Chapter 1 Prologue
"Jimsonweed, the black jimsonweed;
"The rose cursed it for blocking the light;
"The lily cried because it polluted the fragrance;
"The short moss, in panic, crawled all over the cracks and walls..."
In the dead of night, the sun had long set, and all was silent as Capricorn lay in slumber.
In the tail district of Capricorn, Starlight City, within the lord's castle, a small study on the second floor.
The curtains were still open, and a chilling children's song played softly from the Bluetooth speaker. The owner of the study—the lord of Starlight City—lay on the floor, rigid and straight, his face sideways, facing a dark crystal bottle.
A special thin tube connected the back of the lord's head to the bottle, sucking out his brain fluid.
The lord's lifeless pupils were already dilated.
After a moment, a pair of white-gloved hands pinched the tube shut, picked up the bottle, and examined it against the light. The "white gloves" used a dropper to take a sample of the liquid, tasted it, and then sighed, as if sipping a glass of spoiled wine.
Then the "white gloves" bent down and lifted the lord's body.
The lord weighed over three hundred pounds, his belly fat spilling over the chair when seated. Yet, the "white gloves" lifted him effortlessly, as if picking up a cumbersome balloon, and lightly stuffed the lord into a fluffy bunny suit, placing him back on the chair.
From the speakers, a gentle children's choir provided accompaniment:
"Jimsonweed, the black jimsonweed;
"The just bees stay silent;
"The foolish spiders weave funeral veils;
"The swarms of ants shout: burn it, burn it, burn the ominous flower!"
The "white gloves" cupped the lord's head and placed a pair of snow-white bunny ears on the noble head. Needle and thread in hand, they worked quickly—narrowing the nostrils, cutting the mouth into a three-lobed rabbit lip, and finally inserting several long needles made of mithril, a rare and shimmering metal, into the lord's cheeks to form whiskers.
Each whisker was carefully spaced with precision.
By the time the song ended, the lord had been transformed into a chubby white rabbit.
The "white gloves" sat across from the white rabbit, placing a small cake on the desk and ceremoniously sticking colorful candles into it.
The moment the flames flickered, as if rehearsed, the previous song from the speakers ended, transitioning into a birthday tune.
The "white gloves" clasped their hands, closed their eyes in front of the corpse, and when the song ended, the murderer finished his wish... likely not something as benevolent as "world peace."
Then he pinched out the candles and ate the cake, using the lord as a side dish.
"Happy death day, Mr. Rabbit... goodnight."
The murderer cleaned up the tray, grabbed the toolbox, and left the room, but his shadow did not follow.
As the shadow remained, it wriggled and spread across the floor, erasing all traces—dust, hair, cake crumbs—like an eraser. Finally, it slipped out through the door crack, catching up with its owner.
Having completed his task, the murderer leisurely left along the west corridor of the second floor of the castle. Thanks to the lord's arrogance, no internal surveillance was installed in the castle's corridors.
His soft-soled shoes barely made a sound on the thick carpet.
The "White Glove" suddenly paused as he reached the corner, turning sideways to look out the window—through the corner window on the second floor, he saw three small, furtive figures.
At the front was a girl, around ten, with long flaxen hair braided into a thick plait. Her lanky limbs made her look slightly awkward, still growing into her body.
Behind her were a boy and a girl, roughly the same age, holding hands and stumbling along after the girl with the braid.
The killer leaned against the window, his shadow spreading like ink, creeping from beneath his feet into the castle walls. He hummed softly to the tune of the earlier "Black Mandala," watching with interest as this group of midnight escapees made their way across the castle's back garden.
"Lucky kids, choosing a fine night," he murmured.
Then he turned to leave, and the shadow that had been hanging like a curtain on the castle's outer wall quickly retracted, following its owner's steps.
Only then did the surveillance cameras on the castle's outer walls and in the garden jerk back to life, refocusing on the garden.
But by then, there was no one left, and soon, dusk arrived as expected.
As dusk fell and the last of the UV light faded, the janitors arrived for their shift.
They were the lowest rung on the castle's ladder, waking up the earliest, sleeping the latest, doing the dirtiest work, and earning the least.
Two janitors tiptoed up to the second floor when suddenly, one of them stopped and asked, "What's that sound?"
"What?"
"Shh, listen."
"Is it a speaker left on in one of the rooms?"
"Maybe the small study."
"Wasn't the owner in the small study resting last night? He hates noise, should we leave and skip the second floor?"
"No way, I noticed when I handed over my shift that the curtains on the second floor weren't drawn—look, the door to the small study isn't even closed tightly, it's probably those lazy ones from the night shift slacking off again... Ah! S-sorry!"
As the door opened, the janitor was confronted by the now-transformed large rabbit that was once the owner. Thinking it was some private quirk of the owner's, he didn't dare to look closely and, frightened, instinctively tried to close the door.
"What's wrong?" his partner, blocked from view, didn't see what was inside. He only felt the harsh light and couldn't help but complain, "It's so bright."
The janitor in front hesitated, and just before the door closed, he risked another glance inside—the owner, dressed bizarrely in a rabbit suit, hadn't drawn the curtains and was bathed in a large swath of golden sunset. A bloodstained smile was frozen on the rabbit's face, which was backlit.
The sound of children's voices from the speaker echoed through the quiet hallway.
"Mandala, oh black mandala—"
"Underground City."