Arc Synopsis
In the unnamed steam-choked undercity, sixteen-year-old Rei Katakiri sweeps soot from rusted steel rails. Four years ago, his father vanished after a riot started by the city’s masked law chief, Baron Cuivre. Most just mutter about that day. Rei remembers that night to the stroke—he saw Cuivre’s gold-hilted cane stained red.
Do you remember exact moments those closest to you were torn away? How would you face that pain when you see his shadow daily in the street markets?
Rei grinds each night, scraping by with odd jobs. Above all, he’s driven by a simple, sharp need: make Baron Cuivre answer for his lies. He keeps his plan quiet. Only Mira, his closest friend (wiry, burned right cheek, sharp grin), knows. She tries to warn him—revenge might do damage he can’t take back. But Rei clings to memory over hope.
Episode one opens with Rei taking a delivery through toxic steam. Nearby, Jackal (a limping ex-guard banished by Cuivre’s word) tries to teach him pickpocket tricks. Jackal has his own reasons. No one trusts anyone; everyone owes someone. This world grinds people down, sells trust by the dram. But Mira still believes things can get better, drawn to a picture of the city with blue sky she treasures in her patched jacket.
What makes someone cling to hope instead of anger? Why does a blue sky picture mean so much to Mira?
The tension peaks when Rei tricks his way into the law house, ready to plant evidence that could ruin Cuivre’s power. His hands shake as he copies records—he sees the gold-hilted cane again in Cuivre’s office. That’s when they’re caught. From the dark, Cuivre steps forward, mask off, blue eyes unblinking. He doesn’t yell. He just smiles calm as iron and asks, “What do you think you’re doing with my memories, child?”
Jackal swings his crutch; Mira darts to pull Rei away, but Cuivre blocks the door. Before the guards arrive, Cuivre lowers his mask, just for them. “An oath can’t be twice broken, boy. Do you want truth, or do you want pain?”
The episode ends there, thick with shock. Rei’s jaw locks—he didn’t expect words, maybe not even a face. He can smell old sweat and gun oil on the gold cane. The screen fades as Ai’s song cracks in, Mira’s tear reflecting only Cuivre’s blue eyes. 
This revenge journey burns slow, each price higher than the last. No one comes out clean. Except maybe Mira’s scrap picture—still unbroken.
