Prologue
Midas, the city that never sleeps. As its translucent lights shimmered through the ever lively streets, people prowled the streets in search of pleasure and entertainment, time is all within their grasp. They drink through the night and drown themselves in worldly pleasure, oblivious to anything but their own desires.
It has been a year since the collapse of the old building, Dana-Bahn. The building that once housed the rebellion that turned Ceres into the slums it is today suddenly exploded and gave way, bringing down part of Midas's great city with it. The incident however was covered up with mere excuses by the elites and the damaged districts were repaired. Everything went back to how it was and soon, people began to forget.
The incident was no longer mentioned in the daily gossips of Midas's citizens. The topic died down and was soon forgotten. Yet only a few would still remember, a memory carved into the back of their minds….
It was certainly not early, nor was it late. Yet however, a certain person slowly made his way through the dimly-lit corridors of Eos tower, not in a hurry to be anywhere in particular. His footsteps echoed through the silence, his face fixed on a blank expression as he ponders through the contents of his thought.
His whole being felt light, fresh, as expected of a newly constructed body. Out of reasons he could not recall, his memories had been transferred into this new body only a month ago.
Iason Mink stared at his gloved palm; everything felt the same to him regardless. This is what it meant to be a blondy, a being far more superior to the humans, the elites of the elites.
Iason had woken up one day in Raoul Am's laboratory, noticing the change almost immediately. As to why, he did not bother questioning, there was no need to. Iason was soon clothed and was up and about again.
"A blondy is a superior being," is what they always say "There is no point to attempt assassination for they can always be reborn,"
Superior as he is, there is however one thing that clouds Iason's thoughts. A gap of void in his transferred memory here and there, questions he couldn't answer. Has the data of his previous being been corrupted that even Raoul could not fix?
Alas, even Raoul did not intend to answer this for that would be an acknowledgement of his lack of power, one thing a prideful elite blondy such as him would not dare admit.
So the question was soon pushed to the back of Iason Mink's mind, suppress by daily problems the system faced and heavy workloads expected from the head of the syndicate.
"As of Jupiter's wish," the blondy sighed. He knew that one day he would confront his friend again about the lack of memory but for now he would let it slide.