to move, to strike, to tear.
The man extended his arm.
A symbol lit up on his forearm—bright, pulsing, violent.
Chisa gasped. "He still has it—!"
"No," the man said. "This is what remains. A fragment. Enough to compel. Not enough to bind."
The ground vibrated softly.
The curse reacted.
Stevan dropped to one knee, breath slipping through his teeth. His hands were shaking violently as he pushed back against the surge.
Chisa grabbed his shoulders. "Stevan. Look at me."
He couldn't.
The world was blurring.
Voices muffled.
The curse was rising, swallowing thought, drowning reason—
Her hand cupped his face.
Instant relief.
Instant grounding.
Chisa whispered, "Stay with me."
His vision stabilized. The curse recoiled sharply but didn't vanish. It was clinging to him like a living shadow, resisting her influence but unable to overcome it entirely.
The man tilted his head. "So that's her role."
Stevan rose slowly, using the wall to steady himself. "You're not touching her."
"Touch her?" The man laughed softly. "I have no interest in her." His expression darkened. "But she will watch you die."
Chisa stepped forward, voice cutting through the tension. "Try it. And see what happens."
The man took another step.
Stevan moved without thinking.
The curse surged forward, launching him across the alley with unnatural speed. His fist cut through the air, aiming directly for the man's jaw—
But the man was gone.
Stevan's punch collided with the brick wall, sending cracks across the surface.
Chisa shouted, "Stevan!"
He spun around—but the man was behind him now, standing exactly where Stevan had been.
"You're strong," the man observed. "But unrefined."
Stevan lunged again.
The man dodged effortlessly, moving with fluid precision. Every attack Stevan launched struck walls, ground, air—never flesh. Each miss fueled the curse further, intensifying its grip.
Chisa tried to intervene. "Stevan—stop! You're not thinking—"
"I can't," he growled.
The man smiled. "Good."
Stevan charged once more—but the curse overcompensated. His balance faltered. The man struck him in the chest with a palm strike—clean, sharp, precise.
Stevan flew backward, crashing into a stack of crates with brutal force.
Chisa screamed his name.
The man lowered his arm. "You're not ready."
Chisa ran toward Stevan—but froze when the man spoke again.
"I will return," he said. "And next time, the curse will not hold back."
He stepped backward into the shadows. The lamplight flickered once—and he was gone.
Completely.
Chisa rushed to Stevan, dropping to her knees beside him. He was breathing hard, struggling to push himself upright. She grabbed his hands, forcing his trembling fingers into her grip.
"Look at me," she demanded.
He lifted his head slowly.
Her presence cut through the chaos. Her voice steadied him. Her hands grounded him. The curse sank back into uneasy silence, coiled but not attacking.
Chisa exhaled, relief washing over her features. "You idiot."
Stevan leaned against the wall, exhausted. "I had to fight."
"You had to survive," she corrected sharply. "There's a difference."
He closed his eyes briefly. The alley was spinning slightly. His chest ached from the impact. But he was alive.
Chisa stood slowly, then extended her hand toward him. "Come on," she said with a steady determination. "We're going inside. You're done for tonight."
Stevan stared at her hand for a moment before taking it. She helped him up with surprising strength, pulling his arm over her shoulder to support him.
As they walked toward the back door, she muttered, "Next time… you're not facing him alone."
He didn't argue.
He couldn't.
He simply leaned into her support, the curse silent for the moment—waiting. Watching.
And outside, at the edge of the alley, a faint glowing mark briefly appeared in the darkness… before fading away.