“The birthday I had been preparing for… turned into a day drenched in blood.”

Cora’s eighth birthday was just around the corner. She had been waiting for this day for as long as she could remember.

For weeks, she poured herself into every detail—carefully choosing decorations, imagining the laughter, and picking out the perfect dress. In her mind, the celebration had already happened a hundred times, each version more beautiful than the last.

This was meant to be the happiest day of her life.

And for a moment—It was.

The grand banquet hall shimmered beneath golden chandeliers, their light spilling across polished marble floors. Elegantly dressed guests filled the room, their laughter blending with soft music and quiet conversations. The air itself seemed alive with warmth and celebration.

At the entrance stood Cora.

Her flowing blue dress caught the light with every movement, glimmering like a piece of the evening sky. She greeted each guest with a bright, radiant smile, her small hands waving, her voice light with excitement.

Everything was perfect.

Exactly as she had dreamed.

Until—

The doors creaked open.

The sound was soft.

But wrong.

It sliced through the laughter, sharp and unnatural, and the room seemed to hold its breath.

A man stepped inside.

Darkness clung to him like a second skin, his face hidden beneath deep shadows. In one hand, he carried an ancient book—its worn cover etched with markings that seemed to shift when looked at too long.

One by one, the voices faded.

The music faltered… and died.

All eyes turned toward him.

Confusion spread across the room, quiet at first—then growing, like ripples across still water.

The man whispered something.

Too soft to hear.

Too distant to understand.

Then—

A massive black circle opened behind him.

It did not appear—it tore itself into existence.

It pulsed.

Breathing.

Watching.

From its depths, figures began to emerge.

Men cloaked in black robes stepped forward one by one, their movements slow and deliberate. Each carried a weapon. Each stood in silence.

Waiting.

The cloaked man raised his hand.

And pointed.

At Cora.

When he spoke, his voice was cold enough to still the air itself.

“Kill everyone in sight… except for the boy and that girl.”

And then—

He was gone.

Chaos erupted.

Screams shattered the silence as fear spread like wildfire. Guests turned to flee, their footsteps echoing against the marble floor, but there was no escape. The once-beautiful hall descended into panic and confusion, the celebration collapsing into something unrecognizable.

The laughter that had filled the room moments ago twisted into cries of terror—

And then, one by one—Faded.

Through it all, Cora stood still.

Watching.

Her expression was calm.

Unmoving.

Almost… satisfied.

Time seemed to stretch, the chaos unfolding around her like a distant dream.

Until, at last—

It was over.

Silence returned to the hall, heavy and suffocating.

And then—

As suddenly as they appeared, the robed figures began to fade.

Dark smoke curled around their bodies, swallowing them whole. One by one, the armed men in black robes dissolved into shadows, their forms unraveling into nothingness until no trace of them remained.

Cora’s lips slowly curled into a small, unsettling smile.

“It’s finally… over.”

Her voice was soft.

Almost relieved.

And then—Her body gave out.

She collapsed onto the cold marble floor, her blue dress spreading around her like a fallen piece of sky.

For a moment—

There was nothing.

No sound.

No light.

No time.

Then—

A sharp breath tore through the silence.

Cora’s eyes snapped open.

The world rushed back all at once, heavy and disorienting. The golden lights above blurred into streaks, her vision struggling to steady as a dull ache pulsed through her head.

She blinked.

Once.

Twice.

And then—

She saw them.

Bodies.

Everywhere.

Scattered across the grand marble floor where laughter had once lived. Guests lay motionless, their elegant clothes now still, their presence reduced to something hauntingly quiet. The vast hall, once filled with warmth and celebration, had turned cold… hollow.

Cora’s breath caught in her throat.

Her fingers trembled against the floor as she slowly pushed herself up, her small frame unsteady. The soft fabric of her blue dress dragged against the marble as she moved, her eyes darting from one figure to another.

Confusion washed over her.

“What…?”

Her voice came out barely above a whisper.

Fragments of memory flickered in her mind—blurred, broken, slipping away before she could grasp them. The door… a man… something dark—

Then nothing.

Her chest tightened.

“Why are they…?”

She couldn’t finish the sentence.

"Did something happen?"

Her gaze fell to her hands.

They trembled.

But there was something else—

A feeling she couldn’t explain.

Not fear.

Not entirely.

Something deeper.

Something wrong.

Cora slowly rose to her feet, her legs weak beneath her. The hall stretched endlessly around her, far too quiet now, as if the world itself had abandoned the place.

“…Hello?”

No answer.

Only silence.

A silence that felt like it was watching her.

Her heart began to pound.

Minutes later—

The doors burst open.

Police officers rushed inside—

And stopped.

The scene before them stole the air from their lungs.

Silence.

Shock.

Horror.

“What… happened here?” one of them whispered.

“We’re too late…” another muttered.

They moved carefully, scanning every corner, every shadow.

“Check for survivors. Now.”

Then—

“There…!”

At the center of the room—

A small girl.

Kneeling.

Shaking.

Alive.

They approached her slowly, as if even the slightest movement might break her further.

“Miss… can you hear me?”

Cora let out a quiet, shattered sob.

“You’re safe now,” the officer said gently.

“We’re here to help.”

He extended his hand.

For a long moment, she didn’t move.

Then—

Slowly—

She reached out.

And took it.

An hour later—

Inside a quiet interrogation room, Cora sat across from an officer.

Her hands rested in her lap.

Still trembling.

“State your name.”

A pause.

“…Corazelle.”

“Do you remember what happened?”

She shook her head.

“I… don’t remember…”

Her voice faded into nothing.

“All I remember… is my hands… covered in blood…”

The door opened.

A man entered, followed by a teenage boy.

The atmosphere shifted the moment they stepped inside—quieter, calmer, heavier.

The officer stood, exchanged a few words, then left.

The man took the seat across from her.

The boy remained standing beside him.

Watching.

Silent.

The man smiled gently.

“Hello, Cora. I’m Albert Everhart… and this young man is Kate.”

Cora lowered her gaze.

“You’ve been through a lot tonight,” he said softly.

Her fingers tightened slightly.

“Do you remember anything at all?”

She shook her head again.

“Your parents… were they there?”

Another shake.

“I don’t remember… anything,” she whispered. “Not even them…”

For a moment—

He froze.

Then he glanced at the boy.

“Are you sure about this, Master?” the boy murmured.

“She has no one… or at least, she believes she doesn’t,” the man replied quietly.

A pause.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m sure.”

He stood.

Walked toward her slowly.

Carefully.

And extended his hand.

“Cora… before your memories return… would you like to stay with us for the time being?”

Mr. Albert’s voice was gentle, his warm smile carefully placed—reassuring, steady, almost too perfect for a world that had just fallen apart.

Cora looked at him in silence.

Her eyes, still clouded with confusion, searched his face as if trying to find something familiar—something safe.

Mr. Albert cleared his throat softly, then continued,

“Ah… it’s just that… you don’t seem to remember anything. Not even your parents. If staying with us helps you recall something… or if your family comes looking for you, then—”

“Okay, sir…”

Her answer came quietly.

Simple. Certain.

And just like that—

Cora stayed.

They welcomed her with open arms.

The house, once quiet and orderly, slowly began to change. Soft footsteps echoed through the halls again. A small voice replaced the silence. Little things—like laughter, like curiosity, like life—returned to places that had long forgotten them.

Cora was given her own room.

It was simple, but warm. Clean sheets, neatly arranged books, and a window that let in the morning light. At first, she stood at the doorway for a long time, as if unsure whether she truly belonged there.

But eventually—

She stepped inside.

Days passed.

Then weeks.

Then months.

Cora adapted.

Quietly.

Naturally.

As if she had always belonged there.

She learned the routines of the house, the rhythm of each day, the small habits that made it feel like home. Mornings were calm.

Evenings were peaceful. And somewhere in between, life slowly stitched itself back together.

But her memories never returned.

Not a single face.

Not a single name.

Not even her parents.

And no one ever came for her.

At first, Mr. Albert told himself to wait.

A week.

A month.

"Surely someone would come.

Someone had to be looking for her."

But as time slipped further away—

Hope quietly faded.

One evening, under a dim golden sky, he made his decision.

From that day on—

Cora was no longer just a guest.

She became his granddaughter.

His family.

Years passed.

Four of them.

At twelve, Cora had changed.

Not just in appearance—

But in presence.

She was calm. Observant. Composed beyond her years. The kind of girl who didn’t need to speak loudly to be noticed.

At school, she blended in.

A normal life.

But behind that normal life—

Something else existed.

When night came—

Cora disappeared.

The city transformed under darkness, shadows stretching across empty streets, hiding things most people were never meant to see.

And in that darkness—

She moved.

With unmatched precision, she slipped through systems no one else could breach. Firewalls, encrypted networks, classified databases—none of them could keep her out. Her hacking and tracking skills were beyond anything anyone could explain.

But she didn’t stop there.

But she didn’t stop there.

She hunted.

Not the innocent.

Only the wicked.

Corrupt people.

Beasts lurking in the dark.

Creatures that did not belong in the human world.

And in her hand—

A scythe.

Forged not by fire—

But by her own blood.

A weapon bound to her, moving as if it shared her will.

Every strike was swift.

Every movement precise.

As if she had done this all her life.

And because of this—

A name spread through the shadows.

Whispered in fear.

Tracked in secret.

Hunted in desperation.

The Serene Hunter.

April 4 arrived quietly, wrapping the office in an almost unnatural calm.

Mr. Albert’s workspace was as it always was—neat, orderly, untouched by chaos. Papers aligned perfectly, books stacked with precision, and silence reigning over everything.

… Almost.

The only disturbance came from the sharp, repetitive crinkling of candy wrappers.

Mr. Albert didn’t look up.

“If that’s you, Cora,” he said flatly, “kindly stop committing crimes against silence.”

Cora sat across from him, completely unbothered, chewing. “It’s not a crime if it’s chocolate, sir.”

“It is when it sounds like a construction site.” He finally lifted his gaze. “Sit down.”

“I am sitting,” she replied, though she adjusted herself anyway, dropping more comfortably into the chair. “So—did you call me here for something important, or is this another life lesson disguised as paperwork?”

“I reserve those for Tuesdays,” he said. “Today is worse.”

Cora paused mid-bite. “… That doesn’t comfort me.”

“You’re being transferred.”

She blinked. “Excuse me—what? Like emotionally, or physically?”

“School. Hillcrest High School.”

Cora stared at him. “… A high school? Sir, I already survived that phase of life.”

“That was elementary,” he corrected dryly.

She leaned forward, suddenly interested.

“Okay… now I’m listening.”

“There’s a USB drive,” he continued. “It contains the location of BANZIA.”

Cora let out a low whistle. “That’s… not small.”

“Nothing we do is small.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m average height.”

“Focus.”

“Right. USB, dangerous secrets, mysterious place… very dramatic.” She tilted her head. “Where is it?”

“Somewhere inside Hillcrest High.”

A beat passed.

“…You’re telling me the fate of whatever-this-is depends on teenagers?”

“Terrifying, isn’t it?”

“I’d rather fight trained assassins,” she muttered. “At least they don’t throw paper balls for fun.”

“You’ll go undercover as a student.”

She stared at him, unimpressed. “Do I at least get cool transfer-student vibes?”

“You get a uniform and a schedule.”

“That’s worse.”

“Your mission begins May 16.”

Cora leaned back, exhaling slowly. “That’s soon.”

“You still have forty-two days to—”

The door suddenly slammed open.

The sharp sound cut through the room like a blade.

“No.”

Cora glanced over her shoulder. “… You know, doors usually open before they slam.”

Kate stood in the doorway, tense, eyes locked onto Mr. Albert.

“Not today.”

Mr. Albert remained calm. “I assume you’ve come to object.”

“I’ve come to stop this.”

Cora leaned back further in her chair, clearly entertained. “Oh, this sounds fun. Is there popcorn, or—?”

“This isn’t a joke,” Kate snapped.

“It usually isn’t,” she replied lightly. “I just make it one.”

“Sit down, Kate,” Mr. Albert said.

“I’d rather argue standing.”

“Respect,” Cora murmured. “Strong dramatic energy.”

Kate ignored her completely. “You’re not sending her on that mission.”

“It’s already decided.”

“Then undecide it.”

Cora raised a finger. “I like that word. Very efficient.”

Kate turned to her. “Cora—”

“Corazelle, officially. But I respond to both, depending on how serious you are.”

“Fine. Corazelle. You shouldn’t be doing this mission.”

“That sounds less like a rule and more like a suggestion.”

“It’s common sense.”

“I don’t use that much.”

“I noticed.”

Mr. Albert’s voice cut in. “Kate, she’s the best option.”

“She’s the only option because you refuse to consider anyone else!”

Cora tilted her head. “I feel special.”

“You’re not supposed to feel anything.”

“Yet here I am,” she said, “feeling mildly entertained.”

Kate exhaled sharply, frustration building. “This is exactly my point!”

“State your concern clearly,” Mr. Albert said.

Kate hesitated—just for a moment. Then, quieter:

“She doesn’t know her past. She doesn’t know what could trigger something. You’re sending her into a situation where one wrong move—”

“—is still better than no move at all,” Cora cut in.

“This isn’t a game!”

“I never said it was.”

Silence followed.

Heavy. Different.

Kate’s voice softened, tension threading through it. “You don’t understand the risk.”

“Then explain it.”

“I can’t.”

Cora gave a faint smirk. “That’s not very helpful.”

Kate looked away. “… Just don’t take the mission.”

“You’re asking, not ordering.”

“I’m telling you.”

“No,” she said calmly. “You’re not.”

“Enough,” Mr. Albert said.

“She’s not ready,” Kate insisted.

Cora stood slowly, her expression steady now. “I’m already in.”

“You don’t even know what you’re walking into.”

“I don’t need to,” she replied. “I’ll figure it out.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“It’s how I work.”

Kate’s jaw tightened. “And what happens when you can’t?”

She met his gaze without hesitation. “Then I adapt.”

“You always say that like it solves everything.”

“It usually does.”

Another pause.

Kate’s hand clenched slightly before relaxing again.

“…You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been called worse,” she said. “Usually more creatively.”

He sighed, the fight draining from his voice. “Just… don’t do anything reckless.”

“That’s a very vague request.”

“You know what I mean.”

She paused.

“…Maybe.”

“The mission proceeds,” Mr. Albert finalized.

“Of course it does,” Kate muttered.

Cora turned toward the door, already moving on. “Try not to worry too much.”

“I’m not worried.”

She glanced back, a faint smile playing on her lips. “Right. You just broke a door for fun.”

“It was already weak.”

“Sure."

He hesitated, then said quietly, “…Just come back in one piece.”

Cora paused at the doorway.

Then, casually—almost lightly—

“I usually do.”

“Usually isn’t comforting.”

“It’s honest.”

She stepped out.

This time, the door closed gently.

Silence returned—but heavier than before.

Kate didn’t move. “…You’re really sending her.”

“Yes.”

“She’s not as untouchable as she looks.”

“I know.”

Kate’s voice dropped. “Then why—”

Mr. Albert spoke, low and deliberate.

“Because…”

He explained.

And as the words settled in, Kate’s eyes widened.

“… That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

The room fell into silence once more—

Not calm.

Not quiet.

But heavy with something neither of them could ignore.

FLASHBACKS — MR. ALBERT’S OLD DAYS

There were nights when sleep refused to come.

And on those nights—

Mr. Albert remembered.

A small garden.

Warm sunlight.

Laughter.

Cora was younger then.

Not the quiet, distant girl she had become—but bright, full of life. Her laughter rang freely through the air as she ran across the grass, her tiny hands reaching for something just out of grasp.

“Grandfather! Look!”

She turned, smiling—no hesitation, no emptiness in her eyes.

Just joy.

He had stood nearby, watching.

Not as a stranger.

Not as someone who found her later.

But as someone who had already known her.

“You’ll fall if you keep running like that,” he had said calmly.

“I won’t!” she laughed, spinning in place.

And then—

She stumbled.

But before she could hit the ground—

Someone caught her.

Her older sister.

“Careful,” she said softly, steadying Cora with ease.

She stood tall beside her, steady and composed. Ten years older, she carried herself with a quiet authority far beyond her age. Her movements were precise, her gaze sharp—always aware of her surroundings.

Where Cora was light—

She was in control.

“I told you,” she said softly, helping her back on her feet.

Cora pouted slightly.

“But you caught me.”

The older sister sighed, though there was the faintest hint of warmth in her eyes.

“That’s not the point.”

Not far from them—

Their parents watched.

Their mother smiled gently, her expression full of quiet warmth.

Then—

The memory began to fracture.

Like glass splintering under unseen pressure, the images broke apart—sunlight, laughter, voices—shattering into fragments that faded into darkness.

Mr. Albert’s eyes opened.

Back to the present.

The silence in the room felt suffocating.

Heavy.

Unforgiving.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

Didn’t speak.

Just sat there, as if the past still clung to him, refusing to let go.

Slowly, his gaze drifted toward the window.

Toward the night beyond it—

Endless.

Dark.

Watching.

His expression softened.

Not with warmth—

But with something deeper.

Something weighed down by time.

“…Renna…”

The name left his lips in a quiet whisper.

Fragile.

Filled with sadness—

And guilt.

The door closed behind Cora with a soft click—far gentler than the one Kate had made earlier.

Outside, the world felt… normal.

Too normal.

The evening air was calm, carrying the faint hum of distant traffic and the quiet rhythm of a city settling into night. Streetlights flickered to life one by one, casting long shadows across the pavement as Cora walked.

Her destination was simple: the public library.

And waiting there— Xyra Silverhart.

Cora slipped her hands into her pockets, walking at an easy pace. For a moment, everything felt steady. Predictable.

Until—

A sound broke through the quiet.

She stopped.

It came again.

Soft. Strange. Echoing faintly from a nearby alley.

Cora turned her head slowly, eyes narrowing.

“…Seriously?”

Curiosity won.

It always did.

She stepped into the alley, her footsteps quieter now, cautious against the cold pavement. The deeper she went, the more the sound seemed to shift—closer, sharper, almost—

Right behind her.

Then—

“MEOW!”

A blur of fur shot past her.

Cora jumped back instinctively. “Haa—!!”

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she stared at the small cat now perched nearby, staring at her like nothing had happened.

Silence.

Then realization.

“…Wow,” she muttered under her breath, pressing a hand to her chest. “If Kate saw that, he’d probably say, ‘Corazelle the serene hunter… defeated by a cat.’”

She exhaled, embarrassed, shaking her head at herself.

“Get it together.”

Straightening, she turned to leave—

And stopped.

Something felt wrong.

Not loud. Not obvious.

Just… off.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze.

A window above.

And behind the glass—

A figure.

Still. Watching.

Cora froze.

Her breath caught.

She blinked—

Gone.

The window was empty.

Her brows furrowed. “…What was that…?”

No movement. No sound.

Nothing.

“…Was it just my imagination?”

But the unease lingered.

Without another word, she turned and left the alley—this time faster.

“Maybe I just need more sleep…” she murmured, though the thought didn’t quite convince her.

The library greeted her with familiar silence.

Warm lights. Rows of books. The quiet comfort of a place untouched by chaos.

It helped.

A little.

Across the room, Xyra spotted her immediately, lifting a hand in greeting.

Cora walked over and dropped into the seat beside her.

“You’re five minutes late,” Xyra said.

Cora smiled sheepishly. “Hehe… sorry. Mr. Albert called me in.”

Xyra’s eyebrow lifted. “That never means anything good.”

“He assigned me another mission.”

That got her attention.

“Really? What is it this time?”

Cora leaned back slightly, sighing. “I’m being transferred. Hillcrest High School.”

Xyra stilled.

“…Wait,” she said slowly, leaning closer. “That Hillcrest?”

“Yeah. The one with perfect uniforms and suspiciously perfect students.”

Xyra’s eyes widened. “Cora… I wanted to go there.”

Cora blinked. “…What?”

“It’s one of the top schools,” Xyra explained. “Great programs, clean campus—everything. But my parents said no the moment they heard it was under NovaTech.”

Cora tilted her head. “So it’s just a normal school with… a shady owner?”

“Exactly,” Xyra said. “Most students are normal. They probably don’t even know anything.”

“‘Probably’ is not a comforting word.”

Xyra leaned in closer, her voice dropping.

“I heard only a few students are actually involved. Four… maybe six.”

Cora raised a brow. “So I just have to find a handful of suspicious people in an entire school?”

“Easy,” Xyra deadpanned. “Totally not stressful at all.”

“Wow,” Cora muttered. “I feel so reassured.”

Still, Xyra crossed her arms, thinking. “Using a school as a cover, though… that’s smart.”

“Yeah,” Cora said quietly. “Which makes it worse.”

“What exactly did Mr. Albert say?”

“Transfer. Act like a normal student. Retrieve a USB.”

Xyra gave her a look. “‘Act normal’? You?”

“Hey—I can be normal.”

“Define ‘normal.’"

Cora hesitated. “…Okay, I can pretend to be normal.”

Xyra smirked—but it faded quickly.

“Cora… if only a few students are involved, that means they’re hiding really well.”

“Or hiding in plain sight.”

“…Which is worse.”

A brief silence settled between them.

Then Cora spoke again, quieter this time.

“Something weird happened earlier.”

Xyra immediately leaned closer. “What?”

“In an alley,” Cora said. “I thought I saw someone. In a window. Just… standing there.”

“Someone?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “It felt off. Then it disappeared.”

Xyra frowned. “You think it’s connected?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired.”

“…Or maybe you’re already being watched.”

Cora let out a small laugh. “Can we not jump straight to that?”

“I’m just saying,” Xyra replied, voice low.

“That kind of timing isn’t normal.”

Cora looked away briefly, then shook her head.

“Maybe I just need sleep.”

Xyra studied her—then flicked her forehead.

“Ow—hey!”

“Stay sharp,” Xyra said with a small smile.

Cora rubbed her forehead. “Your methods are questionable.”

“Effective, though.”

Cora smiled faintly.

But her thoughts drifted—

Back to the alley.

To the window.

To that feeling that refused to leave.

An hour later, they parted ways.

A small wave. A quiet goodbye.

Cora stepped out onto the street and raised her hand, calling for a taxi.

The ride was uneventful.

City lights blurred past the window, reflections dancing across the glass as her thoughts wandered. The mission. The school. The figure.

Too many pieces.

Not enough answers.

The taxi slowed to a stop.

“109 Crescent Avenue,” the driver said.

Cora paid, stepped out, and made her way toward the Everhart house.

That’s when she saw him.

Kate sat on a bench outside, leaning back slightly, eyes fixed on the night sky—like he always did when something weighed on his mind.

Cora approached.

“You planning to sleep out here or what?”

“I was waiting,” he replied without looking at her.

“Wow,” she said, sitting beside him. “Didn’t know I had a personal guard now.”

“Someone has to make sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

She laughed lightly. “Relax. It’s just a mission.”

“‘Just a mission,’” he echoed. “Like the last one didn’t almost go wrong.”

“Almost,” she said. “Keyword.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way.”

“You worry too much.”

“And you don’t worry enough,” he shot back.

“See the problem?”

She nudged his shoulder. “I can handle it, Kate.”

“I know you can,” he said quietly. “That’s not the point.”

She glanced at him. “Then what is?”

He finally looked at her.

His expression had softened.

“The point is… you don’t have to act like you’re invincible all the time.”

Cora looked away, her voice quieter now.

“I’m not. Just… doing what needs to be done.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Well… just make sure you come back after doing it.”

She smirked slightly. “What, you’ll miss me?”

“No,” he said flatly. “It’ll just be way too quiet.”

“Liar.”

“Big one.”

Silence followed.

But this time—it was comfortable.

“Just be careful, okay?” he said.

“I will.”

“Promise?”

She glanced at him, then smiled faintly.

“Promise.”