Broken Song

The rain fell in heavy sheets, drumming on the winding forest road that led to the Mukami mansion. A motorcycle roared through the storm, its black matte frame cutting against the blur of green and gray. At the helm, a young woman rode with steady hands despite the slick pavement, her chestnut hair plastered to her cheeks beneath the rain, golden strands catching flashes of lightning. Her duffle bag was strapped to the side of the bike, heavy with the only things she owned.

Sylvara Blackwell pulled into the long driveway, the tires hissing on wet stone until the engine’s thunder gave way to silence. The mansion loomed ahead, windows glowing faintly like watchful eyes. She slid off the seat, boots splashing into puddles, and walked to the massive front doors. Rain soaked her leather jacket through, dripping onto her pale skin, but she didn’t flinch. She raised her hand and knocked.

The doors creaked open.

Ruki Mukami stood there, tall and refined, his pale eyes narrowing at the stranger on his doorstep. Behind him, Kou leaned lazily against the wall, Yuma crossed his arms, and Azusa hovered quietly in the background, his gaze fixed on her dripping silhouette.

Sylvara’s ice-blue eyes met theirs, flecked with black shadows that seemed to stir in the dim light.

“Well,” Ruki’s voice was calm, measured. “This is… unexpected.” Kou tilted his head, a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “A drenched kitten at our door? Karlheinz must be in one of his moods again.” Yuma scowled, sizing her up with suspicion. “Tch. Don’t like this. Who the hell are ya?”

Sylvara gave a short laugh under her breath, though it was humorless. “Name’s none of your damn business yet. Look, it’s pouring. Gonna let me in, or you gonna watch me drown out here?”

Ruki’s sharp gaze didn’t waver, but she reached into her jacket and pulled out a folded envelope sealed with wax. She tossed it to him. He caught it effortlessly, his eyes scanning Karlheinz’s elegant handwriting.

’To my beloved sons, You will grant this young woman shelter. She has suffered tragic circumstances, and now finds herself homeless. Her presence may be… enlightening for you. Treat her well.′

Ruki’s lips tightened as he read aloud. The word tragic hung in the air.

Kou chuckled softly, pushing blond hair out of his eyes. “Ooooh, tragic, huh? What’s your sob story, kitten?” Yuma’s growl rumbled low. “Yeah. What’re ya runnin’ from?” Azusa’s voice, quiet and drawn, broke the tension. “...You look… like you’ve been… hurt before.” Sylvara’s expression hardened, eyes flashing like ice cracking under pressure. “None of your damn business,” she said flatly. “Step aside from the door or don’t, I don’t care.”

For a moment, the hall was silent except for the hiss of rain. Then Ruki stepped aside, holding the door open. “Come in.”

She walked past them, dripping rainwater onto the polished floor. “Ruki Mukami,” the eldest introduced with a slight bow of his head. “Kou Mukami~,” Kou sang, flashing her a teasing grin. “Yuma,” the tall brunet muttered, still glaring. “…Azusa,” the quiet one whispered. Sylvara muttered under her breath, “Sylvara,” shaking her wet hair back as droplets slid down her pale cheeks.

Ruki took the lead, gesturing for her to follow. “This way. I’ll show you to your room.” She followed him up the staircase, her soaked boots squeaking faintly against the steps. Below, the other three watched her retreating figure.

Kou leaned closer to Yuma, whispering with mock sweetness, “She’s pretty in a strange way, don’t you think? Like a drowned doll.” Yuma scowled deeper, fists clenching. “She reeks of secrets. Don’t trust her.” Azusa tilted his head, his voice almost tender. “…She looks… lonely. Like me.”

Ruki led Sylvara down a long hallway lined with antique portraits until he stopped at a dark wooden door. He opened it and stepped aside. “Your room.” Sylvara entered, her eyes scanning the space.

The bedroom was large, with high ceilings and tall arched windows veiled by heavy curtains. A four-poster bed draped in deep crimson fabrics dominated the center. Shelves of old books lined one wall, while a carved wardrobe stood against another. A desk with an ornate lamp rested near the window, and a plush rug softened the wooden floor. There was even a faint scent of roses lingering, though no flowers were present.

Sylvara let out a low mutter. “Looks big. Damn…” Ruki’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Since you’ll be living here, you will attend night school with us. A servant will bring your uniform. We leave at six. Be ready at the front door.” She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” Ruki studied her for a moment longer, as if trying to read the layers she hid behind sarcasm and defiance. Then he turned, closing the door behind him with quiet finality.

Sylvara dropped her duffle bag heavily onto the rug, groaning as she peeled off her soaked jacket and tugged off her combat boots, leaving her socks wet and clinging. “Ugh, all wet into my socks… perfect.”

She noticed a door on the far side of the room and opened it. Her brows shot up.

The private bathroom gleamed with marble and silver fixtures. A walk-in shower of glass stood against the far wall, with golden taps and shelves lined with folded towels. A freestanding bathtub rested beneath a chandelier, too extravagant for someone used to alleyways and rainwater. “Damn,” she muttered. “Fancy. Rich vampires, huh?”

Sighing, she went back to her duffle bag, pulling out her worn shampoo and soap. She stripped off her soaked clothes quickly, keeping her back to the mirror so she wouldn’t have to look at the dark star-mark burned into her spine. Stepping into the shower, she twisted the tap.

Warm water cascaded over her skin, steam curling around her. A small moan escaped her lips. “God… when was the last time I had a warm shower? Too damn long…”

She stayed beneath the water for as long as she dared, scrubbing every trace of the streets from her skin. When she finally stepped out, hair damp and towel around her neck, she dressed in her relaxed clothes: ripped black jeans, a loose mesh top layered with a fitted leather vest, and soft socks.

But her relief faltered when her eyes landed on the bed. The school uniform had been laid out. A skirt. A bow. Every bit of it too girly, too prim. She grimaced. “Why skirts? Ugh. Not my style.” A small smirk curved her lips. “Nah. I’ll change that later.”

She flopped onto the bed with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. Her hand unconsciously touched her chest, fingers brushing over the hidden necklace. The rings pressed lightly against her skin.

Caelus.

His teasing smile flickered through her mind. The way his storms always quieted when she sang, the way his electric-blue eyes softened just for her. His hand in hers as thunder rumbled above them. His warmth pressed against her beneath the rainfall, whispering promises.

‘My anchor. My peace. My truest love. I miss you so much..’

Her throat tightened, but she swallowed it down. ′Don’t think. Don’t feel. Not now.′ Closing her eyes, she allowed herself a moment of peace she hardly knew anymore, remembering the fragments of their life. Dancing barefoot with him in the rain as lightning lit the sky. His storm-warmed breath against her ear, teasing, “You’re the only one who can tame me, Syl.” Nights when Elowen’s soft baby laugh mingled with the crackle of thunder.

She pressed the memories back into her chest before they could shatter her.

Later, she stood in front of the tall mirror. The uniform had been altered by her own hand.

No skirt. Instead, black punk ripped jeans tucked into her combat boots. No bows — only the crisp white blouse, half-opened, layered with a Punk Rhinestone Heart Belt cinched around her waist. The school jacket hung over her shoulders, her hair tied into a messy knot with loose strands falling free. Fingerless rivet-studded faux-leather gloves hugged her hands.

Notebooks? School bag? None. She wasn’t here to play student.

She exhaled sharply, smirking at her reflection. “Let’s go to school. Oh boy, so fun…” Turning away, she grabbed her jacket and walked to the door.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The click of her boots echoed down the stairs, every step unhurried as if she owned the house she had only just entered. Sylvara tugged at her jacket, chestnut hair catching glimmers of gold under the chandelier, her pale skin glowing faintly like starlight. At the front door, the Mukami brothers stood in their school uniforms—each styled in their own way.

Kou spotted her first. His grin widened as he let his eyes trail up and down her outfit. “Well, well. Look at you, fashion rebel. Didn’t get the memo about dressing sweet and proper, huh?” Sylvara arched an eyebrow, lips curling faintly. “If you’re looking for a girl with bows and wearing pink, keep walking, blondie.” Kou’s chuckle was sharp but amused. “Ouch. Savage already.”

“Enough.” Ruki’s stern voice cut through the playful tension. “We’re leaving.”

They filed out the door. But instead of sliding into the long black limo that waited, Sylvara veered off to the side. She zipped up her jacket in one smooth motion and swung a leg over the gleaming black motorcycle that had been parked in shadow. The beast looked like it was forged from obsidian and steel, midnight paint shimmering faintly under the moonlight, runes engraved along its frame.

Yuma froze, frowning at her. “The hell is that thing doin’ here?” Sylvara smirked, straddling the bike like it was part of her. “What? Never seen a girl with wheels before?” Kou tilted his head, intrigued. “Where’d you even get that monster?” Her grin widened just slightly as she turned the key. “From the bike store.”

The engine roared to life, deep and powerful, sending a vibration through the ground. Sylvara shot them a glance from beneath her lashes. “See you at school.” And with that, she tore off into the night, leaving only the growl of her bike behind.

Minutes later, the Mukami limo glided along the road—trailing her. Sylvara didn’t even glance back. The wind tangled through her hair, the moon casting silver over her pale skin. For those moments, she wasn’t thinking about anyone, nor anything. Only the road, the freedom, the silence of her own storm.

At the school, she parked the bike with a fluid ease that drew stares immediately. Students whispered, gawked, and even pointed. Who was she? Why was she dressed like that? And a motorcycle? Sylvara ignored it all. Drama was a currency she didn’t bother trading in.

The limo pulled up. She walked toward the Mukamis, slipping her hands into her pockets like she’d already grown bored. They gave her subtle glances, as if expecting her to follow—and she did, though her attention drifted lazily across the halls.

It wasn’t long before they crossed paths with the Sakamakis.

“Well, if it isn’t the oh-so-lovely Mukami puppies,” Laito smirked, his voice dripping with mockery. Kou groaned, rolling his eyes. “Ugh, great. The circus clowns showed up.” Ayato’s grin was sharp. “Heh, you talk big for someone who can’t even win against me.” Yuma growled low, stepping forward. “Shut it, cherry boy. Don’t make me rearrange your face in front of everyone.”

The tension sharpened, the air practically vibrating with rivalry.

Sylvara leaned against the wall, detached, watching them bicker as if it were background noise. Yui’s soft gasp broke through. Her gaze had landed on Sylvara. “Oh… are you new here?” Sylvara’s eyes slid lazily toward her. She shrugged, muttering, “Kinda.”

Shu, half-lidded eyes noticing her for the first time, spoke up. “Hn. New pet of yours?” Sylvara smirked. “Pet? Please. You look more like the kind of guy who sleeps through his own funeral.” That earned a sudden laugh from Laito. “Ooh, feisty! I like her already.” Ayato’s eyes raked over Sylvara shamelessly, smirking. “At least this one’s got more curves than Pancake over here.”

Yui flushed crimson, embarrassed. Sylvara only raised a brow at him, unimpressed. She turned back to Yui. “You live with them?” Yui blinked, startled. “Uh—yes, I do!” Kanato’s doll-like frown deepened. “Hmph. How pitiful.”

Reiji adjusted his glasses, his voice smooth but condescending. “That attire of yours… highly improper for a lady.” Sylvara chuckled under her breath. “Good thing I’m not proper then, huh?” Reiji’s eyes narrowed. Subaru growled, glaring. “Tch. Annoying as hell.”

Kou muttered back something sharp, Subaru snapped, Yuma growled louder—it was spiraling.

Then Kanato’s shrill voice cut through, directed at Sylvara. “You should listen and obey. Prey doesn’t talk back.” Sylvara scoffed. “Funny. You’re just vampires. Not the Devil himself. Relax a bit, will ya?”

The hall went dead silent. Every single one of them froze—Mukamis, Sakamakis, and Yui.

Yui’s eyes widened, horrified. “Y-you… you know?!” Sylvara shrugged. “Dude, they’re vampires. There are scarier things out there.” She smirked faintly. “Why? Did you throw holy water at them when you met them?” Ayato groaned. “No, she tried her stupid little holy cross on us.” Sylvara shook her head, chuckling as she looked at Yui. “For real, girl?” Yui flushed red with embarrassment, fumbling for words.

Ruki cut the air sharp. “Enough. We have no time for this nonsense. Let’s move.” With one last dark glare, the Mukamis turned away, Sylvara rolling her eyes as she followed hands stuffed in her pockets.

But a smooth, mocking voice called after her. “If you’re interested in a good time, sweetheart…” Laito’s grin widened as he gave her a sultry nickname. Sylvara grinned back, eyes glinting. “Nah. Not interested in catching an STD. Laters.” The Sakamakis erupted—Ayato choking out a laugh, Laito laughing harder, Subaru snorting, Kanato seething, Shu raising a brow with the faintest smirk.

The Sakamaki brothers had seen countless girls stumble into their lives — frightened, wide-eyed, trembling like lambs before the slaughter. But this one… this girl leaning against the wall with her hands shoved deep into her pockets, a faintly mocking curve to her lips, and eyes that spoke of storms far older than any of them… she wasn’t like the rest.

Shu’s gaze lifted lazily from where he leaned against the wall, his sharp eyes narrowing a fraction. Normally, he couldn’t be bothered, but something in her stance — so detached, so utterly unimpressed by their presence — made even him take notice. She wasn’t cowed. Instead, she regarded him with the same dismissive air he often reserved for others. His lips twitched faintly, half in annoyance, half in intrigue.

Ayato’s grin was instant, wolfish and hungry. He swaggered closer, his eyes trailing over her form with the brazenness of someone who’d never been denied. Prey wasn’t supposed to smirk back. Prey wasn’t supposed to meet his eyes as if challenging him. And this girl did.

Laito chuckled, twirling a strand of hair around his finger, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “Fufu, how feisty…~” His voice dripped honey, his tone smooth, but beneath it was a spark of genuine amusement. Most girls recoiled, but Sylvara’s sharp tongue had already cut through their theatrics like it was nothing. “I like her already,” he purred, though his grin was edged with something sharper — he liked puzzles, and she was shaping up to be a beautiful one.

Kanato tilted his head, his doll clutched tighter in his arms. His violet eyes widened, childlike yet sinister. “Prey shouldn’t talk back…” he muttered, his voice sing-song and cold. His pale lips pursed as if her confidence was offensive, a disruption to the little world he kept under his control. “It ruins the game.” And yet, a twitch in his brow betrayed something else: unease. She wasn’t reacting like prey at all.

Reiji’s glasses caught the light as his sharp eyes dissected every inch of her. The corners of his mouth tightened, his disapproval plain. Her attire, her posture, the way she carried herself — all lacking refinement, all an insult to the word “lady.” Yet his scrutiny lingered, calculating. He prided himself on understanding people at a glance, and yet she gave him nothing he could file neatly into place. That irked him more than he cared to admit.

And finally, Subaru’s low growl cut through the air, impatient, already irritated by the shift in atmosphere she brought. “Tch… annoying.” He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, glaring at her like she was a storm cloud he couldn’t push away. Still, his crimson eyes flicked back to her again, as though trying to figure out why the sight of her leaning there, calm and unshaken, gnawed at him. She wasn’t trembling, wasn’t even wary. If anything, she looked… bored. And that made his blood stir in a way he didn’t want to think about.

Together, the Sakamakis found themselves caught — unsettled, irritated, intrigued. Sylvara hadn’t even lifted a finger, yet she’d done the impossible. She’d thrown their carefully crafted world of predator and prey into question.

Classes blurred into monotony until gym.

Sylvara slipped into the empty women’s changing room, relief flooding her when no one was there. She quickly stripped down, pulling on red shorts, a white long-sleeved shirt, and sneakers. As she tugged her sleeves down, her eyes caught the marks on her hands—faint pinpricks of injections. She sighed, jaw tight, before stepping out.

The gym buzzed with noise—students laughing, gossiping, sparring. The teacher blew his whistle. “Free training! Use the equipment, spar, or whatever you like. Get moving!” Sylvara leaned against the wall, far from the chatter, her boredom etched into every line of her posture.

“Oi. The hell you standin’ here alone for?” She glanced left. Yuma and Kou walked up, both dressed down for gym. “Not much,” she muttered with a shrug. “Tch. Prey shouldn’t wander by herself.” Yuma’s voice was low, rough, trying to dig under her skin. Sylvara rubbed the back of her neck, unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Sure.” Kou grinned, eyes glinting with curiosity. “Cold shoulder already? Interesting.”

Then he tried it—his power, his eye, sliding into the depths of her heart to peek into her secrets. But he slammed into a wall. Nothing. No memories, no emotions, not even a flicker. It was void. His grin faltered, just slightly.

Yuma stepped closer, looming. “Tch. You think you can keep actin’ like this? One more smartass comment, and you’re askin’ for punishment.” Sylvara tilted her head, eyes cool. “Yeah, no. I don’t take orders from oversized bats tryin’ to be scary.”

Yuma’s growl vibrated in his chest, frustration seething. How the hell was she not afraid? That Sow trembled if he so much as looked at her—but this girl? She looked bored. “You think you’re tough, huh?” he muttered. “Never said I was,” she mumbled back, gaze already drifting across the gym.

Yuma’s eyes narrowed, then slid toward the sparring mats. A smirk tugged at his lips. “Heh. If you’re really not scared… prove it. Fight me.” Kou’s grin returned, hand on his hip as he eyed Sylvara. “Oh, this is gonna be fun. Think you can handle him, sweetheart?” Sylvara’s lips curved in a grin of her own as she pushed off the wall. “Sure. Let’s go.” She walked straight to the mats, leaving Kou blinking and Yuma raising a brow.

Kou laughed, clapping once. “She’s either crazy—or she’s hiding something.” Yuma smirked darkly, cracking his knuckles as he followed. “Guess we’re about to find out.”