When she got home, she threw herself onto her bed with pink sheets, sinking into the soft mattress, still surrounded by the Hello Kitty wallpaper that had decorated her room since she was eight. Despite being nineteen now, she'd never had the courage to change it—there was something comforting in that childish pink, in that red bow repeated across the walls.
Deep down, it was part of who she was.
The television in the corner of the room was still paused on the sixth episode of Desire After Death, her favorite series. She hadn't watched it in weeks, but she loved it. It was her fifth time rewatching the whole thing, and it still gave her chills in certain scenes.
Lying on her side, legs swaying in the air as if touching the sky with her toes, she held her smartphone in one hand. The screen lit up her face, reflecting in her honey-colored eyes that blinked slowly—tired, yet focused.
She typed "Yami Yamasaki" into the search bar.
The first headline made her laugh.
Disaster in the Hiragana District: Vandalism and Negligence — Sports Academy Nearly Destroyed. The Exorcist Is to Blame!
"So dramatic… sometimes things just… get too hard to hold back," she muttered, teasing gently, a faint gleam in her eyes. She told herself she'd never do something like that—but there was a kind of fondness in her critique, a quiet empathy, like watching a hero stumble and still admiring him anyway.
She entered the Order's official site — http://a-ord.com.aj — her heartbeat subtly quickening. The page loaded quickly. She knew the interface by heart. Navigating it was like walking through her own house in the dark.
There he was. The only one who wielded black flames. Yami Yamasaki.
She'd read it all before—three times, if she were being honest. She knew the story, the early start, the lack of discipline, the negative ranking, but also the remarks: a genius of his generation, grade V, despite never officially accomplishing anything. His aura alone had frightened the masters who'd once trained him.
Then she looked at the corner of the screen. Two hours until midnight. The night would soon wrap her in its silent blanket.
And to think she'd only slept half an hour today.
Her eyes were heavy. She barely heard when her mother knocked at the door.
"Sweetie? Aren't you going to eat…?"
It took her a second to react, pulled abruptly back into reality.
"Uh… yeah… yeah… I'll be there, Mom…"
Her cheeks were warm. And red.
Was it love at first sight?
Maybe. Or maybe it was just the beginning of something she didn't even know how to name.