Tokyo never truly sleeps.
But beneath its glowing towers and endless traffic lies a darker truth—
a world where curses, demons, and sorcerers wage silent war.
Most humans never see it.
Tonight, however, the air trembled.
A condemned subway station lay sealed off, warning tape fluttering in the stale wind. Inside, shadows twisted unnaturally, gathering into a curse spirit, its form warped and breathing hatred.
Then—
Drip.
Blood touched the concrete.
A boy stepped forward from the darkness.
He wore Kamo Clan robes—white fabric stained faintly red, tied with a deep crimson sash. His black hair was neat, his expression calm to the point of being unsettling.
This was Noritoshi Kamo.
The curse screamed and lunged.
Noritoshi did not move.
The blood on the ground rose.
Not splashing.
Not spilling.
Obeying.
Thin crimson threads shot upward, piercing the curse from every angle. Its body froze mid-air, suspended like a puppet with severed strings.
Noritoshi lifted his hand slightly.
> "Disperse."
The curse collapsed into ash.
Silence returned.
Noritoshi exhaled slowly, eyes dull—not victorious, not relieved.
Only tired.
> They're watching me…
He could feel it.
The Kamo Clan had always been watching.
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CHAPTER 2 — THE KAMO CLAN'S SIN