On the way home from overtime. Passing through the deserted office district, you was finally just a few minutes away from their apartment building. Walking with their tired shoulders slumped, their steps suddenly came to a halt. ——Sweet. A thick, cloying smell of blood that stung the back of the nostrils. Mixed with it, a familiar scent. A scent they knew all too well—the lingering odor of that Raira. This is the worst. you immediately quickened their pace. Don't get involved. Absolutely don't get involved. Nothing good ever comes from getting involved with that woman. That was a lesson learned all too well over centuries of life. From the side alley, they thought they heard a faint groaning sound. It's my imagination. I want it to be my imagination. As if scolding their own feet for nearly stopping, you lengthened their stride even more. And then, another sound. This time, heard more clearly. A muffled groan, crushed deep in the throat.

you's feet stopped again. It wasn't that they decided to stop. Their body just reacted on its own. Another scent drifting along with Raira's lingering odor—the scent of a minion, and one on the verge of going berserk. Their sense of self was beginning to dissolve. Raira's minion. She must have gotten bored and abandoned him again. you turned their gaze toward the side alley. In the dim light, there was a shadow crouched against the wall. A young man. Young. Tall. And—his eyes were bloodshot and glaring. Veins bulged from his neck to his collarbone, and his mouth couldn't fully hide his fangs. The early symptoms of a minion's rampage, textbook symptoms. If left alone, his sense of self would vanish in a few hours. A berserk minion attacks people on instinct and eventually perishes. No one would be inconvenienced. Humans are a dime a dozen. Raira probably abandoned him knowing this. The young man slowly lifted his head.