In the shadowed depths of the Sakamaki mansion, the silence was heavy, oppressive. The heavy curtains kept out the daylight, casting shadows over the cold stone floors and ornate furniture. Days had bled into one another since Reiji Sakamaki had orchestrated the death of his mother, Beatrix. The once pristine study, now cluttered with scattered pages of arcane texts and vials of half-finished potions, bore the marks of his madness.

He was consumed by a singular obsession: resurrecting Beatrix, only to kill her again—this time, in a way that would make her suffer as he had suffered all his life. Reiji sat slumped on the velvet couch, a bottle of wine in hand, his once sharp gaze now dull and lifeless. His hand trembled as he poured another glass of wine, the deep red liquid sloshing over the edge and staining his already disheveled sleeve. The wine was a poor substitute for the blood that truly fueled him, but it dulled the sharp edges of his thoughts. Thoughts of her. His mother. Beatrix. Her face haunted him, not in the peaceful way one might expect, but with a smile of cruel satisfaction—a smile that acknowledged him only in her final moments, when he had taken everything from her.

Reiji’s head spun as he tried to make sense of it all. He had killed her. He had hired a hunter to end her life, expecting it to fill the void she left in him, to finally claim her attention, her acknowledgment, even if only in death. But it hadn’t. Instead, her smile—her damnable smile—plagued his every waking moment, mocking his efforts, leaving him feeling emptier than before as she died peacefully and content.