The Day After
Kosei awoke to a strange quiet. The usual chatter from the kitchen, the sound of Kaguya humming while brushing her hair—all gone.
His chest ached before his mind even registered the pain.
Kaguya.
She was still in the hospital, comatose. His mother hadn't spoken much since the accident. His father had taken five days off from work just to stay by her side, barely leaving the hospital.
The apartment felt hollow, like a museum of a life that once was.
Elsewhere in the world — Bengal, Indian Superstate
The meeting room was dark, the air thick with incense and tension. Heavy curtains muffled the protest chants growing louder outside the compound walls.
A tall man, dressed in robes the color of dried blood, stood at the head of a long table.
"Sire," one of his advisors said carefully, "the Secularist Party continues to rally protests. It's growing more violent by the day. We barely covered up last week's incident—over a hundred students were killed. And now, the Mainland President demands we pull our men back."
The advisor hesitated before continuing. "Even our religious loyalists are beginning to turn. Some are saying, 'No god would force people to convert.' Faith is crumbling, especially after the disappearance of the model. She's been missing three weeks now, and we—" he gulped—"we made a mistake killing her. She had millions of fans."
Whispers filled the chamber. The whole world was watching the collapse.
"And yet…" the advisor added nervously, "you are traveling to Japan?"
The man at the head of the table lifted his chin. His eyes gleamed like black opals.
"Do you doubt my decision?" he asked.
"N-no, Sire. I only wish to understand your intent."
"I've murdered thousands. Still, they resist. Why force them to submit," he said softly, "when we can control them?"
"Control? But… how? Is that even possible?"
The man smiled. "There's a mind controller in Japan. An Eternal, like me. We don't need to control the masses—only their leaders. The higher-ups. The protest organizers. Once we control the heads, the body will obey."
A chilling silence filled the room.
He chuckled, then added with vulgar arrogance, "The government will pay for turning on us. Next time, I'll have the President's daughter warming my bed."
He turned to his assistant. "Send word to the Japanese government. Tell them the great sage—Saidi Pandrit—is paying them a visit."
Tokyo, Japan
Kosei's POV
Kosei stood before a palatial residence nestled in the quiet hills outside the city. It didn't feel like a house—more like a shrine or a small mansion. This was where John lived?
He hesitated, then knocked.
Knock. Knock.
No answer.
"Uh… Mister John?"
He pressed the door lightly. It creaked open by itself.
"…Okay, that's not creepy."
He stepped inside. The hall was empty, eerily silent. Polished wood floors, thick velvet curtains, and strange statues filled the space.
Then a voice echoed from above:
"Second floor. Second room on the right."
Kosei made his way up the wide staircase and pushed open the door.
John was seated in an armchair, reading an old book written in a language Kosei couldn't even begin to recognize.
"You remember me?" Kosei asked, cautious.
"Of course," John said without looking up. "I'm not as dumb as you."
Charming.
"So, are you really John I Tzimiske? Like, the 9th-century emperor? What the hell happened last night?"
John closed the book.
"I can see you're full of questions. That's good. I've decided to make you my student—so there's no reason to lie."
He leaned back, lacing his fingers together.
"I peeked into your mind. You love history. Not many teenagers know about someone like John I Tzimiske. You're smarter than you let on."
Kosei blinked. "You… read my mind?"
"You've seen enough not to be surprised anymore. So here's the truth: I'm one of the Eternals."
Kosei said nothing, but his silence begged for more.
John continued. "In ancient times, there was a single god—one who ruled over humanity. But he grew tired. He chose seven humans—those he deemed worthy—and granted them his power. These seven became the Angels of the old world. Immortals."
"I've heard of this," Kosei murmured. "Tanruism, right? Some lost faith from way back?"
John nodded. "That's right. Under their guidance, the world flourished. No one aged. No one died of disease. But then…"
"The first human died from illness."
"Then another. And another. The Angels couldn't stop it. People turned their backs on them. Eventually, the Angels were forgotten and rebranded as 'The Seven Gods.'"
John's voice turned dark. "But the ancient scrolls speak of an eighth. A traitor. The one who brought death."
Kosei's eyes widened. "Lucifer."
John nodded slowly. "The Devil himself."
Kosei leaned forward. "But if the Angels were forgotten… how did you survive? And how are you immortal?"
"Not all followers abandoned faith. Some carried the teachings forward—secretly, through generations. The Byzantines were one of them. When I was a young warrior, the court discovered the rites to awaken angelic power. Four of us took the oath. We became Eternals."
"But the records say you died in 976 AD."
John smirked. "I faked it. I've worn many names since then."
Meanwhile — Tokyo International Airport
A man in golden robes stepped off the private jet, flanked by silent guards. His skin glistened in the evening light. His grin was wide, greedy.
"So Japan hasn't changed. Still full of pretty ladies," Saidi Pandrit muttered to himself.
A young woman in a formal suit approached him with a clipboard. "Sir, welcome to Japan. I'm Hanabi Kyo. I'll be your official guide during your stay."
He licked his lips. "You'll do nicely."
They drove in silence to a residence arranged by the government.
"I'll be nearby if you need me, sir," Hanabi said politely.
"Oh, I will," he replied.
The next day, news reports blared across Japan.
"Breaking News:
The mutilated body of a woman has been found in a garbage site outside Tokyo. Authorities have confirmed her identity as Hanabi Kyo, a government agent assigned to a foreign diplomat. Evidence suggests severe torture and sexual assault prior to her murder…"