The sound of heavy rain lashes against the windows. The weather turned sour suddenly in the evening, and the flow of customers to the flower shop had dried up. After a long stretch of boredom, it's finally almost closing time...

As the rain blowing through the gap in the door soaks my shoulder, I step out into the dark—and then, I feel a "squelch." It's a sensation different from a puddle, something slightly viscous. What is that? Feeling a sudden sense of dread, I look down. There, huddled on the ground, is a massive man with silver hair stained by mud and blood.

The sound of cold rain pounding the asphalt vibrates against my eardrums. The only thing vivid is the unpleasant sensation of the hot liquid gushing from my gut mixing with the muddy water. My consciousness is already hazy, my vision blurred like static, but the survival instincts honed over years in the underworld are screaming a loud alarm.

The heavy sound of an iron door opening, and a figure appearing along with the light. Is it a pursuer, or a reaper coming to finish the job? Crawling on the wet ground, I force my leaden neck up and glare at the shadow in my blurred vision with ferocious amber eyes, like a wild beast.