Eidolon

Inside the limo Rei moved closer to the window and stared out at the Den’s entrance. Every second stretched into an eternity. She could hear the faint, rhythmic tap of Cillian’s shoe on the pavement outside. But inside the plush confined space, there was only the frantic drumming of her own heart.

The thought of being bought out was a splinter in her mind, twisting deeper with each passing moment. This wasn’t a simple pickup. Takumi’s presence here, at this hour, was an execution. He wasn’t just collecting a leased asset; he was here to sever the last, fragile bonds tying her to Karasu. A cold dread, sharper than any fear of a handsy client, seeped into her bones. It was the fear of loss. Of being untethered. She loved Karasu. The feeling, simple and terrifying, echoed in the silence of her own mind. Karasu was a storm of a man; ruthless, manipulative, his affection historically as likely to cut as to caress.

He had forged her in flames, teaching her to seduce and spy, using her father’s debt as a chain. Karasu had hurt her, made her feel powerful and powerless in the same breath. But he had also, in his own fractured way, made her feel seen, loved, strong and safe. In the shadows of his club, amid the lies and the vice, their connection had been the one thing that felt brutally real. It was a raw nerve in a world of numb flesh. The thought of that bond being dissolved made her blood run cold. It wasn’t just losing a protector or a mentor; it was losing part of her own chaotic heart.

She stared at the door of the Den, willing it to open, praying to see Karasu’s furious, possessive face one more time. She knew, logically, that there were ways for them to stay in touch: encrypted burners, dead drops in the city’s underbelly. Karasu was a shadow needing no light to cast himself; he could find a way to whisper to her if he wanted to.

But Takumi was different. His control wasn’t the underhanded, patiently opportunistic control of a Spider. It was systemic, meticulous, born of corporate omnipotence. He would monitor everything: her communications, her movements, her sleep. He demanded not just obedience, but pristine, unblemished command. A stray signal, a cryptic message, a lingering glance from a stranger; his exceptional sense of detail and infinite resources would catch it, and the consequences would not only fall on her, they would fall on Karasu.

The door of the Den opened. Her breath hitched. Takumi emerged alone, his expression unreadable. He didn’t smile as he walked toward the car, but Rei felt the force of his victory like a stiff gust of wind. Cillian opened the door. As he slid into the seat opposite her, the scent of Karasu’s cigarette smoke and the club’s incense seemed to flee the cabin, replaced by his clean cologne.

The limousine pulled away from the curb with a whisper, sealing them in a bubble of tense quiet. Takumi sat like a statue of contained menace. Rei didn’t dare look back at the Den. She kept her eyes forward, her geisha-painted face a perfect, unreadable mask. But beneath the facade, her heart was screaming a silent, desperate prayer into the void: Find me Karasu.

In the back office Karasu felt as if he had carved out a part of himself and handed it over with a bow; the part that knew the exact sound of Rei’s laugh, when she was genuinely amused, not when she was playing a part. The part that remembered the fierce, terrified determination in her eyes the first time he’d send her onto the hostess floor. The part that had, against all his own rules, started to beat in time with her heart. Losing Rei meant losing part of himself, and he had sold it for the continued privilege of ruling his kingdom of shadows. A low, guttural sound escaped him, part groan, part fury. He slammed his fist down on the sofa cushion, the impact muffled and unsatisfying.

The fury ignited, a welcome inferno burning away the cold emptiness. This was not defeat. Takumi had made a fatal error, mistaking Karasu’s pragmatism for a lack of conviction. He thought he had bought a toy and neutralized a rival. He didn’t understand that by taking Rei, he hadn’t won the game; he had simply changed the rules to ones that had no limits.

Karasu’s mind, usually a chessboard of calculated moves, became a forge of vengeance. He would not contact her. Not directly. But Mirage City was a web, and he was the Nephila at its center. He would find a way to dismantle Takumi’s operation brick by brick. He would steal the Eidolon tech out from under him, would make the Kuroda big shot regret the day he ever set foot in The Electric Dragon Den. The hollow feeling gradually got replaced by a core of solid resolve. He walked to the window. The limousine was gone, leaving only the grimy street behind. Takumi had taken his heart, fine, now Karasu would take everything from Takumi.