A man who appeared to be in his twenties moved along the city street. His steps carried an unnatural order, barely grazing the ground.
How this was possible remained a mystery, and no one even seemed to notice his presence. He moved like water slipping between the crowd.
Before long, he reached a two-story cafe and walked in, the bell over the door barely ringing.
Inside, the air smelled of espresso and aged wood, making the place popular with the locals.
A dark counter ran along the wall, steam hissing from the vintage espresso machine behind it.
He began walking towards the counter, and sunlight slipped through the tall windows, lighting his face a little.
At first, the woman behind the counter didn't notice him. Only when he pressed the bell did she lift her head up.
"Sir…" she was in dazed by his appearance.
He was handsome enough to rival actors. Dark almond-shaped eyes held an almost unrealistic purity, while hair as black as ink was tied behind his head and braided into a single strand.
The only thing that made him looked off was the white training robe he wore, a garment usually reserved for monks.
Even so, with a face like his, it hardly mattered. He could wear tattered clothes, and it still wouldn't have done much to dull his natural charisma.
For a few seconds, she thought she must be imagining him. No one could be that perfect.
"W—what can I bet you?" she mumbled.
"Uh… s-sorry… I mean… how can I get you?" she stammered, biting her tongue.
"Sorry!" She waved her hands like a drowning mime. "No, no! What can I get you?"
The flush on her cheeks and the restless movement of her fingers made her too easy to read.
He only smiled, already accustomed to such reactions.
"One coffee, please," he ordered, his tone perfectly balanced: relaxed, smooth, and soothing to the ear.
"Wh-what kind of coffee would you like?" she stammered, her words tumbling over each other.
"Expresso. Extra strong."
She nodded and hurriedly tapped the buttons on the cash register.
"That will be $5."
"Keep the change." He pulled out $10 from his wallet.
"May I have your name?" she asked, grabbing a cup and marker.
"Raize…" he paused. "You can call me Rain."
"Rain?" she repeated.
His name didn't quite fit a face that could make any woman's heart skip a beat, but somehow, that only made it more intriguing.
"Sir…" She tried to ask for his number, but he headed first toward a table where a middle-aged female dressed in black business attire waited.
"Thank you for coming, Master Rain." She stood and gave a respectful nod.
Only after he took his seat did she sit down.
He looked around without turning his head and noticed that the people on the other tables were part of her group.
"Master, I beg your pardon for bringing all these people. But since this concerns classified information, such security is essential."
Rain didn't bat an eye. He waited for his coffee, took a sip, and savored the bitter taste.
Most would scoff at such bitterness, calling it a waste of money, but he never liked sweet flavors anyway.
"Elaine, how many years has it been?" He set his cup down, ending his silence.
"Twenty years, Master. I was only fifteen the last time we met." She let out a bitter laugh. "I'm thirty-five now… and you still look the same."
A light chuckle escaped his lips. "Don't envy me. Growing old is a gift."
She smiled and quickly apologized. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"Don't worry about it." He took another sip, showing that he didn't want to further discussed such topic.
"Master, what have you been up to these past twenty years?"
"Ah, the usual. Reading, learning, sleeping. You can only do so much when you're like me."
Elaine hesitated, unsure what to say. Her thoughts wandered back to the very first time they met.
Back then, she was a young girl, delighted by simple pleasures: theme parks, friends, and chocolate cakes.
Then everything changed. Threats came for her family, and just like that, her carefree days vanished.
One day, he came to their home and stayed for a year as their bodyguard.
During that time, she treated him like an older brother, believing he was only a few years older.
"Master…" she hesitated, but forced herself anyway, "are you still searching for a way to die?"
"It's my lifelong goal." He didn't even think about it.
That was her cue.
She reached into her bag and slid a black card across the table. It carried only one line of text:
(Department of Defense - Supernatural Division. )
Casually, he picked it up and smiled. This wasn't the first time he heard of the department.
For years, they pursued him, aiming to capture him, weaponize him, or learn the secret of his immortality.
Time and again, they failed. Eventually, they gave up chasing, so long as he brought no harm to society.
The matter was so serious that all the great powers signed a binding treaty pact to leave him alone.
"Are they still trying to recruit me? The government is too greedy. Don't they have nuclear weapons already"
"Master," she folded her hands apologetically. "I know you avoid worldly matters, but our actions aren't political, I swear."
He detected no falsehood in her words.
"Very well. I'll grant you a chance, given our history."
"Thank you Master. Please take a look at this." She slid a tablet across the table, displaying a series of photos.
The images showed young people, appearing asleep, but their faces were twisted in agony and torment.
Next slide showed another set of pictures, and this time, it drew a reaction from him.
Humanoid monsters filled the screen. Their skin was dark and lifeless. Some had extremely wide mouths, others had eyes bulging from their sockets.
They looked like nightmares come to life, straight from a horror film.
"Are these…?" He stopped mid-sentence.
"They're the same people," Elaine voice quivered a little, but she still continued with her explanation.
"We've been getting more and more reports of individuals who suddenly fall into a comatose state. Then… after a few days they turn into monsters."
"Is it some kind of biological weapon?" He questioned. "I remember another country working on drugs that boost the human physique during the war. Could this be a version of that?"
She shook her head.
"That's what we thought at first. But it's happening all over the world. Governments are hiding it to prevent panic, but the numbers keep rising. Soon, the truth won't stay buried."
"Tell me more." He commanded.
"So far, every victim followed the same pattern. At first, the symptoms look harmless. Doctors thought it was Kleine-Levin Syndrome. You might know it as Sleeping Beauty Syndrome."
"The victims sleep far longer than normal," she continued. "Even when they wake up, the fatigue doesn't fade. A few days later, it gets worse. They start sleeping through entire days."
She paused, fingers tightening around her cup. "Eventually they fall into a coma."
"And then?" Rain trailed off.
"They die in their sleep and turn into monsters."
He tapped the table once. "Any common traits among the victims?"
In any investigation, that detail mattered most. It was often the key to narrowing the possibilities.
She nodded and answered the best she could. "Gender, race, and social status didn't matter, based on the data. Every case so far involved someone under twenty. No one older."
"Are you sure this isn't just a new virus?"
Elaine let out a bitter smile. "It doesn't behave like a normal illness—no infection pattern, no shared environment. That's why we ruled out disease."
She lifted the cup and took a sip of her frapped. "We're calling it a curse."
"A curse? So it's supernatural, not scientific?"
"Master. You know better than anyone that there are things in this world can't be explained by science. You're one of them."
He slowly shook his head.
"Maybe that's how you see it. But in all the years I've walked this world, I've learned that the so-called supernatural… it's just science we haven't caught up to yet."