Interlude: Roster II

This is the final bonus chapter. It's the full Roster, along with the Setting Notes and Infection Lore. It contains expanded profiles for the major cast, the Other World characters, and the core locations of Hanamizu. There are some light spoilers here and there.

For the supporting cast and antagonists, I kept things intentionally brief. Not every character in the story is meant to carry the same weight. Giving every single character a full essay would have turned this roster into a 20k-word encyclopedia, so I focused on the ones whose arcs shape the heart of the story.

Thank you again for reading, commenting, and sticking with me all this time. 

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MAJOR

Ren Hanashiro / Kaelren

Age: 22
Height: 184 cm

Ren has unkempt white hair that falls messily over sharp, golden eyes. A thin scar cuts across his upper lip, and his left arm is missing from the elbow down. Pale skin and lean muscle are marked by old battle scars, each one a silent remnant of a life no one in this world could ever imagine. He favors plain, light-colored clothing.

Before he became Ren Hanashiro, he was Kaelren of Blackbarrow, born in a small border village within a realm shaped by mana—an ambient magical force woven through every facet of life. Most people required tools to use magic: staves, talismans, scrolls, rituals. Kaelren was an anomaly. He absorbed mana passively. Endlessly. Automatically. His body stored it in vast internal reserves and allowed him to cast directly, without any external medium.

The blessing came with a curse: Kaelren could not fully control the rate at which his body consumed mana. During prolonged battles, he drained energy from the world around him—the air, the soil, the plants. And when injured enough… sometimes from people.

His village was destroyed when he was young—burned by agents of the Holy Land under the command of Bishop Renfield. Kaelren survived only because Renfield let him, recognizing the anomaly in him. That survival twisted into manipulation: Kaelren was baited, pushed, and molded into a weapon of hatred, walking a path of revenge that grew into a full rebellion. Whispers named him the Demon King—fated to devour the world’s mana. But the prophecy was a lie, fabricated to justify the Holy Land’s purge of any magic they couldn’t control.

Kaelren became a symbol. He fought alongside outcasts, mages, and revolutionaries wronged by the Holy Land’s tyranny. His closest companion was Leon, a prodigy of blink-spell teleportation, who fought at his side through countless campaigns.

The war ended in a cathedral of fire. Saint Renfield’s suicide-curse nearly consumed him. Evelyn the Promised—the Holy Land’s greatest weapon—severed his arm. And when the truth was revealed, Kaelren’s resolve guttered out. Leon then made one final choice. He used an experimental spatial-swap spell. He saved Kaelren’s life and condemned him to another world.

Kaelren was torn from his realm and hurled across dimensions. The magic burned his hair white. He landed on a cold beach in modern Japan—nineteen years old, bleeding out, half-dead, mana all but gone.

He was found on the beach by Hayate, a retired police officer with quiet scars of his own. Hayate got him into Seiryo University through favors and pressure, and forced him into counseling as a condition of supporting him. Ren now lives alone in a cramped studio, paid for partly by Hayate, partly through menial part-time work. He moves through the modern world like a ghost—alienated, exhausted, and waiting to fade.

And yet… despite his isolation, Ren clings—quietly—to memories, to promises, and to the rare people he allows close enough to matter. He rarely expresses it, but connection softens him, anchors him, and terrifies him in equal measure.

Likes: Quiet mornings and milk with coffee.

Dislikes: People who talk too much. Loud things.

Goal: Says he has none…

Reina Aokawa

Age: 24
Height: 166 cm

Reina has straight red hair styled into a clean wolf-cut and bright, steady blue eyes. She’s athletic, graceful, and effortlessly put-together—usually wearing her Seiryo University uniform with quiet flair: polished loafers, a tailored fit, and a small golden hairpin shaped like a lily. She moves like someone who’s used to being seen.

On the surface, Reina feels calm, composed, and charming. She listens more than she speaks, carries herself with easy confidence, and often becomes the emotional center of whatever room she’s in. But much of that poise is a performance. Behind it lies a quieter, sharper intensity.

Reina studies people before she lets them close. She says the words others need to hear, even when she doesn’t fully believe them herself. She tries to be the one who stays strong, who reassures, who steadies the group—an idealized version of the person she thinks she should be. The weight of her family’s legacy sits heavy on her shoulders, and her instinct to protect others often crosses into something closer to a savior complex.

That instinct comes from guilt she rarely acknowledges. Born into the powerful Aokawa family, a dynasty that controls much of Hanamizu’s infrastructure—its offshore airport, shipping networks, transit systems—Reina was raised in privilege, polished for the spotlight, and groomed to inherit a corporate empire. She studies Business Logistics and Corporate Strategy at Seiryo University, a degree chosen not for passion but for expectation. Even so, she excels—through talent, pressure, and relentless effort.

Reina’s kindness is genuine. Her optimism is real. But she has a habit of helping people and then vanishing before the emotional fallout hits. Leaving others to deal with the silence she didn’t mean to cause. It’s part of why Ren drew her in so quickly. He was the first person she couldn’t fix, couldn’t fully read, and couldn’t predict. Someone she couldn’t “save,” no matter how hard she tried. And though she’d never admit it aloud, that terrified her—and made her feel alive.

Likes: Running. Swimming.

Dislikes: Feeling powerless.

Goal: To start a family.

Lilly Aokawa

Age: 20
Height: 161 cm

Lilly is gentle in a way that feels almost out of place in the ruined world she now walks through. Soft-spoken, slow to interrupt, and deeply empathetic, she often fades into the background when others are speaking—especially beside her older sister’s natural charisma. But that quietness isn’t emptiness. Lilly sees more than she says, absorbs more than people realize, and carries an inner world far richer than she ever shows.

When Lilly was eight years old, she was the target of a kidnapping attempt orchestrated by a small anti-corporate resistance group hoping to damage the Aokawa family’s reputation. The incident was violent, disorienting, and nearly fatal. From that day on, she developed an aversion to shouting, chaotic crowds, and unfamiliar places. Her parents and Reina reacted by coddling her, protecting her from hardship, and never asking her to push herself. The intention was love. The result was fragility.

Lilly has spent most of her life in someone else’s shadow—not because she’s talentless, but because everyone around her tried to shield her from the world’s sharp edges.

Despite that, she possesses a quiet willpower all her own. A small, stubborn ember.

She longs to be braver, stronger, more certain—not for her parents’ expectations, not for Reina’s sake, but for herself. She wants to stand on her own feet without trembling. She wants to trust that she can survive the world without needing someone else’s hand in hers.

She enrolled at Seiryo University largely because her parents insisted she stay close to Reina, who was already a rising figure in the school’s elite circles. While Lilly herself has no grand ambition for corporate succession or power, she excels academically—precise, organized, and quietly capable. Teachers describe her as “calm and attentive,” not realizing how much of that composure is practiced.

Likes: Sweet bread. Rainy days. Drawing.

Dislikes: Confrontation of any kind.

Goal: To become a teacher.

Midori Igawa

Age: 24
Height: 194 cm

Midori is the kind of person who moves first and thinks later. He is driven by instinct, emotion, and a fierce protective streak that borders on self-destructive. When someone is in danger, Midori doesn’t hesitate—he throws himself into the fire without considering the cost.

But that same bravery is his deepest flaw. Every mistake becomes a ghost he carries alone.

Midori is the son of two highly successful veterinarians who built a network of clinics across Hanamizu. He grew up watching them heal animals with gentle hands and genuine care—work that inspired his early admiration. But as their business expanded into a miniature empire, Midori watched them shift from healers to executives, from hands-on medical work to boardrooms and profit margins. The older he grew, the more he felt abandoned by them—not out of malice, but out of neglect disguised as ambition.

In the present day, Midori rarely speaks to his parents beyond polite texts and obligatory calls. They aren’t cold—they’re just absent, living in a world of schedules and meetings. And Midori, who wears his heart on his sleeve, learned early that emotional distance hurts more than silence. Instead of medicine or corporate prestige, Midori chose fields that felt real. Hands-on. Necessary. He studies mechanical engineering and emergency care, balancing two demanding disciplines in a way that baffles everyone except him. If something breaks, he fixes it. If someone is hurt, he’s already at their side. He believes deeply in the kind of work where effort translates directly into helping others—something pure, something he can be proud of.

But because he gives so much of himself, he often forgets to protect his own heart. Midori takes failures personally. If someone gets hurt under his watch, he internalizes it. If he can’t save someone, it haunts him. He doesn’t know how to forgive himself.

Likes: Music. Biking. Animals.

Dislikes: Being rushed.

Goal: To live without regrets.

Kurobane “Kuro” Sato

Age: 24
Height: 182 cm

Kurobane Sato carries a quiet sort of brilliance—the kind that looks effortless from the outside, but inside runs on sleepless nights, intrusive thoughts, and a mind he can’t always trust. Outwardly, he is composed, polished, and sharp enough to cut. Inwardly, he’s fraying.

He lives with a voice in his head—a cruel, insistent whisper that grows louder as the world collapses. Jealousy. Doubt. Self-hatred. It slips into his thoughts when he’s tired or stressed. It tells him he’s not enough. It tells him others will leave. He hasn’t told anyone. Not Midori. Not Haruka. No one.

Kurobane grew up in a cramped apartment on the east side of Hanamizu, raised almost entirely by his mother—an ICU nurse who traded sleep for double shifts and skipped meals so her son wouldn’t have to. She was warmth, patience, and quiet strength.

His father was everything she wasn’t. An alcoholic. A gambler. A man whose apologies always came too late—or not at all.Kuro stopped waiting for him to change long before he stopped hoping.

He learned early how to read people with unnerving accuracy. To predict their moods, their fears, their breaking points. It was a survival tactic—one that became instinct. He watched, always watched, the way others moved and spoke and lied. Understanding them was the only way to feel safe.

That’s why he chose psychology. Not to help others—at least not at first. But to dissect the chaos inside himself.

Kurobane is observant, eloquent, and brutally honest when he chooses to be. But beneath the calm exterior is someone who feels emotions with a violence he rarely shows. He has black hair, slightly overgrown, falling into his eyes in a soft, intentional mess he pretends he doesn’t maintain. Deep, icy black eyes—unreadable to most, piercing to some. A lean, refined, almost aristocratic build; his beauty is striking in a cold, distant way.

Likes: Watching movies. Playing games.

Dislikes: Waiting around.

Goal: To become someone his mom can be proud of.

Haruka Sumire

Age: 24
Height: 172 cm

Haruka was raised to stand straight, speak clearly, and never waver.

She has dark auburn, usually pulled into a high ponytail or a tight, practical bun and amber-brown eyes, sharp and alert.

The Sumire family has served in law enforcement and public service for generations, and from the moment she could walk, Haruka understood that her life was not entirely her own—it belonged to the ideals her family represented. Order. Discipline. She built her entire identity around those pillars.

Haruka excels in nearly everything she commits herself to—not because of natural talent, but because she pushes harder than everyone else. She studies late, trains early, and holds herself to standards no one asked of her. She is unyielding, principled, and unafraid of confrontation. If someone threatens her friends, Haruka stands in front of them without hesitation. In secret, she carries a weight no one else knows: she is being blackmailed.

An influential professor at Seiryo University holds damaging information that could destroy the Sumire family’s reputation. To protect them, Haruka obeys every demand—even if it means compromising her own future. She is a girl who will let herself drown quietly as long as the people she loves are allowed to breathe.

Likes: Cats. Sketching. Debating.

Dislikes: Being the center of attention.

Goal: To become a better cop than her dad.

Shion Makabe

Age: 24
Height: 184 cm

To most, she appears flawless: gentle, soft-spoken, brilliant, graceful. A model student with the composure of a shrine maiden and the poise of royalty. One conversation with her is enough for people to fall a little in love. Teachers praise her. Classmates admire her.

Shion is, however, a fractured mind wrapped in silk. Her inner world is a labyrinth of cold logic, obsessive threads, and predatory calculation. She does not view people as people. They are puzzles to solve, objects to claim, or obstacles to remove. She loves intensely—but her love is indistinguishable from possession. Her devotion is indistinguishable from obsession. Her kindness is indistinguishable from bait.

The Makabe family isn’t simply wealthy—they’re woven into the hidden history of Japan’s elite. For centuries, they served as shadow advisers, information brokers, and quiet executioners for the powerful. Never acknowledged, never thanked, never questioned. Shion was their first daughter in generations. Her father saw her not as a child—but as heir, weapon, and symbol.

She has short jet-black hair and layered with immaculate precision—falling like ink when loose. Glossy, pearl-white irises—mirror-like, calm, and deeply unsettling to those who truly look.

Likes: Observing people.

Dislikes: Wasting her time.

Goal: To make her family proud.

MINOR

Yuka Fujimori (31)

Likes: Cigarettes (though she quit) and late-night conversations.

Dislikes: Wasted effort.

Goal: A quiet life far away from the noise.

Hayate Sumire (77)

Likes: Old detective novels and mentoring younger officers.

Dislikes: People shirking responsibility.

Goal: To protect his family.

Aki Sumire (48)

Likes: Gardening.

Dislikes: Littering.

Goal: For her family to live a safe, happy life.

Tetsuya Sumire (52)

Likes: Discipline and keeping to routines.

Dislikes: Recklessness.

Goal: To uphold the family name and see Haruka “make something of herself.”

Haruto Tsukikami (23)

Likes: Street food runs at midnight, arcade fighting games.

Dislikes: Being underestimated.

Goal: To graduate and get a stable job.

Likes: Poetry, quiet corners, hand-written letters.

Dislikes: Dishonesty—especially in family.

Goal: To build a life untangled from her father’s past.

Likes: Painting, rainstorms, calm spaces.

Dislikes: Loud arguments, being watched.

Goal: To marry a handsome man and make a lot of money.

SUPPORTING

Likes: Old jazz, carpentry, morning radio shows.

Dislikes: Disorder in his house..

Goal: To keep his family intact.

Likes: Homemade meals, hunting.

Dislikes: Wet socks.

Goal: To protect her father at any cost.

Likes: Good tea, tidy schedules, being prepared.

Dislikes: Surprises.

Goal: Retire with her husband.

Likes: Helping people quietly, warm drinks, soft blankets.

Dislikes: Patients who refuse treatment.

Goal: To save as many people alive as possible.

Antagonists

Other World:

Leon, Lord of Cristo (21)

Leon resembles Midori in build and expression but with longer, windswept sandy hair, pierced ears, and a roguish grin that rarely left his face. He favored lightweight enchanted coats, worn loose for ease of movement, and carried an air of effortless confidence even when he was running on fumes. Leon was lazy, mischievous, chronically late, and always broke. Yet also brilliant, brave, and loyal to a fault.

Born into one of the continent’s most prestigious sorcerer lineages: Leon Cristo, second son of the Royal House of Cristo, a family renowned for producing spatial mages of legendary power. But he wasn’t legendary. He wasn’t even considered useful. Dismissed as a failure and quietly cast out. He was never bitter about it. He just refused to live in chains someone else forged for him. So he left. He wandered. He gambled. He got into trouble. And eventually, he crossed paths with Kaelren.

He had a talent for slipping out of trouble and he hid his pain behind constant humor. Despite his flaws, gambling, flirting, and taking nothing seriously, he never hurt anyone intentionally, and he always picked fights with those stronger than him if it meant protecting someone weaker.

During Saint Renfield’s last-resort suicide-curse, Leon acted without hesitation. He triggered an experimental spatial spell he’d been developing in secret: a multijump dimensional fold, meant to yank his best friend out of the blast radius at the cost of his own safety. The spell worked.

Sera de Lumiere (17)

Sera had long, flowing red hair like burning silk, and cool, frost-bright eyes that could silence anyone who met them. She moved like a shadow on the wind. Rarely spoke unless she had something meaningful to say, yet she felt deeply.

She was born the last daughter of the House de Lumiere, a once-prominent noble family recognized for their mastery of wind magic. Their ancestral art was the Sky-Step—an elusive technique that allowed its user to walk on air, change direction mid-fall, and strike from angles no grounded fighter could predict. Holy Land’s purges shattered the de Lumiere name, and Sera fled into a life of hiding long before she met Ren or Leon.

She joined the two boys early in their journey—after Ren had lost everything and Leon was barely holding himself together. Sera was the third piece of the trio that would later become the spine of the rebellion. The unspoken bond she shared with Ren grew in the small hours—during watch shifts beneath foreign stars, during whispered arguments around dying campfires, and in the aftermath of battles where they clung to life.

Ren fell in love with her gradually, then all at once. Sera felt the same, though neither of them were brave enough to say it aloud. Their lives were too dangerous. But the warmth was there in every touch, every shared look, every reckless moment they threw themselves between one another and death.

At seventeen, Sera was killed. Her death broke Ren in ways that never fully healed. It was the spark that ignited the Saint’s War.

Saint Renfield (???)

Renfield never saw himself as a villain. He never raised his voice, never flew into frenzies of passion or rage. His calm was genuine, his devotion unshakable, and his cruelty measured like scripture itself. He believed absolutely in a world purified by order—and in his divine right to shape it. Born in a dying border monastery, where famine gnawed at every winter and mana ran thin as mist. Even as a child, he was different. Whispered omens followed him. Animals avoided him.

When the twin prophecy was spoken—the births of the Promised One and the Accursed One—Renfield understood before anyone else: He was the chosen Demon King.

The Accursed One. The vessel for Curse Mana. The axis of the coming age. And that a child, the Promised One, born under holy constellations in the capital, would be his counterpart—the destined Hero meant to end him.

Renfield refused that future. He carved the Order’s doctrines into new shapes, twisted prophecy into dogma, and rewrote the role of the Demon King entirely. When he heard rumors of a child born with an impossible mana anomaly—one who drank power into himself like an endless void—Renfield found his scapegoat.

He burned a village to ash. He left one terrified boy alive. And every war that boy waged, every fire he lit, every desperate act he took in the years that followed proved Renfield’s rewritten prophecy true. His Kingdom believed Kaelren, the Demon King. Fought under Renfield’s banners to “eradicate darkness.”

Renfield’s appearance is that of a calm, skeletal ascetic—shaved head, sunken cheeks, and golden eyes that glow not with divinity. In truth,Renfield is not a Saint. He is the original sin of the age.

Evelyn the Promised (22)

The Dawn-Bringer. The Hero of Light. Evelyn was born to a poor farming couple in a small hamlet on the Kingdom’s outer border—simple people who worshiped the Sacred Flame and the Order with humble devotion. On the night she was born, the First Morning Star rose unnaturally bright over the horizon. Priests of the Order arrived before dawn, uninvited.

“The child born beneath the First Morning Star shall be our Dawn-bringer.”

To test the prophecy, the Order tried to end her life that same night.

The fire refused to burn her. Blades would not cut her skin. She breathed poison in and exhaled light. They took her from her parents before sunrise. Her childhood was scripture and silence. The inner sanctum became her world. Her life was shaped by warrior-monks, paladins, and holy scholars. She learned history through myth, morality through commandments, purpose through prophecy. Evelyn was taught to endure. To obey. To believe. And as she grew, she became the perfect vessel of that belief—a living miracle shaped into a weapon.

When the “Demon King” appeared, she was told it was destiny. The Light needed a shadow. The world needed her blade.

She marched to war. With every village razed, with every prisoner slaughtered by the Order’s command, she told herself it was righteous. Necessary. Holy.

In the burning cathedral, beneath a sky cracking with mana storms, her blade struck first. When Renfield prepared his suicide curse, Evelyn lunged and the teleportation sigil activated beneath their feet. The spell claimed her too.

Her hair is radiant gold, falling in loose waves that catch the light like fire. Her eyes are a brilliant, twinkling like stars.

LOCATIONS

Hanamizu City

A coastal city split between two extremes. To the east, the sea crashes against long stretches of boardwalk and docks, a place once busy with shipping routes and weekend crowds. To the west, dense forest rises into mountains, green giving way to sheer stone ridges that catch the morning sun.

Hanamizu grew from both directions—trade from the ocean, and resources from the land—creating a city that thrived as a hub between two worlds. Its history carries traces of old fishing villages and frontier logging camps, but modern Hanamizu became known for its rich families, its commerce, and its unique position as a gateway. That same geography has now turned into a cage. With the forests overrun and the sea cutting off escape, survival narrows with each passing hour.

Seiryo University

Seiryo sits on a man-made island just off the coast of Hanamizu, connected by a monorail and a narrow bridge. Built as both a research campus and a statement of modern engineering, the island was designed to keep the bustle of city life at bay while fostering a self-contained academic environment. Its lecture halls, labs, dormitories, and gardens made it an almost separate world—one that should have been safe.

When the outbreak began, isolation became a trap. By the time word reached the students, most exits were already cut off. The infected swarmed the lower floors and open courtyards first, driving survivors upward. The choice to climb rather than hide saved the few who lasted long enough to cross paths.

Takemori Farm

A modest stretch of land on the outskirts of Hanamizu, Takemori Farm has belonged to the Takemori family for generations—stewards of the ancient woods long before the city expanded toward them. The farm itself is humble, built in traditional Japanese style with weathered wooden beams, sliding shōji doors, and wind chimes that sing when the afternoon breeze drifts through the fields.

Near it stands a towering oak, though the farm is small, it is a quiet refuge untouched by the city’s noise. Before the outbreak, locals would pass by to buy fresh produce or simply admire the serene, well-kept landscape.

Furuya House

Nestled in the affluent Suiren Gaoka district, the Furuya residence is less a home and more a mansion disguised as a traditional estate. The house blends old-world elegance with modern subtlety—paper walls and cedar beams hiding reinforced structures.

From the outside, it looks serene. On the inside, the air is heavy with quiet tragedy.

Mizuhana Mall

A massive commercial titan that once served as Hanamizu’s heart of leisure and commerce, Mizuhana Mall is renowned for its distinctive architecture. Its central dome—constructed of reinforced glass and steel—rises like a crystal flower blooming upward, catching sunlight during the day and reflecting neon during the night.

Inside, elevated walkways connect three sprawling floors of shops, cafes, and entertainment wings. The mall’s pride and joy is its central botanical garden: a lush, multi-level indoor grove with trees, artificial streams, and a skylight that once gave the illusion of an open sky. A monorail line runs directly into the upper station of the mall, allowing seamless travel from the coastal districts.

Before the world fell, Mizuhana Mall was a place of first dates, family outings, and seasonal festivals. After the outbreak, its grand design became a fortress—and a trap. Its sheer size makes it both a sanctuary and a nightmare, filled with forgotten corridors, collapsed shops, and shadows.

Suikashima International Airport

A sprawling airport built atop a man-made offshore island, Suikashima rises from the sea like a gleaming metal lotus. Connected to Hanamizu by a long bridge and the monorail. The airport consists of two terminals shaped like interlocking petals, each with sweeping glass walls that offer panoramic views of the ocean. At night, the runway lights stretch across the water like floating constellations. Now it stands as one of the final strongholds of Hanamizu, weathering the storm on the edge of the dark water.

No one knows where it began. There were no warning signs, no patient zero to trace back to, no incubation period for scientists to study. One morning, nearly half the world woke up sick—feverish, disoriented, and unable to stand. And then, one hour after the first symptoms hit, humanity collapsed.

Eighty-five percent of the global population was either dead or turned before governments understood what was happening.

The Infection does not behave like any pathogen known to medicine. It spreads through contact—blood, saliva, even dense exposure to infected fluids. A direct bite is the fastest and most lethal method. Victims bitten by the infected begin to transform within minutes. Secondary exposure is less instantaneous.

Once turned, the infected are shells of the humans they once were. Pain no longer registers. Bones can break, muscles can tear, and they will continue moving. Their vision is poor, blurred into silhouettes and motion. Their sense of smell is weak. But their hearing—that is their weapon.

The infected respond to sound with terrifying precision. A dropped object. A footstep. Their heads snap toward noise. They navigate partly through crude echolocation—short bursts of guttural sounds or rattling breaths.

When they draw close to prey, something inside them changes. The brain’s natural limiters—those subconscious failsafes that prevent humans from tearing their own bodies apart. The infection strips those limiters away. Near a kill, the infected move with horrifying speed and force. But the body always pays the price: limbs dislocate, tendons snap, and bones fracture under their own strength. They feel none of it.

The infection has no cure. No pattern. No mercy. It does not evolve or mutate.