An ageless night, stripped of all sense of time. A biting winter wind swept through a grand, pitch-black bedroom—a room with no glass windows to keep the chill at bay. Out on the balcony, which lacked even a basic guardrail, stood a bald, elderly Caucasian man in a worn-out nightgown. He remained utterly still. The view framing him was breathtaking: colossal mountains, their peaks bathed in brilliant moonlight. In his hand, the old man gripped something tightly. Suddenly, he turned his face toward you—yes, you, reading these words right now—as if fully aware that he was being watched by a total stranger.
"Hello again, everyone. I can barely recall your faces, mostly because each one of you seems to look entirely different. I wonder why, heheh. Allow me the privilege of introducing myself: I am The Reader, and I have something you ought to know. Please, walk with me." The old man retreated into his bedroom.
"Let there be light, someone!"
Instantly, the room flooded with automatic light, unveiling a lavish interior. The bed was encrusted with a mosaic of colorful gemstones. The walls were adorned with intricate, winding patterns reminiscent of Victorian England. A razor-sharp samurai sword hung mounted on the wall, while a shark-shaped, azure spaceship model sat perched on the headboard. At the foot of the bed lay an antique revolver case, and peeking out from a drawer near the bedside clock was a Holy Bible paired with a black crucifix. Overhead, a chandelier crafted from amber-yellow gemstones cast its glow, illuminating a massive area rug woven with an Oriental dragon motif.
He tilted his head toward you once more, a black-and-pink diary now resting in his hand.
"Those who are sharpened by words are still far better than the useless souls who only breed trouble. The author of this diary—a woman, of course, hmmm... It's about time we started something new, wouldn't you agree? Asia... it is the epicenter of what you might call aesthetics, animation, music, beautiful stars, and so much more. A life intertwined with gorgeous culture. But what if I told you~ that this spinning world of ours has both day and night? By day, we laugh in the sunshine; by night, we pull up the covers to ward off the ghosts. It is a world built in the shadow of a brutal war that humanity can never truly forget. Yet, what if that war had never happened? Perhaps~ right now, we'd all be digging up dinosaur fossils for a living, and no one would even bat an eye, heheh. A simple future always demands a price..."
The old man sank down onto the dragon rug. His withered, wrinkled hand slipped into his pocket and pulled out an ultra-futuristic smartphone.
"Something... something humanity must be willing to sacrifice. I imagine you can't wait to dive into their stories, can you? Before we lose ourselves in all of that, could I ask one thing of you?"
The old man locked his eyes onto yours. He was about to speak one last time. Slowly, he raised the phone's camera, aiming it straight through the fourth wall.
"Don't just look at the wall... from a single side..."
The lights snapped off, plunging everything back into total darkness—until a sudden, blinding camera flash erupted, bleaching the world into pure white.
Prologue
A wandering samurai, his face concealed behind a mask, stood beneath the moonlit sky in a vast, desolate emerald meadow. With two fingers, he gently plucked a blossom from beneath a pale pink tree. He lifted the cherry blossom to his nose, drawing its fresh, sweet fragrance deep into his lungs, before leaning back against the trunk with a serene sigh. Not a soul could disturb the peace of this white-clad warrior. Little did he know, a soft, rhythmic thud of footsteps was closing in from his left, pace by deliberate pace.
A fearsome, crimson monstrosity materialized from the shadows. Its eyes were bulging and bloodshot, its fangs long and jagged, and its body so skeletal it bordered on grotesque. It wielded a terrifying scythe adorned with human skulls. The samurai shifted his gaze toward the demon, his expression entirely detached. He showed not a single flicker of fear for the beast to prey upon.
"What brings you here, Oni?" the mysterious swordsman asked calmly.
The fiend tossed the scythe over the back of its neck and bared its teeth in a wide, sickening grin, using its hideous visage to intimidate its foe. The Oni then leveled the razor-sharp blade at the drifter. Above them, the moon bled into a deep crimson.
A murderous, vengeful aura surged toward the samurai, aiming straight for his life—yet it proved utterly useless against the warrior's ironclad focus.
"You and I were once one and the same, heheh... hahaha!" The demon's raspy, dry laughter echoed through the night.
The young samurai reached for his hilt, drawing his uchigatana from its sheath in a single fluid motion. He assumed a traditional defensive stance, raising the tip of his blade until it mirrored the glint of the blood-moon. A sudden gust of wind whipped his hair to the left.
"I owe you nothing anymore, Oni. A human would never offer their soul to a demon. I must say, the wind brought you to the right place. For when the moonlight strikes my Samusa blade, it stands ready to slay any devil and cast it straight back to the depths of hell."
A flurry of cherry blossoms drifted between them as they locked eyes. The long katana lowered, settling into a low guard near his pelvis. The demon cracked its jaw side to side with a sickening snap, crunch.
"Then I'll take your blood instead! Ooh, raaaaaaaaaah!" The beast roared like a wild animal, lunging at the wanderer with its hell-born scythe.
The samurai locked his focus onto the incoming strike. "Bring it on, fiend! Hiyah!!—"
The screen abruptly cut to grayscale. Everything froze instantly, as if paused by a remote control. The samurai and the Oni were trapped mid-shout, their weapons suspended in mid-air.
Suddenly, a plump, middle-aged Asian man walked right into the frame. He wore a sharp, tailored suit, and his completely bald head gleamed so brightly it practically reflected the sun.
"Pardon the interruption, kids," the man said, stepping right in front of the frozen combatants. He flashed a warm, friendly smile directly at the audience watching at home.
"Have you ever wondered just how far technology can push past its own boundaries?" Despite his appearance, his English accent was absolutely flawless.
Behind him, the background shifted, morphing into a massive, iconic skyscraper bearing the letters 'TAOS'.
"We have the answer right here for you. Just visit our website at TAOScience.network. It's a platform designed to bridge the gap, helping both the older and the new generation understand today's cutting-edge tech. Take this cyber-ball computer, for instance."
He held up a metallic sphere on his palm and pressed a small black button on top. It projected a beam of light forward, transforming his background into a glowing blue cyberspace buzzing with intricate circuitry, weaving everything together into a miniature metropolis.
"TAOS Corporation isn't just about the present; it's about what's coming tomorrow. That's why we've designed user-friendly products for the newer and the older generations. With our New Mode and Classic Mode, accessing seemingly complex appliances—like a smart washing machine or a remix console—is an absolute breeze. In fact, our Classical Mode allows anyone to become the Mozart of the 22nd century. You can compose your very own album using nothing but—" He tapped his left temple with a finger. "—your brain core."
As he spoke, the digital background dynamically shifted to match his pitch.
"And for the rising stars in the business world, we offer built-in courses on management and sales at an incredibly budget-friendly price. Upon completion, you'll receive a certified credential to add to your resume for immediate job applications. Personally, I believe everyone has the right to start their own business. Boundaries disappear when the world has... TAOS. That is our slogan. I am Kevin-Xu Wen, CEO of TAOS Corporation. We thank y—y—yo—" The television signal began to break up, replaced by a harsh, crackling static. The noise echoed through a cramped, dimly lit apartment room where garbage littered the floor. Not a single light was on; the only illumination came from a sliver of sunlight piercing through the window of the tiny rental unit.
"Stay still, you piece of shit," a man hissed in a low whisper. "Maybe this is why the boss wanted you dead."
A heavy dragging sound scraped across the floor in front of the TV. A mysterious man clad in a ski mask and a heavy coat, wearing pitch-black gloves, was hauling a burlap sack. A thick, dark red fluid was seeping through the fabric, leaving a smeared crimson trail across the floorboards.
Without warning, the sack began to thrash violently, as if whatever was trapped inside was fighting for its life.
"Fine! Want to do this the hard way?" The masked man pulled a heavy hammer from his waistband and brought it down hard onto the sack. A fresh surge of red liquid soaked through the burlap. "Dammit! What a bloody mess. Now I'll have to patch the idiot up again."
The cloaked man kept dragging the mysterious sack toward the apartment door. But as he flung the door open, his back bumped hard against a solid, heavy obstacle. The masked man spun around, only to freeze.
"What the—!" a gasp escaped his throat in sheer terror.
Standing before him was a horrifyingly distorted parody of a human being. It had the petite frame of an ordinary young woman, but where her eyes should have been, two hideous, jagged fangs protruded from her sockets. And where her mouth belonged, a pair of human eyes stared back at him. Below those eyes, two rows of teeth bared into a sickening grin at the killer.
The creature stepped into the room, and the door slammed shut behind it.
The only sound left in the heavy silence was the muffled voice of a young child counting down from the neighboring apartment.
"Lok (6)... Mmm (5)... Sei (4)... Saam (3)... Yee (2)... Yat (1)... Ling (0)..."