The car door slammed shut with a heavy echo that seemed to swallow the air between them. Yui sat in silence, her pulse unsteady, her fingers still trembling from the chaos of the last hour. Beside her, Haruto leaned back, one hand pressed casually against the side of his jaw, his phone glowing against his pale skin.
His face was unreadable. The same man who had bled through his hands minutes ago now sat there — calm, composed, like none of it mattered.
Outside, the city blurred past in streaks of orange and white, headlights carving through the rain-soaked night. Inside the car, the atmosphere was thick — wordless, charged.
Then Haruto spoke.Low. Cold. Precise."Do you like Riku?"
Yui's head snapped up.For a second, she couldn't breathe. "W–what?"
Haruto didn't look at her. His eyes remained on the screen, scrolling through messages as though asking her name instead of slicing through her chest."I asked you a question." His tone sharpened slightly. "Do you like my brother?"
"I—It's not like that," she stammered. Her voice cracked somewhere between fear and disbelief. "He just… helps me. He's kind—"
That single word made Haruto's gaze flicker — just for a second — before he turned toward her.
The light from the street cut through the tinted glass, painting his face in fractured shadows. His expression was calm, but his eyes — those eyes — burned with something darker.
Without warning, he moved.In one fluid motion, Haruto leaned forward, pinning Yui against the seat. His hand gripped the side of her face — not harshly, but firmly enough to make her freeze. The other braced beside her head as he hovered dangerously close.
"Do you know what happens," he murmured, voice so quiet it was almost a whisper, "to people who try to take my place, Yui?"
Her breath hitched. She wanted to look away, but couldn't. His gaze anchored her — sharp, cruel, yet laced with something hauntingly human beneath the surface.
"I don't mind," he continued, almost conversationally, "if you like somebody. It's your life."
He paused, then tilted his head, his lips curving into something that wasn't quite a smile. "But at the end, he won't survive."
The words weren't shouted. They didn't need to be.They crawled into her ears, cold and deliberate.
"W–what do you mean?" she whispered.Haruto's hand slipped from her face, dragging down her jawline as he leaned back. "Exactly what it sounds like."
Yui's mind spun. Images flashed—Riku shielding her from the gang, Haruto's bloodied hands, the madness in his laughter. And now this—That warning wasn't an exaggeration. It was a promise.
The car slowed. The driver's voice broke the silence. "Miss Yui's stop."
Yui swallowed hard, fumbling for the handle. Her fingers shook as she pushed the door open, the cool air hitting her face like a slap. She turned back, trying to steady her voice. "Haruto… why—"
"Tell Shoji to stay at home," Haruto cut in without looking at her. "Instead of wasting time playing games."
Her breath froze mid-sentence.How did he—?
But before she could ask, the car had already pulled away, taillights vanishing into the dark, leaving her standing alone on the quiet street, her pulse drumming in her throat.
Yui stared after it, the name Shoji echoing in her mind. Haruto's reach was deeper than she ever imagined — even her brother's world wasn't untouched.
She clutched the strap of her sling bag tighter.What are you, Haruto?
Meanwhile, miles away, another world unfolded.
Inside a secluded parking structure, Haruto's car rolled to a stop. The heavy silence inside fractured as his phone began to buzz — an unlisted number flashing across the screen.
He answered without hesitation.A rough, older voice filled the space. "You didn't do the right thing, Haruto. You beat my men half-dead."
Haruto leaned back, staring out through the windshield. Rain dripped slowly down the glass, distorting the city lights into shapeless golds and reds. "Your men shouldn't have followed someone who wasn't part of your game," he replied, voice low, detached.
"You think you can lecture me?" the man snapped. "You know what I'm capable of. I know who you care about… and how to use them. The top model, Izumi. She still calls you, doesn't she?"
The faint sound of laughter came from Haruto's end.Not the carefree kind — it was soft, almost eerie."You got a nice imagination," he murmured, lips curving. "But you got the wrong person."
The man on the other side hesitated."Don't test me, boy—"
Click.
Haruto ended the call mid-sentence.
He leaned back against the seat, resting his elbow on the window frame. The rain's rhythm against the car filled the silence. He stared at his reflection in the glass — faint, distorted, unrecognizable.
He whispered to himself, barely audible, "You still don't get it, do you?"
Outside, thunder rolled somewhere distant. The city pulsed with life — laughter, engines, the faint hum of neon. But inside that car, Haruto's world was silent. The phone vibrated again, another message flashing briefly on the screen.
From: Unknown
"You're losing control."
For a moment, something flickered in his eyes — a shadow of doubt, or pain, or both. Then it was gone.He slid the phone into his pocket, exhaled, and started the car again.
Yui, meanwhile, stood by her apartment door, the sound of the engine still ringing in her ears. Her knees felt weak. She pressed her palm against the cold metal of the doorknob, trying to steady her breath.
He knows about Shoji. He knows everything.
The memory of his words — "He won't survive" — replayed over and over until it tangled into something that felt like guilt.
Once inside, she sank to the floor, her reflection trembling faintly in the window glass. For a long time, she didn't move. The night stretched endlessly — a quiet storm building in the distance, unseen but inevitable.
She didn't realize she was crying until the first tear fell.
Far across town, Haruto dismissed his men and then drove past the empty bridges of the lower district, one hand on the wheel, the other still faintly bandaged from the knife wound. His mind replayed the look on Yui's face — fear, confusion, pity.
That last one hurt most.
He hated pity. It reminded him of weakness — of being seen.
And yet…When she had grabbed his hand earlier, guiding him to the taxi, something broke.Something small.Something he didn't know still existed inside him.
Her warmth had lingered — a simple, human touch in a world where every connection he made came with a cost.
He pulled the car over by the riverside, resting his forehead against the steering wheel, the rain thudding against the windshield.
For once, Haruto didn't smirk. Didn't mock. Didn't hide.
He just sat there, breathing slowly, as if trying to remember what it meant to feel something without destroying it.
But the peace didn't last long.
His phone buzzed again — this time a message from one of his own men.
"Boss, about Yuki… we heard she's been behind this."
Haruto's head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing.For a few seconds, he said nothing. Then he exhaled through a laugh, quiet and sharp.
"She wants the game to be interesting," he whispered.
He started the engine once more, the red glow of the dashboard cutting through the darkness.
The smirk returned — that familiar, dangerous curve that meant trouble was coming.
"Let the game continue," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the rain.