KENJI
December 13th, 9:30 PM
Seoul
The silence in my room is a lie. It's not silent at all. Through the wall, I can hear the low, steady murmur of Tokito's voice—probably on the phone with Nemu, reassuring her, using those easy, comforting words that seem to come so naturally to him. Farther away, the more clipped, formal tones of Shinki on a conference call, no doubt putting out another financial fire.
And then there's me.
Lying on my back on a bed that's too large, in a suite that's too empty. My arm is draped over my eyes, blocking out the sterile hotel light, trying to block out everything. But I can't block out the noise in my head.
It's been two fucking days.
The new phone, a sleek, black replacement for the one I shattered in Tokyo, sits on the nightstand. Fully charged. Signal strong. Her number is at the top of the contacts list, a single tap away.
