Chapter 01: Night of Bloodshed
Prologue
"I've spent my life longing to be cherished, protected, and sheltered. To be spared from fear, pain, and loneliness. The one who grants me this is you—my beloved." —Dedication to Volume I
Northern H Province, City 1
As night swallowed the bustling metropolis once more, the city’s "red lights"—nightclubs, bars—stirred to life, exuding a decadent allure that lured the lonely and reckless into their flesh-filled depths.
In the heart of District South, the Night Fragrance Club, a mid-tier establishment under the Ironhead Gang’s control, pulsed with depravity.
Inside a restroom on the second floor, a young waiter in a crisp shirt, suit pants, and crimson vest frantically unzipped his pants.
"Gush…"
"Shh… f**k, that was close." He sighed in relief after a minute-long piss, oblivious to the cold blade pressing against his neck.
"Where’s Tie Tou?" The voice was ice. Recognition sparked: a knife.
"3… 307," he stammered, slumping as the blade sliced his skin. Blackout followed a blow to the back of his head.
The assailant—a wiry teenager with a boyish face—wiped blood from the blade. Dragging the unconscious man into a stall, he stripped him bare. Minutes later, at the bar:
"Five German Becks," he announced, sliding the drinks to a bartender.
"For the third floor?" The bartender smirked. "Must be a rich guy tipping well."
"Yeah, the boss sent them as a gift for Tie Tou." The teen smiled, vanishing into the stairwell.
On the third floor, he paused, opened a plastic bag, and poured white powder into the beers. Five minutes later, he rapped on Room 307.
"Service!"
"Who the hell are you?" growled a gaunt thug with dyed yellow hair.
"Gift from the boss," he lied, eyes fixed on Tie Tou—a bald, tattooed thug clutching two women.
The thugs roared with laughter as the beer flowed. The moment the door closed, the teen’s smile vanished. Glancing at his watch, he waited five minutes, then reentered with a dagger.
Chaos erupted. Throats slit, heads rolled, walls painted red. In the c*****e, he carved a bloodied "Revenge" on the wall. Then, methodically, he severed twelve fingers, bagged them, and vanished into the night.
Suburb near No. 2 Middle School
Knocks echoed at a door.
"Who is it?" An anxious woman answered.
"Ms. Li, I’m Wang Kewei’s tutor," lied the teen, flashing a student ID. "We’re here to help struggling students before finals."
Inside, Wang Kewei—a lanky gamer—glared at the intrusion.
"Get lost! Can’t you see I’m busy?"
The tutor smiled, then lunged. His blade split Wang’s skull like a watermelon. Blood splattered the monitor. Another bag collected trophies.
School Dormitory
Changing clothes again, the teen entered a dorm room where four students played cards. Their screams died as quickly as they began. By 11 PM, the campus slept, unaware a killer prowled its halls.
