To see their name… is to own their soul.
---
7:13 A.M.
St. Gabriel's High School – East Gate Entrance
The morning sun paints golden streaks over the black iron gates, as students flood into campus in waves of laughter, phone screens, and freshly pressed uniforms.
Among them walks Silas Creed — white-haired, tall, immaculately dressed. His face is calm. His eyes are warm. A gentle smile rests naturally on his lips.
"Silas! Good morning~!"
"Hey! Wait up, Creed!"
"Yo, Silas! Let's hang out after school!"
He nods at them all, offering a small wave with the grace of a prince. The girls giggle behind their hands. Boys admire his ease. Teachers feel relief simply seeing him.
But Silas doesn't hear their voices. Not really.
He's watching something else.
Floating above every head like a cursed halo is a glowing, translucent string of letters — their full, legal names. Some he's memorized already. Others, he stores. One swipe of his phone in stealth mode and he saves it all. Names. Faces. Timetables.
Today's new entries: five. Three girls. Two boys. All irrelevant.
He walks past them with soft steps.
---
7:24 A.M.
Class 1-B
Silas takes his seat at the window, second row from the back. The sunlight bathes his golden eyes in warmth. A girl sits down beside him — short brown hair, wide eyes, smile too big. She stammers out a nervous:
"Um… Silas, did you do the math homework?"
He turns to her with the same gentle smile.
"Of course. Want to take a look?"
Her heart skips. Her cheeks flush pink. She's already picturing dates, maybe confessions in the hallway, Valentine's Day.
Silas watches her expression carefully. Like studying a frog before dissection.
He hands her the paper. Her fingers brush his. She gasps.
File created: "Hikari Watanabe – delusional. Not a target. Potential bait."
---
10:15 A.M.
Chemistry Lab
The classroom smells like alcohol and plastic gloves. Silas mixes clear liquids with ease, earning praise from the teacher.
"Excellent work as always, Creed."
The class glances over. He shrugs modestly. "Just following the instructions, sir."
His lab partner, a quiet boy with glasses, leans in. "Hey, uh, do you think… that video online was real? The new Hollow one?"
Silas keeps stirring the beaker, expression blank. "Hard to say. Deepfake technology's getting wild."
The boy shivers. "Still… the way the guy screamed, and the fire… That voice filter gave me nightmares."
Silas smiles softly. "Don't worry. Guys like that only kill people who deserve it."
Like you.
---
12:04 P.M.
Rooftop – Lunch Break
The wind tugs lightly at his silver hair as Silas sits alone, eating a neatly packed bento box. Every bite is timed. He chews exactly 15 times. Swallows. Drinks. Breathes.
He pulls out his phone. Lockscreen: plain black.
One fingerprint swipe and a new interface appears.
> HollowNet v5.3
Viewer count: 12.8 million
Comments: 72k new
Next upload scheduled: 7 hours
He scrolls through the comments on his latest kill.
> "Real or not, this guy's a god."
"He burned that man alive just for having 3 DUIs? Justice."
"Hollow, cleanse the world."
"When's the next one? I need more."
Silas doesn't smile. Doesn't react.
He just taps on the screen. A new file opens:
> Target: Yuji Okabe
Age: 41
Status: School Board Chairman
Hidden Crimes: Serial abuse, buried records, five known victims
Address confirmed.
Night shift begins at 10PM.
Security: minimal.
He closes the file.
---
4:30 P.M.
Back Alley – Residential District
The sky is red now. City lights flicker on.
Silas walks home, turning left into a narrow alley where the light doesn't reach.
He stops at a rusted steel door. A scanner embedded in the wall glows faint blue. He places his finger on it.
Click. The door opens.
Inside is his studio.
Walls covered in screens. Servers hum in the corner.
Cameras, surgical tools, masks, chains, acid, gloves.
At the center — a glass table. A man is tied to it. Gagged. Naked. Terrified.
Silas pulls off his school blazer, rolls up his sleeves. His golden eyes gleam in the low light.
"You must be wondering why I'm doing this," he says gently.
The man screams against the gag.
Silas picks up a scalpel.
"Yuji Okabe. Born May 3rd, 1984. Blood type A+. Favorite food: unagi. Little details. So fragile."
He places the blade on the man's thigh.
"You hurt children. Ruined lives. Hid behind money and threats."
He leans close. His perfect smile returns.
"This isn't revenge."
Slice.
"This is art."
---
11:57 P.M.
Upload Complete
A video goes live on the dark web. Masked face. Distorted voice. A symphony of screams.
People watch. The legend grows.
Silas, meanwhile, lies in bed, eyes open. Staring at the ceiling. Thinking. Calculating.
---
Final Line:
> "Only 9,999,984 left to go."