CRIMSON PROTOCOL

Ancient hall. Stone. Cold.

Walls lined with insignias—

symbols of a bloodline feared for generations.

At the center—

a young figure stands alone.

“The Kurogane bloodline…”

A voice echoes.

“…was never meant to coexist with humans.”

Sōma stands still.

Head slightly lowered.

Calm.

Silent.

A drop of blood falls from his hand.

drip

Another vampire kneels nearby—

injured. trembling.

“You’ve already won… why hold back?”

Sōma looks at him.

Expressionless.

For a moment—

his eyes flicker.

Red.

Then—

he turns away.

“…unnecessary.”

He could finish it.

But he doesn’t.

From the shadows:

“Still restraining yourself?”

A higher-ranking vampire steps forward.

“Even with that bloodline… you remain incomplete.”

Sōma doesn’t answer.

But his hand tightens slightly.

“Your power is sealed for a reason.”

Pause.

“Remember that.”

Control is not a choice.

It is a requirement.

A file is placed in front of him.

“New assignment.”

“Target: Human.”

Slight pause.

“…rare blood classification.”

For the first time—

Sōma reacts.

Just slightly.

“…define rare.”

The answer:

“Enough to break you.”

Sōma takes the file.

“Understood.”

But his grip tightens.

Then I will not break.

The office was silent.

Not the uncomfortable kind—

but the kind built on precision.

Every document was aligned.

Every movement calculated.

At the center of it all sat Hoshino Haruki.

Calm. Composed.

Untouchable.

The door opened.

A figure stepped in—

—and immediately stumbled.

A brief, almost imperceptible misstep.

Caught just in time.

Almost.

“…Kurogane Sōma,” he said, straightening his posture as if nothing had happened.

“Assigned to assist you.”

Haruki didn’t look up at first.

“…You’re late.”

“…A minor delay.”

(He overslept. 💀)

A file was handed to him.

“Sort these.”

Sōma reached for it.

A single paper slipped.

Then another.

He bent to pick them up—

knocked his hand lightly against the desk.

Silence.

Haruki finally looked at him.

“…Are you qualified?”

“…Yes.”

A pause.

“…the errors are non-systemic.”

From the side, Meiko Amari observed quietly.

Her smile remained polite.

But her gaze sharpened—just slightly.

Haruki turned to leave.

Sōma stepped forward at the same time.

They collided.

It wasn’t hard.

But it was close.

Too close.

Sōma reacted instantly—

one hand on Haruki’s shoulder, steadying him.

The other—

hovering near his chest.

For a brief moment—

everything stilled.

“…Are you injured?” Sōma asked quietly.

“…No.”

They didn’t move.

Not immediately.

Then—

Sōma stepped back too quickly.

His shoulder lightly hit the wall behind him.

“…Apologies,” he said.

“…I’ve just slept.”

Haruki stared at him.

“…That explains nothing.”

Meiko’s fingers tightened slightly around her folder.

Her smile didn’t change.

It’s fine, she thought.

Just an accident.

…then why did he react first?

Haruki adjusted his sleeve.

“…You’ll be working closely with me from now on.”

“…Understood.”

As Haruki walked past him—

Sōma moved again.

Instinctively.

Closing the distance without realizing it.

“…Maintain proper distance,” Haruki said.

“…Yes.”

(He didn’t move farther away.)

For a brief second—

Haruki paused.

“…something is off.”

Sōma said nothing.

But his eyes—

flickered.

Just slightly.

Episode 2: “Unstable Distance”

The car ride was quiet.

Not the peaceful kind—

but the kind that pressed against the air, waiting for something to break.

Hoshino Haruki sat by the window, eyes fixed on the passing city lights. Every movement outside reflected faintly against the glass—blurred, distant, controlled.

Across from him, Kurogane Sōma sat perfectly still.

Too still.

“…You’re staring,” Haruki said without looking.

A pause.

“…I am observing.”

“…There is nothing to observe.”

Another pause.

“…incorrect.”

Haruki finally turned his head slightly.

“…explain.”

Sōma didn’t answer immediately.

Because explaining would require honesty.

And honesty was not part of the protocol.

“…potential threats,” he said instead.

Haruki glanced outside.

Empty streets.

Normal traffic.

Nothing unusual.

“…I see.”

(He didn’t.)

Silence returned.

Then—

thud.

Sōma’s shoulder lightly hit the side of the car as it turned.

He froze.

Adjusted.

Sat straighter.

Haruki watched him this time.

“…you lack balance.”

“…temporary.”

“…define temporary.”

“…uncertain.”

A faint pause.

“…you are inefficient.”

“…acknowledged.”

Across them, Meiko Amari let out a soft breath—almost a laugh, but not quite.

“…your assistant is… unique.”

Haruki didn’t respond.

Meiko’s gaze shifted to Sōma.

Sharp. Measuring.

“…how long have you been working under him?”

“…recently assigned.”

“…and yet you act as if you’ve memorized his movements.”

Sōma went still.

Haruki noticed.

“…pattern recognition,” Sōma replied.

“…impressive,” Meiko said softly.

But her eyes didn’t soften.

The car slowed.

“Sir, we’ve arrived,” the driver announced.

The building ahead was quiet.

Too quiet.

Haruki stepped out first.

Sōma followed immediately—

too close.

“…distance,” Haruki muttered.

“…yes.”

(He did not adjust.)

Meiko exited last, heels clicking softly against the pavement.

Her gaze lifted briefly—

then paused.

“…we’re being watched.”

Haruki stopped.

“…location?”

“…uncertain.”

Before the sentence even finished—

Sōma had already moved.

A step forward.

A slight shift of his body.

Positioning himself between Haruki and the open space.

Instinct.

Immediate.

Unthinking.

Haruki noticed that.

“…you reacted before confirmation.”

“…precaution.”

“…you didn’t hesitate.”

Sōma didn’t answer.

Because hesitation—

would have been dangerous.

A faint sound echoed from above.

Metal.

Movement.

Sōma’s gaze flickered upward.

For a brief second—

his eyes sharpened.

Then—

he stepped forward—

and immediately—

slipped slightly on the pavement.

Recovered.

Instantly.

Silence.

Meiko blinked once.

“…is this part of the precaution?” she asked.

“…surface instability.”

“…it’s dry.”

“…optical misjudgment.”

Haruki exhaled slowly.

“…focus.”

“…yes.”

The sound above disappeared.

Whatever presence had been there—

gone.

But Sōma didn’t relax.

Because he could still feel it.

Faint.

Distant.

Watching.

And beneath that—

something else.

A scent.

Subtle.

Warm.

Too close.

His gaze shifted—

just slightly—

toward Haruki.

Silence.

For a moment—

everything narrowed.

The sound of the city faded.

The air shifted.

And all that remained—

was the steady rhythm of a heartbeat.

Don’t.

Sōma’s fingers tightened slightly at his side.

Do not focus.

Haruki stepped forward.

Closer.

“…we’re wasting time.”

Sōma didn’t move.

“…Sōma.”

A pause.

“…yes.”

He stepped back.

Just enough.

Control restored.

Barely.

Meiko watched the exchange in silence.

Her expression unreadable.

…that wasn’t normal.

But she said nothing.

Haruki adjusted his sleeve.

“…stay alert.”

“…always.”

As they entered the building—

Sōma walked half a step behind him.

Too close.

Too aware.

Too controlled.

And for the first time—

Haruki didn’t tell him to move away.