It's not cold..."
Angel murmured as he strolled beneath the ink-black sky of February, clad only in a thin t-shirt. Frost curled over the edges of parked cars, and his breath should have frosted the air—but nothing came. The biting night, once brutal, now felt like a lukewarm breeze against his skin.
He paused by a glass-fronted building, catching his reflection. Pale as snow, almost translucent. Yet... striking. His once-weary features had sharpened, revitalized into an ethereal handsomeness that brought out both the Japanese delicacy and the Italian boldness in his blood. His dark eyes, however, held something else—something unreadable.
"Mom, Dad, I'm home!"
His voice rang out as he pushed open the apartment door. The savory scent of broth spilled into his nose. Soccer commentary echoed from the television before the screen blinked off.
"Put your bag down and come eat," his father, Marco Hughes, called out. He rose from the couch, setting his coffee aside.
"This is unusual," said Aiko, his mother, placing dishes on the table. "You don't usually come home this late."
"I just lost track of time. Was hanging out with friends." Angel laughed, trying to keep the mood light. He slipped off his shoes and moved to the table.
"I see... That's good." Marco's response came with a sip of lukewarm coffee, though his gaze lingered on his son longer than usual.
"Ooh—Mom's ramen!" Angel grinned. The warmth of the bowls and side dishes brought a momentary glow to the otherwise quiet evening.
They ate in silence for several minutes, the only sounds being the clink of chopsticks and the low simmer of the broth.
"Why do you two look so serious?" Angel finally asked, breaking the stillness.
Marco and Aiko exchanged a look.
"Angel," Marco said, voice low and deliberate. "I'm sorry to say this, especially now that you've made friends here in Japan…"
"Mom?" Angel turned to her.
"We're going back to Italy," she said softly.
The words landed like frost.
"What...?" Angel's mind reeled. The chopsticks trembled in his fingers.
"Let's finish dinner first," Marco said.
That night, the meal that once brought comfort now lingered bitterly on Angel's tongue.
---
Saturday. Four days. That was all the time left before his world shifted again.
Tuesday morning came swiftly. Angel walked to school as usual, but this time he passed by his so-called friends—the ones who had nearly led him to death—with nothing more than a frozen glance. They laughed nervously, unsure of the change in him.
Inside the classroom, all eyes fell on him. He could feel it—the stares. Not just the boys, but the girls too. It wasn't mockery. It was awe.
"Angel? Is that you!?" Hana gasped, her jaw slack. His transformation hadn't gone unnoticed.
"Good morning, Hana," he replied with a calm smile.
It was the first time he saw a girl genuinely blush at his greeting.
"Let me borrow these again," she teased, snatching his glasses from his face.
"Hey, wait—" Angel blinked, expecting a blur. But he still saw clearly. Startlingly so. Then, without thinking, he darted forward.
He caught up to her in an instant.
"Huh?!" Hana turned, surprised to see him already behind her.
"Give it back," he said softly, extending his hand.
Still stunned, Hana placed the glasses into his palm.
---
Later that day, whispers filled the school halls. Jin Shirasawa. Airi. Jiro. All missing. Rumors swirled like wildfire.
Angel sat alone in the school garden, picking at his lunch beneath the faded cherry tree when—
"Angel!" Hana sprinted toward him, breathless.
"Hana? What's wrong?"
"The police—they're here! They're in the principal's office!"
Angel stood. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"They said you were the last one seen with Jin and Airi yesterday."
His blood chilled. But he nodded and walked calmly to the office.
Inside, tension weighed heavy. Two uniformed officers, Jin's parents, and the principal turned as Angel entered.
Without warning—
SLAP.
Jin's mother struck him across the face.
"You monster!" she screamed. "What did you do to my son?!"
"Ma'am, please—let's stay calm," the principal interjected.
"The students said you went into the forest with them!" Jin's father snarled, fists clenched.
"Wait—what about Airi?" Angel asked, his voice breaking slightly.
"Don't you dare shift blame!" the mother hissed. "You're nothing but a liar. A thug."
Angel's hands trembled at his sides. He remembered—Airi's memories had been tampered with. She wouldn't remember anything about that night.
"You dared to mess with Kosei Bioinnovation's sales and marketing manager's son," Jin's mother sneered. "Let's see if your pathetic family can cover the damages."
Angel's vision tinged red. His fangs itched to show, eyes burning to reveal their crimson hue—but he forced it all down.
Then—a buzz from the officer's phone. An update.
"They've been found," one officer announced. "Jin and Jiro—both alive. Lightly bruised. Unconscious in the forest."
Relief was short-lived.
"Lightly bruised!?" Jin's mother shrieked. "That's enough for me! I'll sue your whole family!"
Angel clenched his jaw. The insults didn't stop.
"You belong behind bars. And I'll make sure your family joins you."
He stood silent, emotionless. Not because he agreed—but because he knew that any wrong move could expose what he was becoming.
Then—
The door creaked open.
Jin and Jiro entered, both pale but walking.
"Son!" his mother rushed to embrace Jin.
"We'll ensure this boy pays!" she growled, turning toward Angel once more.
Angel looked at Jin.
There was no gratitude in his eyes. No guilt. Only confusion, and perhaps fear. How had they survived?
Then—
"My, my. What a pleasant surprise to my ears... Takashi Shirasawa."
The room turned toward the voice. A tall man in a dark coat stepped inside.
Malachi.
Sharp eyes, unsettling grin. His presence sucked the air from the room.
"Who are you!?" Jin's father demanded.
"A concerned party," Malachi replied. "One with... vested interest in the truth."
Angel's eyes narrowed. Malachi wasn't supposed to show up—not here, not yet.
But his arrival changed everything.
And Angel felt it—
His past was no longer his own.
And his future had just begun to bleed.