the first night after hundreds of sleep

It was already well past midnight when something inexplicable entered

[Neo-Tokyo.

At

](http://Neo-Tokyo.At) first, no one noticed. The streets of the party district continued to pulse as always: bass waves rolled out of the clubs, neon lights flickered in every color of the spectrum, and the crowd danced, laughed, drank, and flirted—a living organism made of sweat, perfume, and hormones. But then a shadow slipped through the throng, one that didn’t belong.

She arrived barefoot, completely silent, as if the ground refused to touch her. Her long, raven-black hair flowed like liquid darkness down her back to her waist. What had once been a magnificent garment now hung in tattered shreds from her body—black silk, transparent and torn, barely concealing her pale, flawless skin. The curves of her figure were clearly visible: full breasts, narrow waist, rounded hips that swayed with every step as if by their own will. It was a movement that didn’t seem deliberate—it simply existed, primal and magnetic.

The two bouncers in front of **Eclipse**—tall guys with cybernetic eyes and tattoos glowing in the neon light—raised their heads in unison as she approached. One opened his mouth to stop her. But then her gaze met his. For a tiny moment her eyes flared—deep, blood-red glow, like embers in the darkness. The man froze. His Adam’s apple bobbed once. Then he stepped aside wordlessly, as though someone had flipped a switch in his brain. His colleague followed suit mechanically.

Inside, the crowd swallowed her immediately.

Yet she didn’t move like the others. Where the dancers spun and rubbed against one another, she glided through like a knife through water. Bodies brushed against her—an arm, a hip, a hand that accidentally grazed her back. Each time a small shiver seemed to run through whoever touched her, as if they had received an electric shock. A girl with pink hair and a transparent dress, who had just been laughing at the bar, suddenly turned her head. Her pupils dilated. She stared at the stranger as if seeing something she couldn’t quite grasp.

The stranger stopped. Only a few meters away.

She smiled—slowly, with lips slightly parted. In the flickering laser light, her sharp canines flashed for a split second, longer and more pointed than any human’s.

The girl—Rina, just turned eighteen, with the delicate, not-yet-fully-matured body of a young woman—visibly shuddered. She was slender, almost fragile in build, with long, slim legs tucked into high boots and a narrow waist accentuated by the sheer, silvery-shimmering dress. Her breasts were small but firm and high-set, the dark nipples pressing clearly against the gossamer fabric. The pink hair fell in wild waves past her shoulders, and her skin had that youthful glow that almost seemed to shine under the neon. Her lips were full and glossy, freshly touched up with lip gloss.

Yet she didn’t step back. Instead she unconsciously licked her lower lip. Her cheeks flushed. Her breathing quickened.

The stranger stepped closer.

The bass vibrated so strongly it could be felt in the bones. The air was hot, sticky, thick with smells: ****, sweat, sweet perfume, arousal.

The stranger raised a finger and gently placed it under Rina’s chin, lifting it. Rina’s skin was warm, alive. One could almost see the blood rushing beneath the surface—a delicate vein at her neck throbbed visibly in time with the music.

The stranger leaned in. Her lips came dangerously close to the girl’s

[ear.

No

](http://ear.No) one could hear what she said—the noise was too loud—but Rina’s eyes turned glassy. A soft, involuntary whimper escaped her throat. Her knees trembled slightly. She swayed as the stranger withdrew her finger.

Then the unknown woman turned and slipped deeper into the crowd—a predator surveying her territory.

Rina stood motionless for a moment, eyes wide open, chest rising and falling rapidly. Then, as if in a trance, she began to move. Her steps were unsteady but purposeful. She pushed through the dancing crowd, following the invisible thread the stranger had left behind. No one stopped her. No one noticed how pale her face had suddenly become, how her pupils had widened into black pools.

The stranger disappeared down a narrow corridor behind the DJ booth, where the lights grew dimmer and the bass only reached through the walls as a muffled throb. Rina followed without hesitation. The corridor led to an almost pitch-black corner of the club—a kind of hidden lounge alcove, separated by heavy, velvet-black curtains. Hardly anyone wandered back here. Only the faint red glow of an emergency exit light cast a bloody shimmer across the floor.

Rina pushed the curtain aside.

She stepped in.

The darkness embraced her at once.

And then she saw them: two red eyes glowing in the blackness like burning rubies—calm, patient, hungry.

Rina froze. Her breath caught. Her body trembled, but her feet no longer moved backward.

The red eyes drew nearer.

And the night grew silent.