I hadn’t slept.

  Not because I couldn’t, but because every time I closed my eyes, my mind tried to finish something it didn’t have the right pieces for yet.

  The house. The silence. The absence.

  Tatsuya sat across from me at the table, already on his third cup of coffee. He hadn’t slept either, but unlike me, he was calm, calculating. Watching. Thinking.

  “The government won’t move,” he said. “Not unless this becomes public or personal.”

  I didn’t answer.

  My phone buzzed. Unknown number.

  Tatsuya noticed before I even reached for it. “That’s not coincidence.”

  I answered. Static. Then a voice, smooth and unhurried.

  “You’re slower than I expected.”

  The call cut.

  A message followed immediately. A location pin.

  Tatsuya leaned in, eyes narrowing. “Industrial block. Half-abandoned. No cameras listed on city records.”

  “A setup,” I said.

  “Yes,” he agreed. “And a deliberate one.”

  We went anyway.

  The building looked dead from the outside. No lights. No sound. One door ajar, swaying slightly in the wind.

  Inside, the smell hit first. Blood. Old and fresh mixed together. Metal. Disinfectant, oddly enough.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Tatsuya stopped me with a hand before I could step fully inside. He crouched, scanning the floor. “Dragged,” he said quietly. “But not randomly. Whoever did this wanted marks left behind.”

  The lights flickered on as we moved deeper, motion sensors still alive for reasons I didn’t like.

  That’s when I saw her.

  Ayame was bound to a chair at the far end of the hall, wrists and ankles raw and bleeding. Her uniform was torn, soaked dark with bruises and burns layered precisely, deliberately. Someone had taken their time.

  She was breathing. Barely.

  I dropped to my knees beside her, hands glowing as recovery magic poured out. Nothing happened at first.

  Panic surged.

  I pushed harder, faster. The glow intensified, trembling under strain. The bleeding slowed. Not stopped, but slowed enough for her to survive.

  Her head lifted with effort. One eye swollen shut, the other struggling to focus.

  “…you,” she gasped.

  “Don’t talk,” I said sharply. “Help’s coming.”

  She gave a faint, almost apologetic smile. “Figures. You’d show up eventually.”

  Tatsuya crouched beside us, examining the walls and ceiling. “This wasn’t meant to kill her,” he said quietly. “Not yet.”

  I looked at him. “What?”

  He pointed above her.

  Carved into the ceiling directly overhead were letters, shallow but deliberate, etched with care. I read them slowly.

  LOOK HOW CLOSE YOU WERE.

  The meaning hit me instantly. Not close to losing her by accident. Close to losing her because he had timed it. Because he wanted me to know that if I had been slower, if I had hesitated, if I had waited for permission, she would have been gone.

  I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as the recovery magic wrapped around her, holding just enough to buy time until help arrived.

  Ayame followed my gaze weakly. “He… kept asking about you,” she murmured. “Didn’t care who I was. Just… that you saved me once.”

  My jaw tightened.

  “He said you protect strangers,” she whispered. “Said it makes you predictable.”

  Tatsuya straightened. “Ambulance in two minutes. You bought her time.”

  Two minutes felt like forever.

  My phone buzzed again. A message.

  Not dead. Yet.

  I’m not finished talking to you.

  I didn’t reply. I just stared at the screen, something sharp and coiling slowly in my chest.

  Ayame was alive. But this was still a message.

  I understood it perfectly.

  From somewhere deep inside, a quiet laugh escaped me. Not loud. Not manic. Just broken.

  “Then he picked the wrong opponent,” I said softly.

  The sirens grew louder. Somewhere far away, unseen and patient, someone watched the scene unfold and waited for my next move.

  The game had begun.