Furious Shinn Asuka

Yet that tiny, desperate wish did not come true.

Just as his consciousness was about to sink into eternal darkness, another pair of hands—gloved hands, far larger and warmer than his—covered the hands choking his own neck.

Those hands firmly seized his wrists with an unquestionable yet restrained strength, stopping him from exerting any more force.

The instant air rushed back into his lungs, he broke into violent coughing, his consciousness yanked back from the edge of the abyss.

The boy raised his head. His unfocused pupils gradually regained their clarity as he looked at the person holding his hands.

The first thing reflected in those red eyes was a white mask covering the upper half of the newcomer's face.

The mask was smooth and devoid of any unnecessary decoration, fitting the contours of his face perfectly. Beneath it, the corners of his mouth curled slightly upward into what appeared to be a gentle smile.

Yet the presence of that mask drained every trace of warmth from the smile, replacing it with an indescribable eeriness that sent a chill racing up the boy's spine.

"After barely getting your life back, it would be a shame to throw it away like this."

The mysterious masked man spoke.

Like the smile on his lips, his voice was steady and gentle, carrying a peculiar power that calmed the heart.

But the content of his words, combined with the way he had appeared, made everything seem utterly incongruous.

For that moment, the boy—Shinn Asuka—forgot to struggle, forgot to shake off the hand gripping him. He merely stared blankly, his hollow red eyes widening in disbelief.

"Who... are you?"

Shinn squeezed the words from his dry throat, his voice so hoarse it was nearly inaudible.

Every muscle in his body tightened with wariness as his