Izumi stood frozen, her trembling hands still clutching the broken vase.
Haruto lay motionless for a moment, head bleeding, his hair matted against his temple. The quiet hum of the city lights outside felt deafening, as if time had stopped.
"H-Haruto?" Izumi whispered, voice shaking as she crouched near him. Her hand reached for his shoulder.
In one swift movement, his hand shot up.
Before she could react, Haruto had pinned her down, his body heavy against hers, the glint in his eyes turning sharp and wild. His hand pressed against her wrist, pinning it to the carpeted floor.
"Did you really think," he hissed, voice low and cold, "that I wouldn't know?"
Izumi's breath hitched. "W-What are you—?"
Haruto leaned closer, his gaze unflinching. "That you'd never come near me again after what you did. Cheating Kato's son with me? You think they'd let that slide?"
She tried to shake her head, tears spilling down. "No, Haruto, listen—"
"I knew they sent you," he interrupted, tone flat, almost bored, as though he were discussing the weather. "You were always too good at playing both sides."
He stood abruptly, pulling her up with him by the collar of her dress. The fear in her eyes was raw, human. But Haruto's expression didn't change.
His men entered through the suite door — tall, silent figures in black. One of them spoke quietly, "Boss?"
"Take her," Haruto ordered, his voice void of warmth. "Make sure the media sees her post something cheerful — say she's going on a vacation."
"Yes, sir."
As they grabbed Izumi's arm, Haruto stepped closer one last time. He brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, his touch disturbingly gentle. "Izumi," he murmured, his tone almost soft. "You should've known better than to play with my enemies."
Her eyes widened — regret, confusion, terror — and then she was gone, dragged down the hall as Haruto wiped the blood from his temple with his sleeve.
He exhaled deeply, the weight of everything suddenly returning. Then, calm again, he reached for his phone.
He dialed the number that had sent him the messages. The line connected.
He said coldly, his voice a razor edge, "If you lay one more finger on them, don't complain later when you lose every single one."
A silence.
Then faint laughter from the other side. "Still pretending you care, Kuroya?"
Haruto's smirk twitched. "I don't pretend."
He hung up.
Blood still trickled down his face, but he didn't care. His pulse stayed even, steady, as he dialed another number.
"Shoji," he said, his tone clipped but urgent. "Trace Yui's phone. It's still active — I want her location, now."
The voice on the other side stammered, "Y-yes, sir. On it."
The night was thick and humid. Haruto's car cut through the empty roads like a blade. His head throbbed, blood matting his collar, but he didn't slow down.
He reached the location sent from the unknown number — the Kuroya Mansion.
When he stepped out of the car, he heard laughter echoing faintly from the garden. Not a cry for help — laughter.
Haruto's eyes narrowed.
He followed the sound and saw Riku sitting in the backyard, controller in hand, playing games with a group of his friends, through the TV screen.
Riku and his friends were watched over by Kato's men.
"What the hell is this…" Haruto muttered, confusion flashing across his features.
Before he could speak, a group of unfamiliar men appeared behind him from the shadows — Kato's men.
"End of the line, Kuroya," one sneered.
Haruto sighed, rolling his shoulders back. "You really picked the wrong night."
The first one lunged at him. Haruto sidestepped, elbowing him hard in the ribs, then slammed his head against the wall. Another swung a bat — Haruto caught it midair, twisted it free, and struck him across the jaw. The sound of cracking bone filled the night air.
Blood sprayed. One man staggered backward. Haruto's breathing grew heavy but steady, like a predator pacing in rhythm.
They kept coming.
He kept hitting.
Every move was precise — efficient, merciless. It wasn't rage that drove him. It was a focus. Cold, lethal focus.
At last, only one was left — the one who'd been giving orders. Haruto grabbed him by the collar and slammed him into the wall.
"Where is she?" Haruto demanded, his voice quiet, dangerous.
The man laughed, spitting blood. "You think you can save everyone? Fool."
Haruto pressed the edge of the broken bat against his neck, eyes burning. "Try me."
The man only grinned wider — but before he could speak, Haruto's phone buzzed.
A message from Shoji.
"Found the signal. It's near the school. Sending exact coordinates."
Haruto dropped the man and turned away, ignoring his cackling.
His car roared to life again.
Shoji stood by the main gate, panting. He looked exhausted, blood rolling down like sweat from his temples. "Her phone's here," he said as Haruto approached. "But… It's inside her bag in the classroom. I checked everywhere — she's not in the building."
Haruto's eyes scanned the surroundings, sharp and calculating. "No signs of struggle?"
"None," Shoji replied.
A faint glimmer caught Haruto's attention near the library steps — small, scattered beads rolling against the concrete.
He crouched down.
It was a bracelet. Broken, shattered — but familiar.
Haruto picked up the pieces one by one, his expression unreadable. Then his fingers paused on a tiny engraved bead — a symbol he'd had custom-made for her weeks ago.
"Yui," he whispered under his breath.
Shoji frowned. "What happened?"
Haruto's eyes flickered toward the nearby fence. "There's an old building beside the campus. It used to be part of the storage wing before it was sealed."
Understanding dawned on Shoji's face. "The basement."
They didn't wait. They ran.
The air inside was damp and cold, thick with the smell of dust and rusting pipes. Faint noises echoed — creaks, drips, a faraway metallic clang.
Shoji and Haruto moved through the shadows, flashlights cutting thin lines through the dark.
Then — voices.
Men's voices.
Shoji gestured silently, motioning Haruto toward the left hall. Two figures stood near the stairwell, their backs turned. Shoji launched forward first, striking one with the butt of his flashlight. The other spun around, pulling a knife, but Haruto was faster — he caught the man's wrist, twisted it until the knife dropped, then slammed his knee into the man's stomach.
The man fell, wheezing.
Haruto didn't even glance at him. His eyes were fixed on the faint light seeping from beneath a metal door at the end of the corridor.
He pushed it open.
The room was small — concrete walls, one flickering bulb, and in the middle of it — Yui.
Tied to a chair, wrists red from the ropes, head slumped forward.
"Yui," Haruto breathed, crossing the room in seconds. His hands were steady, but his heartbeat was not.
He untied her quickly, fingers brushing her skin. "Hey," he said softly, shaking her shoulders. "Wake up."
Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused. Then recognition dawned — confusion, relief, disbelief all at once. "H… Haruto?"
He exhaled, a faint smirk curving his lips despite the blood drying on his temple. "Yeah. You're safe now."
Outside, Shoji's voice echoed — "We need to go!"
Haruto lifted Yui in his arms. Her head rested against his shoulder, her breathing slow but steady. The world around them blurred — dust, footsteps, muffled noise — all fading into the background.
He carried her out, Shoji clearing the way.
The city had quieted down again by the time they reached home. Shoji unlocked the door, worry etched on his face.
Haruto carried Yui to the couch and gently set her down. Her hair stuck to her face, her pulse faint but calm.
Shoji brought a blanket. "She'll be okay," he said. "Probably sedated."
Haruto nodded, glancing once more at the broken bracelet in his palm. His thumb brushed over the bead, the engraved mark catching the faint light.
"She shouldn't have been dragged into this," he muttered.
Shoji hesitated. "And yet… she's the only one who makes you human."
Haruto didn't answer. He stood, looking out the window at the quiet city below — the world still moving, unaware of how close he'd come to losing everything he never admitted he cared for.