Location: Itsuhara's office
Scene: After the case of Najima
Time: 9:00 pm

The car rolled smoothly into the parking lot of the towering office building, its engine humming softly as Henkai, Itsuhara Yukina's loyal assistant, maneuvered it into place. The moment the car stopped, Itsuhara wasted no time. She stepped out briskly, her heels clicking against the pavement with determination, phone already in hand.

She dialed the number Senzaki had reluctantly shared earlier, anticipation bubbling in her chest. The line buzzed briefly before a voice answered—only to throw her off completely.

"여보세요? (Hello?)" The voice spoke in Korean, the tone casual yet polite.

Itsuhara paused, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Hello? Is this Niram Kavei I'm talking to?" she asked, her voice sharp, her usual confidence momentarily shaken by the unexpected language barrier.

"예. 카베이입니다. 누구세요? (Yes, this is Kavei. Who’s this?)" The young voice on the other end responded, calm yet curious.

Itsuhara blinked, her frustration beginning to seep through. "W-what?" she stammered, struggling to process his words. The realization hit her—he was speaking Korean, and she couldn’t understand a word of it.

"나는 당신이 누구냐고 물었다. (I asked who you are.)," Kavei repeated, his tone more direct this time, as if urging her to clarify her identity.

Itsuhara let out a groan of exasperation, muttering under her breath, "Is this not Kavei?" She pinched the bridge of her nose, her patience wearing thin. She glanced around, searching for a solution, her eyes landing on Henkai, who had just stepped out of the car, brushing off his suit and locking the vehicle.

"Henkai!" she called, her voice tinged with urgency. "Do you understand Korean?"

Henkai paused, surprised by her question. "Korean?" he echoed, tilting his head as he processed her words.

"Yes, Korean!" Itsuhara snapped, her tone edging toward desperation. She ran a hand through her neatly styled hair, disheveling it slightly. "Do you understand it?"

Henkai straightened, giving her a small nod. "Yes, I can manage."

Relief washed over her face as she thrust her phone into his hands. "Here. Talk to him," she demanded.

Henkai took the phone, his movements calm and deliberate. Raising it to his ear, he spoke in fluent Korean. "안녕하십니까? (Hello?)" His tone was polite, professional, and confident.

"여보세요. (Hello.)," Kavei replied, his voice carrying a trace of surprise at hearing another person on the line—and one who spoke his language.

"탐정과의 헨카이입니다. Kavei와 대화하고 싶습니다. (This is Henkai from the Detective Division. We would like to speak with you.)," Henkai introduced himself smoothly, ensuring there was no room for misunderstanding.

There was a pause on the other end before Kavei chuckled lightly. "I didn't know you'd have someone who can speak Korean," he admitted, his tone tinged with amusement and a hint of resignation.

"So you were playing with us," Itsuhara interjected, snatching the phone back from Henkai. Her sharp hearing had caught the gist of Kavei’s words, and her annoyance was evident.

Kavei sighed audibly. "I could tell Miss Itsuhara can’t speak Korean," he confessed, his voice calm but not without a touch of smugness. "I didn’t expect her to have someone who could. I thought I could get away easily. But now it doesn’t seem like it. So, tell me. What do you want?"

Itsuhara’s lips pressed into a thin line. She took a deep breath, calming herself before launching into her prepared pitch. "Kavei, this is a lifetime opportunity," she began, her voice measured but persuasive. "We can pay for your housing and school fees. You wouldn’t have to work part-time jobs anymore. You could focus on what you’re truly good at."

There was a beat of silence, and for a moment, she thought her words might have swayed him. But then his response came, firm and unyielding.

"I am already working. Without education," Kavei said, his tone unapologetic. "This life is the best for me."

"Kavei, wait—" Itsuhara tried to interject, her frustration mounting.

"Goodbye," Kavei said, cutting her off with a finality that left no room for argument. The line clicked, leaving only the empty silence of a disconnected call.

Itsuhara lowered the phone slowly, her grip tightening around it as a sigh escaped her lips. Her carefully laid plans, her hopes of recruiting the prodigy, had been thwarted once again.

Beside her, Henkai remained silent, watching as his boss stared at the phone with a mixture of frustration and determination. He knew that this wasn’t over—not for Itsuhara Yukina.

The Next Day
Location: Kavei's house
Time: 9:00 am
Scene: the day after Najima's case

The steady rhythm of water cascading from the shower filled the small, quiet apartment, creating a soothing soundtrack to the start of Kavei’s day. Steam rose in swirling tendrils, fogging the glass and cloaking the bathroom in a hazy warmth. Standing under the showerhead, Kavei massaged shampoo through his dark, unruly hair, his fingers working through the stubborn tangles.

With a flick of his wrist, he swept his damp locks to the side, allowing the soapy foam to rinse away under the heated stream. The water washed over him, carrying the remnants of sleep away. Finally, he reached out to turn the faucet off, the squeak of the knob echoing in the now-silent space. The air remained heavy with steam, curling around him like a humid veil as he secured a bathrobe tightly around his waist with its cloth belt.

Still tugging at his robe, Kavei stepped out of the bathroom, his bare feet padding softly against the hardwood floor. He ran a hand through his hair, attempting to smooth it out, and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glossy surface of a nearby window. His hair was a tousled mess, the damp strands curling at odd angles.

"I need to get you cut," he muttered, his voice low and gravelly from disuse. The words were meant for no one but himself, yet they carried a note of resigned annoyance as he pulled at a particularly stubborn strand.

Grumbling about his unruly locks, Kavei made his way into the open-plan kitchen. The space was simple, functional, with clean countertops and minimal decoration. He reached up to open one of the tall, white shelves that stretched almost to the ceiling. With a practiced motion, he swung the door open, revealing a row of neatly organized jars. His fingers found the familiar glass container filled with dark coffee beans.

Undoing the lid, he leaned in slightly, inhaling the rich, earthy aroma that immediately filled the air. For a moment, a small smile tugged at his lips, and he began humming a quiet, tuneless melody, the kind that came naturally when one felt entirely at ease.

He set to work on his morning brew, his movements fluid and methodical. The rhythmic grind of beans and the soft gurgle of the coffee machine provided a comforting backdrop as he poured the freshly brewed liquid into a well-worn brown mug.

Kavei was just about to bring the steaming mug to his lips when a sudden, piercing scream shattered the peace.

The sound froze him mid-motion. His grip on the mug tightened, and his jaw clenched as his eyes darted toward the window. The scream wasn’t muffled; it was close—too close.

"What… now," he muttered through gritted teeth, his annoyance palpable as his eyes shut briefly in frustration. He placed the mug down carefully, the ceramic clicking softly against the counter, before turning toward the sound, his mind already running through possibilities.

His peaceful morning had just been interrupted, and whatever was causing the commotion, Kavei had a feeling it wouldn’t be something he could ignore.

Kavei's heart pounded as he rushed to his bedroom window, drawn by the urgency of the scream that had shattered his peaceful morning. Pulling aside the curtain, his sharp eyes took in the scene below: a young woman running frantically down the deserted street, her head darting back over her shoulder as though fleeing some unseen terror. Her movements were wild and desperate, her breath visible in the crisp morning air.

Without a second thought, Kavei grabbed a long overcoat and threw it on over his bathrobe. "Seriously," he muttered, exasperated as he shoved his feet into a pair of sneakers and bolted out the door. Taking the stairs two at a time, he reached the ground floor in seconds and emerged onto the street just as the girl let out another piercing cry.

“Help me!” she screamed, her voice trembling with fear and desperation.

Kavei’s sharp gaze scanned the street for the source of her terror. Before he could spot anything, a chilling voice slithered out from the shadows, its menace palpable.

“No one will help you here,” the voice taunted, sending a visible shiver down the girl’s spine.

Kavei stepped onto the pavement, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat, his posture as nonchalant as if he were simply stretching his legs. "Why do you have to harass someone in the middle of the street?" he asked flatly, his tone brimming with irritation rather than concern.

The voice from the darkness chuckled, its edge sharp with malice. “Who are you, boy?” it sneered, the words laced with disdain.

The girl stumbled to a halt, panting heavily as she locked eyes with Kavei, her expression a mix of hope and terror. “P-please help me!” she cried, running toward him as though his mere presence was a shield against her pursuer.

Kavei arched an eyebrow, glancing at her with visible impatience. “Why?” he asked bluntly, his voice betraying none of the sympathy she had hoped for.

“E-eh?” The girl blinked, startled by his unexpected response.

“You help yourself,” he continued, his tone cold and detached. “I only came out here because your screaming was disturbing my morning.”

The girl gaped at him, her fear now tinged with disbelief at his callousness. “W-what?” she stammered, unable to process his indifference.

Ignoring her reaction, Kavei turned his attention to the shadows. “Can you show yourself, please?” he called out, his voice cutting through the morning stillness. “The man who’s behind her.”

There was a moment of silence before a figure stepped into the dim light, his appearance both unsettling and absurd. Clad in a black jumpsuit, a bucket hat pulled low over his head, and a mask obscuring his face, the man looked more like a caricature of a villain than a real threat.

“Wow,” Kavei muttered under his breath, taking in the man’s outfit with a mix of amusement and disdain. “Some fashion choice.” The girl, now standing beside him, heard the remark and glanced at him, bewildered by his casual attitude in the face of danger.

“Uh… I’m Himeko,” the girl stammered, attempting to introduce herself.

Kavei barely spared her a glance. “And I’m tired,” he quipped dryly, his impatience evident as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

Himeko blinked at him, her fear momentarily overshadowed by confusion. “Do… do you live here?” she ventured, hoping to engage him further.

Kavei’s lips curled into a faint smirk. “I don’t know,” he said with deliberate sarcasm, his tone dripping with mockery. “Maybe I ran all the way from Tokyo to here for you.”

Himeko let out an exasperated grunt, her frustration boiling over. “Ugh! You’re impossible!”

Kavei rolled his eyes. “I hate this,” he muttered under his breath, his patience nearing its limit.

“How can you hate me? We only just met!” Himeko snapped, her indignation finally breaking through her fear.

“You’re wasting my precious time,” Kavei replied coolly, his voice devoid of emotion. “Is there any other reason needed?”

Before their argument could escalate further, the masked man spoke, his voice quivering with frustration. “Will anyone pay attention here, please?” he demanded, his tone unexpectedly tinged with sadness. “Rakana Himeko. Come with me,” he ordered, his words heavy with menace.

“Why would I come with you, creep?” Himeko retorted, her voice trembling as she attempted to muster some semblance of defiance.

The man let out a low growl, his hand diving into his pocket. When it emerged, it held a sleek black gun that glinted ominously in the morning light. He pointed it directly at her, his thumb resting on the trigger.

“Just come with me, or you’ll have a hole carved in your forehead,” he snarled, his tone sending a fresh wave of terror through Himeko.

Her composure crumbled, and she let out a strangled cry. “What the heck! Why am I stuck here like this?” she wailed, her voice rising in pitch with her mounting desperation.

“If you won’t come quietly, you’ll be sorry,” the man threatened, his voice cold and unyielding as he tightened his grip on the weapon.

Kavei stood still, his hands still in his pockets, watching the scene unfold with a mix of boredom and irritation. As the man’s threats filled the air, a small sigh escaped Kavei’s lips. He shifted his weight slightly, his eyes narrowing as he finally seemed to take the situation seriously.