Chapter1. Prologue: Judgment on the Cross

"O Divine Spirit,

The man-eating monster has crawled from its tomb,

Venting its wrath upon humanity,

Feasting upon the essence of life.

It has seduced the Son of God, leading him into depravity.

We pray for its banishment,

That it may never return to his side.

Let its eyes never behold him,

Let its hands never touch him,

Let its lips never utter his name.

In the name of the Lord,

May this child of God return to Your embrace.

May Your merciful hands shield his peace

And forgive his sins…

Amen."

On the shore, a group of believers clad in white robes formed a semicircle. Barefoot and solemn, they chanted in a rhythmic, peaceful unison.

...The tone was serene and tranquil.

A cold wind swept across the desolate beach. The blackened sea stretched into infinity, looking as though it had been stained with ink.

Atop a jagged outcrop of rock stood a wooden cross, and upon it hung a man. Heavy iron spikes were driven through his wrists and ankles, binding him to the massive structure. His white pullover was stained with crimson blooms of blood. At this moment, his head hung low, and the rimless glasses on the bridge of his nose slipped off silently, falling onto the sand...

A believer in white stepped forward, crushing the glasses underfoot. With a sharp crack, the lenses shattered into countless tiny fragments.

The man nailed to the cross remained motionless, his head still bowed, as if every trace of life had already vanished.

Amidst the orderly chanting, the eastern horizon began to pale. The dark night slipped away as a warm sun slowly climbed above the sea line. The azure waters were perfectly still. Sunlight spilled across the beach and onto the broken shards of glass, refracting into a dazzling, rainbow-like brilliance.

The man shuddered. He slowly lifted his head, his eyes unexpectedly calm and gentle, as if those heavy spikes were not driven through his own flesh.

Gazing at the rising sun in the east and the occasional seagull gliding over the placid sea, a flicker of warmth flowed through the eyes of the man who, even while crucified, remained as serene as an angel.

"Aurora... Vance..."

His pale, parched lips parted slightly as he slowly whispered the name, his voice as warm as it had always been.

Aurora Vance...

Hearing that forbidden name escape the man’s lips, the white-robed believers began to panic.

"Banish it!

Banish the demon!

Let it never return to his side.

Let its eyes never behold him,

Let its hands never touch him,

Let its lips never utter his name.

...

Amen."

The chanting in his ears grew more fervent and intense. The man on the cross, still as gentle as an angel, offered a faint smile.

Rory, even if your eyes can never see me again, even if your hands can never touch me again, even if... your lips can never call my name...

This time, let me be the one to see you. Let me be the one to touch you. Let me go to your side.

...In that moment, I will be a streak of warm sunlight by your side.

This is the beginning of another story; it is not the final end.

Chapter2: A Romantic Encounter on My Birthday

The first snow of winter fell in a heavy, swirling dance, lasting through the entire night.

The alarm clock blared for the third time before I finally, reluctantly, crawled out of my warm cocoon to head to work at the candy shop.

With a wide yawn, I wrapped my scarf tight and pulled on my gloves, arming myself to the teeth until only my eyes remained exposed to find the way. A thick layer of snow had blanketed the road, emitting a crisp crunch-crunch sound beneath my feet.

Tiny flakes continued to drift from the sky. The morning was still dim; the hazy yellow streetlights and the fluttering snow created a scene straight out of a movie. It felt like a waste to have such a dreamlike setting without a romantic encounter to match—especially since today was my twentieth birthday.

Just as I was lamenting the lack of romance, someone suddenly blocked my path.

“Miss, could you tell me how to get to The Velvet Truffle?” The voice was husky and strange, yet carried an indescribable allure.

Confused, I looked up at the man standing before me. He was a full head taller than I was, wearing a dark red hooded trench coat with the hood pulled low, obscuring his face.

On this winter morning, there were few pedestrians about. I took a guarded step back.

Sensing my wariness, he reached up and pulled back his hood, asking again, “Miss, do you know the way to The Velvet Truffle?”

Wait... a romantic encounter?!

Seeing his face clearly, I found myself momentarily dazed. I had never seen a man so bewitchingly beautiful—pale cheeks, slightly wavy wine-red hair, and narrow, elongated eyes. He was draped in an aura of enchantment, lovely beyond belief.

...What a stunning stroke of luck!

“Uh... I actually work at The Velvet Truffle. I’m on my way there now.”

“Ah, that’s wonderful.” He smiled slightly, looking as exquisite and vivid as a blooming rose.

After turning a street corner, we reached The Velvet Truffle. The storefront wasn't large, but it was incredibly refined.

Upon opening the door, the air was immediately filled with a sweet, intoxicating aroma. I brightened the shop lights and turned with a beaming smile toward my "romantic encounter" standing at the threshold. “Please, come in.”

Smile for the service; the customer is God.

Under the bright lights, the various brands and flavors of candies on the counters shimmered, looking exceptionally tempting.

“Buying candy so early? Which kind would you like?” I assumed this over-the-top handsome man was buying treats for a cherished girlfriend—perhaps she was throwing a little tantrum, which is why he was scouring the streets for a candy shop on a snowy day like this.

Most girls have no immunity to sweets, and I was no exception.

However, he shook his head. “I’m looking for Solano Thorne.”

“Huh?” I blinked in surprise. “He won’t be here until ten.”

“I’ll wait for him,” he said with a shallow smile.

Solano Thorne was the owner of this shop, a name as peculiar as the man himself. I had worked here for over six months, yet aside from his name, I knew nothing about him. Every day at exactly ten o'clock, he would appear, brew a cup of coffee at the window bar, and sit there blankly for the entire day. Unless absolutely necessary, he never uttered a single word.

He was odd, certainly, but he was a good boss. He never complained if he caught me slacking off, and more importantly, he never asked me to produce any identification.

That was because I had no student ID, no social security card... not even a birth certificate. Ten years ago, I woke up in a junkyard on Blythe Street with my memory of anything prior to that moment completely wiped clean. My birthday was simply the day I woke up in that trash heap—the day of my rebirth. Because that was the day I met Gareth.

The man walked over and sat at the bar, in the very spot Solano usually occupied.

“Are you a friend of the boss?” I asked curiously, as Solano never seemed to have any friends.

“In a way,” he answered after a moment’s thought.

"In a way?" What a strange answer.

Due to the weather, there were no other customers. I turned and poured a cup of coffee for him.

“Want your fortune told?” he asked suddenly, smiling as he took the coffee.

“You know how to tell fortunes?” I was startled.

“I know divination.” His lips curled slightly. Under the lights, his pale features were impossibly beautiful.

I nodded immediately, showing intense interest.

There were no tortoise shells or stalks used in Eastern divination, nor were there Western Tarot cards. He didn't even set up a facade of mystery. He simply stared at me intently for a long while before speaking slowly. “Today, you must not save anyone.” He paused, then added, “...Not a single soul.”

...Was he telling me to stand by and watch people die?

What kind of divination was that? Hardly professional.

Tinkle... The wind chimes at the door rang out clearly.

“Welcome!” I turned quickly with a practiced, sunny greeting.

A teenager with a backpack walked in, dressed very thinly for the weather. He didn't look at the candies in the display cases; instead, he looked straight at me, his ink-black eyes filled with a certain indifference.

“Good morning, Boss.” My lip twitched slightly as I maintained my smile.