Night had fallen over the town. Kenta had gone home a long time ago.

  Takashi sat on the sofa, his hands tucked behind his head with his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

  “Sota Hayami…” he whispered.

  “What is your connection to my father…?”

  He lifted his head and reached for the phone on the table.

  Kenta hadn’t called tonight…

  He had called every evening since the night Takashi was wounded, always checking on him.

  Maybe he’s just busy...

  Takashi waited for his call...not because he had grown used to it, but because he needed to be sure Kenta wouldn’t call him after he left the house.

  While waiting, he searched for the location of the Kurotsuki Bar.

  The Shirogawa district was the most dangerous part of the town, especially at night.

  It was eight o’clock…Kenta still hadn’t called.

  Takashi assumed he was busy. And even if he called later, he could say he had fallen asleep.

  There was no time to wait any longer.

  He picked up the white shirt from the sofa and pulled it over his head.

  The phone remained silent. He hesitated for a moment, then picked it up from the table and pulled his leather jacket from the closet.

  He slipped the jacket over his shoulders and glanced at the mirror. His hair was too neat so he ran his fingers through it a few times. Just to fit in when he entered the bar.

  The leather jacket fit him perfectly. He hadn’t worn it in ages.

  It had been bought a few years ago, during a trip with Kenta…

  Takashi smiled softly at the memory.

  Cold air bit into his skin as he stepped outside. It was November, and the nights were unusually cold.

  A cold shiver ran through his body....not because of the cold, but because deep down he knew he was making another reckless decision. Once again, he was being led by his emotions instead of his mind.

  But despite everything, he sat in the taxi and told the driver where to go. With no clear plan in his mind, he left everything behind.

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  There was a time when he had hated his father for his decisions…but sitting in that car, driving straight into the wasp’s nest, he understood him like never before.

  Even though he knew Kenta would be furious…even though he wasn’t fully recovered, nothing could stop him. He wanted to know the truth. He wanted revenge.

  He wanted to take them down...one by one.

  Sota was the first real connection to the truth behind his father’s death. At least, he assumed so…

  It was worth trying...

  And the fact that Sota had saved him made Takashi even more determined to find him.

  With no clear plan in his mind, he stepped out of the taxi.

  The sound of waves brought back the memory of the night he had been wounded.

  He remembered the warmth of Sota’s body as he had held on to him…the softness in his eyes...

  Someone like that shouldn’t belong to the world he came from.

  At least, that was what Takashi told himself.

  His mind was racing as he approached the bar. Loud music echoed outside.

  Butterflies twisted in his stomach.

  What should I do if I see him…how should I approach him?

  He hadn’t thought this through before coming…

  It doesn’t matter. I’ll think of something.

  The bar was crowded…the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke was unbearable. Dim lights made it hard to see anything clearly.

  It seemed he was the only sober person there…and that alone screamed trouble.

  I don’t fit in here at all...

  He moved through the crowd carefully, making sure not to bump into anyone or step on someone’s foot. In a place like this, even the smallest mistake could lead to trouble… and he knew that very well.

  It was hard to see anything through the cigarette smoke, but he kept searching, scanning the crowd.

  It seemed Sota wasn’t there.

  But it didn’t matter. He was determined to come here every night.

  Sooner or later…he would show up.

  Takashi decided to wait a bit longer. He wasn’t someone who gave up so easily.

  In the blink of an eye, he heard a loud commotion near him.

  A fight had broken out...nothing unusual in places like this.

  The second he decided to leave and get away before bigger trouble started, he felt a sharp pain in his stomach.

  The person in front of him shoved him with their elbow, trying to escape the fight.

  Unbearable pain shot through him, as if he were being wounded all over again.

  He tried to find an exit, desperate to get away before everything escalated.

  Suddenly, a strong grip closed around his arm, dragging him through the crowd.

  It was him…

  Takashi's heart was pounding in his chest, as if it might explode.

  He could only see his back, but he knew…it was Sota.

  Without letting go, he pulled him through the crowd and into the alley behind the bar.

  Now he could see his face clearly...sharp features, perfectly shaped eyebrows and lips, deep black eyes...

  This time, they were filled with anger.

  Takashi’s heart was in his throat, even though he wasn’t someone who frightened easily. Sota’s fierce look made him uneasy.

  “You’re looking for trouble again…Detective.”

  He held him firmly by the jacket.

  This wasn’t the man from that night, Takashi thought, staring straight into his eyes.

  “Why are you here?” Sota snapped

  Still gripping Takashi’s jacket, he stood so close that Takashi could hear him breathing.

  “If you’re looking for me because I saved you that night…don’t flatter yourself. It didn’t mean anything.

  I was only afraid that if I left you there to die, they would connect the case to our organization. That’s all.”

  Finally, he let go of Takashi’s jacket and stepped back.

  “I recommend you to go home and never come here again. Next time, I won’t be so nice.”

  But Takashi wasn’t someone who gave up so easily.

  He took a step forward...then stopped. His back was now facing Sota.

  He had come here for answers, and he would get them no matter what.

  “You knew my father…didn’t you?”

  His heart was pounding in his chest, but he didn’t back down.

  “Go home, Detective. While you still have a chance.” Sota spoke calmly now.

  “That necklace around your neck…it belonged to my father. Why are you wearing it?”

  A sharp pain tore through Takashi’s stomach, and he instinctively pressed a hand against the wound.

  “This?”

  Sota pulled the necklace from beneath his shirt.

  “Why do you think it belonged to your father? There are plenty of necklaces like this in the world. That doesn’t prove anything.”

  “But it proves everything.”

  Takashi turned fully toward Sota, one hand pressed against his stomach beneath the jacket.

  “That necklace was custom-made by my mother as a gift for my father. It belonged to him.”

  Blood slowly began to stain his white shirt.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  Sota stepped closer. His eyes softened once again.

  “Here…put your arm around me.”

  Sota leaned in to support him.

  Once again, Takashi lifted his head to look at Sota.

  His eyes told him the truth.

  He couldn’t fake it anymore...