The interior of a luxurious penthouse in Roppongi. Soft lighting, tinted windows. Hawks leans against the window, the city spread out like a board of glittering souls. His group, “Crimson Vow,” is resting after a performance. They're not just idols… they're soul collectors for the Demon King.

Hawks (inner voice, relaxed but sharp tone):— Being a demon in this city is like being a shadow at a fairy tale. Everyone looks at you… and no one sees you. (Walks among his group members, demons disguised as idols, beautiful and dangerous.)

— The King wants young souls. Slowly corrupted. Their laughter, their desires, their fears… all brewed on the stage. We prepare them. We dazzle them. And then… we take them.

(Looks at a list on a black tablet. Several names are highlighted in red.)

— There's a strange energy in the Shibuya district lately. Someone's interfering… But it's not time to worry yet. First, another concert. Another harvest.