It was a bright, painfully cheerful morning—the kind of day theme parks probably paid the sun to advertise. Children shrieked with giddy terror from distant roller coasters, vendors hawked snacks that were far too overpriced, and bubbles floated through the air like the world’s least subtle celebration of capitalism.

  Akio stood with Aira near the entrance, hands tucked in his pockets, pretending not to be mildly embarrassed by the fact that he was here against his will. It had been a day or two since the weapon fiasco—since Aira had nearly blown his identity wide open because she wanted to turn on the TV—and he still wasn’t emotionally recovered. Their older brothers had finally left, Gabriel had settled into his dorm, and Akio had been hoping for at least two days of peace.

  Instead, Aira had won four theme park tickets.

  Of course, she invited Yoru.

  Who, naturally, brought Damien.

  Aira elbowed him sharply. “You better not start arguing with Damien again,” she muttered without looking at him.

  Akio blinked innocently. “I would never.”

  “Mhm,” she deadpanned. “Can you just be normal for once?”

  “I am normal,” he said, voice perfectly even.

  Aira stared at him as if he had just told her he planned to juggle fireworks. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

  Before he could defend himself further, movement in the crowd caught his attention. Two familiar figures emerged from the flow of people: Yoru, bright and shy as always, and beside her—Damien, looking like a mildly annoyed dark wizard forced into sunlight.

  Aira immediately lit up, waving frantically. Yoru’s face brightened as she hurried over. Damien, meanwhile, locked eyes with Akio and stared at him with the weary disappointment of a man who had lived too long and suffered too much.

  Akio inclined his head in greeting. “Ah, Damien. Didn’t think you were the type to enjoy theme parks.”

  Damien didn’t break eye contact. “Please, Avenis. Unlike you, I actually enjoy things that aren’t childish.”

  Akio exhaled a quiet laugh that definitely sounded like a challenge, but before he could retaliate, Aira’s voice cut through sharply—she was too busy hugging Yoru to notice the tension sparking behind her.

  “Bestie!! You’re here! I’m so excited!”

  Yoru practically glowed. “Me too! Thank you for the tickets.”

  Aira beamed. “Of course! Let’s go have fun! We have the whole day!”

  She turned slightly and glanced back over her shoulder. Not at Yoru, but at them—the Problem Duo. Her expression tightened with warning.

  “You two are going to get along… right?”

  Akio and Damien exchanged a sideways glance. A single, shared smirk passed between them—an unspoken, absolutely unanimous understanding.

  Damien said it aloud. “No. Not a chance.”

  Akio nodded. “I concur.”

  Yoru giggled behind her hand. Aira groaned, dragging a palm down her face before she straightened and turned to face forward again.

  “Don’t mind them,” she said to Yoru, enthusiasm creeping back into her voice, “let’s just have fun ourselves.”

  They filtered into the amusement park in a loose formation—the girls naturally drifting ahead, already chatting about which rides to conquer first, while the guys followed several paces behind like two grey clouds politely escorting rays of sunshine. Neither of them spoke at first, their mutual tolerance was thin enough to be considered theoretical.

  Aira suddenly pointed upward with a gasp. “Woah!! Look at that! Let’s go on that ride!”

  Akio followed her finger. The roller coaster towered over the park like a steel spine, the carts climbing to a terrifying height before plummeting in a series of loops that made riders scream with the force of a battlefield chorus.

  Yoru nodded, her voice soft but eager. “Sure.”

  They joined the line, wrapping around metal railings still warm from the sun. Aira and Yoru drifted ahead, dissolving into light, airy conversation—little bursts of laughter, easy smiles, the kind of quiet joy Akio always found strangely grounding.

  He kept his gaze on the roller coaster. His eyes traced the track with calm, clinical precision—calculating velocity, shifts in trajectory, the timing between carts. Vertigo meant nothing to him anymore; his body had been trained out of that instinct long ago. To him, this ride would feel like a gentle breeze.

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  Then he caught movement beside him.

  Damien stood stiffly, arms folded, staring at the roller coaster with the expression of someone analyzing a war crime. His face was unreadable as always, but his eyes narrowed just slightly, as if silently evaluating every bolt in the structure.

  Akio smirked faintly. “Scared of heights?”

  Damien shot him a withering look. “I find it baffling how people find hurtling themselves through the air at lethal speeds entertaining. I prefer activities that actually require thought.”

  Akio hummed, already assembling his counterargument. “Vertigo is one of the four primitive forms of intrinsic play, you know. People chasing physical disorientation—it’s practically biological.”

  Damien scoffed. “Exactly the problem. Vertigo is the easiest one to corrupt. Escapism turns into addiction—alcohol, drugs, all of it. The most harmful form of play is the one that damages the body.”

  Akio tapped his chin dramatically. “Of course. But only without discretion. Roller coasters are controlled forms of play.”

  “Controlled doses,” Damien countered, “are precisely how people spiral. The most effective method is to simply not engage at all.”

  Akio tilted his head. “When are you just going to admit you’re scared?”

  Damien inhaled sharply, but before he could unleash whatever lecture he was about to weaponize, Aira turned around in line.

  She looked between them, utterly exhausted. “You two are giving me a headache. Can you stop yapping about nerd stuff? You’re probably giving Yoru a headache too.”

  Yoru blinked, startled by being dragged into the crossfire. “O–oh. It’s okay,” she said quickly, voice soft. “I don’t mind listening.”

  Akio’s gaze shifted to her.

  She stood just ahead of him in line, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear with shy fingers. Her cheeks were faintly flushed, eyes darting away when he looked at her. She seemed quieter than usual—more hesitant, more delicate around the edges.

  Yoru’s always been a little shy, he reasoned, Probably just the heat. It gets warmer when it’s crowded.

  He lingered on her a second longer before turning his attention back to the looming ride ahead.

  Eventually, it was their turn to board. Up close, the carts looked even more dubious—two seater metal boxes with chipping paint and safety bars that seemed like they had survived one too many summers. Aira and Yoru saw none of this, already climbing in with unfiltered excitement. They settled into the row in front, lowering the bar with eager chatter.

  Which meant… he was left to sit with Damien.

  The other man stood beside the cart staring at it as though it had personally wronged him, expression perfectly blank but radiating the unmistakable aura of a man re-evaluating every life choice that had led him to this moment. Akio eyed him with a dry note of amusement, a small smirk tugging at his mouth.

  “After you,” he said politely, gesturing toward the open seat with an innocence so fake it practically glowed.

  Damien leveled him with a cold, withering glare… then stepped in anyway. Akio followed, settling beside him. The cart was compact—much more compact than either of them would have preferred—and their shoulders pressed together slightly as Akio pulled the shared safety bar down.

  Damien stared straight ahead, posture rigid, expression unreadable. But Akio noticed the faint tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curled a little too tightly around the bar.

  An idea sparked.

  “So,” Akio said lightly, “did you know that most roller coaster related deaths come from equipment malfunction? Loose parts. Structural fatigue. That sort of thing.”

  Damien’s jaw ticked. “This ride is secure,” he replied, voice thin with irritation. “Statistically, we are well within the percentage of passengers who do not die on theme park attractions.”

  “Hmm…” Akio pretended to ponder this. Then he tilted his head, pointing casually toward the floor. “Interesting. Were those screws supposed to be there?”

  Damien froze for a fraction of a second. “There isn’t anything—”

  The roller coaster launched forward so fast the air punched past them in a shrieking gust.

  The world became a blur of color and steel. Riders screamed as the cart rocketed up the first incline, jolted into a sharp turn, then plummeted down a vertical drop with the ferocity of a falling elevator.

  Akio sat perfectly still.

  Not a flinch. Not a sound. His breathing stayed even, his expression calm—as if he were on a gentle morning stroll instead of a high velocity death machine. Years of rooftop chases, free fall drops, and outmaneuvering Echo’s traps had long since deleted his ability to feel fear from mere amusement park physics.

  The ride screamed through loops and corkscrews, then finally shuddered to a stop at the starting platform.

  Akio lifted the safety bar with the serenity of someone stepping off a meditation mat, not a hair out of place, before he cast a smug look at Damien sitting beside him.

  Throughout the entire ride, Damien had remained silent—tense, rigid. He was still gripping the safety bar with both hands, knuckles pale, expression carved into a mask of grim endurance. He looked like a man who had been spiritually tested.

  Akio allowed himself one tiny victory.

  “Pleasant ride,” he said, as if commenting on the weather. “I suppose you were right—we weren’t in the unfortunate percentage.”

  Damien remained seated for an extra beat, blinking slowly as though he had momentarily forgotten how bodies worked. Then he inhaled, composing himself with visible effort. Irritation flickered across his expression.

  “That,” he muttered, “was utterly horrendous.”

  They stepped off the roller coaster, feet hitting solid ground as Aira and Yoru practically bounced ahead of them—laughing, flushed, still high on adrenaline.

  “That was so fun!! That drop was insane!” Aira exclaimed, her voice bright enough to compete with the park speakers.

  Yoru nodded quickly, clutching her bag with both hands. “Yeah! It really was.” Her smile was soft and breathless, cheeks pink from the wind and excitement.

  Akio followed a few steps behind them with Damien, who still looked vaguely offended by gravity. The group drifted toward the photo booth section—rows of mounted screens looping through every cart’s mid fall image.

  Akio scanned the displays automatically. He’d noticed the camera during the ride, of course—hard not to when you’d spent half your life dodging surveillance. Aira and Yoru found their photo first, both of them laughing at their own wide eyed expressions.

  His gaze slid to the next screen.

  And there they were.

  Mid plummet, hair whipping back from the force, the track a blur behind them—Akio sat perfectly serene. Calm, composed, not even a strand of hair out of place, wearing the faintest, most peaceful smile.

  And Damien—

  Damien looked like he was experiencing all five stages of grief simultaneously. His expression was a masterwork of horror, spiritual betrayal, and pure despair. His fingers were a blur, digging into the safety bar like he was trying to bargain with whatever god handled roller coaster casualties.

  The contrast was so extreme Akio nearly doubled over.

  It took everything in his willpower not to burst out laughing. He bit the inside of his cheek, exhaling quietly through his nose, trying—desperately—to maintain composure. Beside him, the murderous pressure radiating from Damien only made it infinitely harder.

  Akio pulled out his phone, his voice trembling just barely when he spoke. “I’m saving this.”

  Damien turned on him with a withering glare sharp enough to cut steel. “It’s worthless.”

  Akio tapped the download button anyway. “It has sentimental value. What do you mean?”

  Damien stared at him for a long, suffering moment—then sighed, resignation settling heavily across his shoulders. “You’re never going to let me live this down.”

  Akio smiled, bright and merciless. “No. Not a chance.”

  Damien groaned under his breath.

  Then the two of them stepped away from the photo screens and followed after their sisters, blending back into the lively flow of park guests as the four of them wandered off toward the next attraction.

  ─ ? NEXT CHAPTER POV ? ─

  Akio