Just as Mia's soft fingers brushed against his thigh, pulling him dangerously close to the edge of the forbidden, Sanemi's phone buzzed again. The sudden vibration, a cold, metallic shock—made him flinch violently, his heart leaping as though fate itself had physically intervened. He grabbed the device with a jerky motion, pressing it to his ear before Mia could register his panic.
"Mom? … Yeah, I'll come right away!" he blurted out, pitching his voice louder than necessary, deliberately making the conversation sound urgent and public.
He forced a nervous, apologetic smile at Mia, hoping his clumsy performance would sell the lie. Maybe this will save me, he thought, desperate for an escape route from the velvet trap.
Mia tilted her head, her smirk curving like a blade of polished steel. "So soon?" she asked, her voice light, playful, and utterly lacking in real concern. "You're leaving me… already?"
There was no anger in her tone, just the faintest, most unsettling disappointment, and that unnerved him more than outright rage would have. Her lack of surprise made him doubt his own cleverness.
Sanemi forced a laugh, which sounded hollow even to his own ears. "I… I'll come by again. Promise." He rose too fast, the quick movement almost knocking his knee against the glass table. His body felt stiff, awkward, like a puppet whose strings had been abruptly tangled.
"Careful," Mia murmured behind him, her eyes watching his every jerky move, her voice dripping with an unreadable, possessive quality.
Sanemi managed a sharp nod, kept the terrified smile plastered on his face, and practically fled toward the door. Only when the lock clicked shut behind him did his lungs finally expand. He drew in a sharp, rattling breath and exhaled hard, as though he had just stumbled free from the jaws of a predator. His shirt clung damp against his back; the sweat chilling instantly in the cool corridor air.
Outside, the rain had stopped, leaving the pavement slick and glistening like black glass. The sky had cracked open, and the sun broke through in sharp, clean streaks against the wet earth. He tilted his head back, the cold air biting at his skin, trying to calm the frantic, pounding rhythm of his chest.
He put the phone to his ear again. Rina's text was the lifeline, but he needed a convincing reason for the fake call.
"Finally! You picked up. Where are you?" Rina's voice came through the speaker.
Sanemi's voice was hoarse, uneven. "Around… I was just… busy."
"Busy with what?" Her tone was light, teasing, but it needled him all the same. He couldn't shake the feeling that she was probing, though entirely innocently.
"Doesn't matter. Why did you call me?"
"Because I missed you. And I want to see you. Now. I'm in town."
Her words cut through his haze like a sudden, cleansing gust of wind. "Right now? That's… so sudden," he said, blinking at the unexpected demand.
But in his mind, a wave of clarity washed over the fear. Maybe I should go. After all, she just saved me—without even knowing it. She is the anchor.
"Okay," he said finally, with a long, stabilizing exhale. "Tell me where you are."
Her voice brightened immediately. He didn't head home. He couldn't. The thought of walking back into those four walls—the memory of Mia's unblinking eyes, the light, possessive touch of her hand—it made his pulse spike again. He needed to get away, to detoxify his mind with the simple presence of Rina.
As he descended the building steps, the world around him seemed unreal. What was about to happen in there? My heart is still racing. I didn't even confirm if she's the right Mia. I walked straight into a trap… or maybe into something else entirely. She asked me to be her friend, but then showed me... that.
His phone chimed again. He frowned and unlocked it.
[Time Remaining: 16 hours.]
The mission reminder. The words lit up cold and merciless against the screen, pulling the warmth and hope from his veins. Sixteen hours. The clock was ticking, and he was nowhere near solving the task.
He stopped in the street, frozen. Slowly, he turned his head toward the apartment building. On the second floor, behind the half-drawn sheer curtains of Mia's unit, he thought he saw movement—a pale hand, a shadow, maybe just his panicked imagination. But the sensation was undeniable: someone was watching him leave.
He forced himself to walk away.
Town was buzzing by the time he arrived. The rain had scrubbed the streets clean, and the air smelled faintly of wet asphalt and roasted coffee drifting from nearby shops. He dialed Rina, and she directed him to a lively restaurant—casual, nothing fancy, yet vibrant with the clinking of cutlery and warm chatter.
Odd, he thought, scanning the cheerful chaos. Why here?
Rina was waiting outside, waving when she spotted him. Her face lit up with genuine, uncomplicated joy, but her smile faltered as he drew closer.
"Why do you look so pale?" she asked, her brow furrowing with immediate, honest concern. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you okay?"
Sanemi tried to force a natural smirk. "Do I? Maybe I just forgot how to smile after all that studying."
"Well then," she said, nudging him with her shoulder, her touch light and safe. "Smile now. Come on."
"Why should I? Are we going on a date again?" His words slipped out, half-joking, half-desperate for the simple comfort of the distraction.
Rina giggled softly. "You'll see."
They stepped inside, and the comforting smell of grilled food and butter hit him. But his eyes locked instantly on a table by the window. A woman sat there, elegant and poised, a young boy beside her.
Sanemi slowed, confusion drawing his steps.
"Mom," Rina said with a warm smile, "this is my friend Sanemi."
He froze. Of all the things I expected, this wasn't it. This was a formal introduction to Rina's family.
Rina's mother's smile mirrored Rina's—gentle, disarming, her beauty a clear reflection passed down through blood. "Nice to meet you, Sanemi," she said. Her voice was smooth, cultured, and her gaze held him in place, measuring him with a maternal curiosity.
"Nice… nice to meet you too," he stammered, heat crawling up his neck.
"We were just having lunch," Rina's mother continued, gesturing to the table. "And my daughter suggested inviting you, since you live nearby." Her eyes swept over him briefly before she added, with a twinkle, "You look even better than she described."
"Mom!" Rina groaned, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment.
"Wait—" Kenzo, the little brother, leaned forward with wide, curious eyes. "You're the Sanemi she always talks about? The smart one?"
"Kenzo!" Rina snapped. "Shut up! You're embarrassing me!"
The boy burst into laughter, her mother chuckled, and soon the whole table rippled with comfortable, familial warmth. Everyone laughed—everyone but Sanemi.
He smiled faintly, but his thoughts were a thousand miles away. A mission. Sixteen hours left. I just fled the woman I have to kill, and now I'm sitting with the family of the police chief who is hunting me.
Meanwhile, the air inside the police station felt heavier than smoke. Piles of reports lay scattered like gravestones on the desks. Officers moved sluggishly, faces drawn, each of them carrying the weight of too many unsolved, brutal cases.
"Three more incidents today," one officer muttered, his voice flat with despair. "Same method."
"Same age range," another added grimly. "One's twenty-three. The other two? Both twenty-one. All of them young. All of them gone."
"They had something in common," a third officer murmured, shuffling through papers with tired hands. "Background checks show some overlap, a cryptic shared history. But… it doesn't make sense yet."
Silence pressed down, suffocating. The room smelled of stale coffee and paper dust, of sleepless nights and unwashed uniforms.
Mr. McKay slammed his palm on the table. The sharp sound jolted them all. His eyes were bloodshot, but they burned with a stubborn, primal fire.
"No. We don't drown in new bodies when the last one is still open," he snapped. "We've got leads. We start there. We solve that first. Then the rest. This isn't random. Someone is targeting them."
He pulled out a cigarette, his hands shaking slightly as he lit it. The smoke curled around his tired face, and he exhaled slowly. His voice dropped to a low, powerful growl.
"Every detail. Every connection. Tear it apart until something fits. There's a thread, and we will find it."
The officers exchanged glances, their fatigue momentarily tempered by his raw force. Outside, the wail of sirens cut through the city, a grim reminder: death wasn't slowing down.