The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the school gate, but Ren doesn't care about scenery right now. He's late—fifteen whole minutes.
He slams the door of the black Mercedes shut, scanning the crowd of uniforms and laughing teens spilling into the street. His gaze flickers from one face to another.
No sign of her.
He frowns. She's always here. Always waiting right outside the gate, arms crossed and lips pouting because he's "always fashionably late."
He checks his phone. No texts. No missed calls.
His gut tightens.
Ren steps out of the car, striding up to one of the girls nearby. "Hey. Have you seen Aiko Himura?"
The girl blinks, startled. "U-uh... I saw her walking that way, I think. A while ago."
Ren doesn't even thank her. He's already moving, slipping between crowds, heart pounding in sync with his footsteps. He tries her phone. No answer. He calls again. And again. Each ring burrows deeper into his skull, driving nails of panic through his usually calm mind.
Then his voice sharpens, deadly, as he calls his men. "She's missing. Track every street camera near the school, now. I want every exit, alley, blind spot covered."
He paces, breath shallow.
Where are you, princess?
---
Scene Shift — Underground Den
The room is dark. A low, musky scent lingers in the air—cigarettes, blood, sweat, and expensive leather. The only light comes from overhead bulbs that flicker slightly, casting a sickly glow on the walls.
Aiko stirs, her wrists bound behind a metal chair. Her ankles are strapped too, cutting into her skin. Her mouth is dry. The gag had been removed when she stopped struggling.
Now, she just stares. Silent. Watching. Waiting.
The man across the room lounges on a couch like a king on a throne—Kiyoshi Arata. Sharp, tailored suit. Rings on every finger. His jet-black hair is slicked back, but a single strand falls loose over his brow, softening his cruel features just a bit.
He smirks.
"You're surprisingly calm," he says, swirling a glass of whiskey. "I thought you'd be screaming by now."
Aiko doesn't answer.
Kiyoshi rises slowly, walking over to her with deliberate steps. His shoes click against the cement floor. When he crouches before her, there's no kindness in his gaze.
"You still trust him, don't you?" he murmurs, voice low, dangerous. "That bastard dog—Ren."
Aiko stiffens.
He chuckles. "Ah. There it is. The flicker in your eyes."
Kiyoshi leans in, almost whispering into her ear, "Don't you know he's the one who killed your daddy?"
The words land like a thunderclap.
Aiko's breath catches. Her heart stops, then slams back into rhythm like a drum.
"You're lying," she says, voice hoarse.
Kiyoshi tilts his head. "You sure about that? You barely even flinched. What—so deep down, you already knew?"
Aiko stays quiet. Her jaw clenched. She wants to scream, to cry, to demand answers—but her mind spins, and her heart won't let her believe it.
He sees it in her eyes.
That stubborn loyalty.
It pisses him off.
Kiyoshi's hand shoots out and grabs her chin, forcing her face up to meet his. "What's this? He already ruined your mind? Oh wait..." He lets his gaze slowly fall lower. "Or maybe this body, too?"
She shudders. He doesn't stop.
"Tell me, sweetheart," he drawls, his hand now sliding over her shoulder. "Have you been sleeping with that guy? The one who murdered your father?"
"Don't—touch me," she snarls, writhing against her restraints.
Her voice, though shaky, carries venom.
Laughter erupts around them. Other men, lurking in the shadows, watching like predators. Their eyes glint with sadistic interest.
"Feisty little thing," Kiyoshi murmurs, dragging a thumb along her throat. "You're cute when you're angry."
She jerks her head away, lips trembling now. "He didn't kill my father..."
"You sure? He was the right-hand man. Only one close enough to pull it off. You think a stray like him got that position by licking boots?"
Kiyoshi leans in closer, the scent of whiskey strong on his breath. "You're just a toy to him, little doll. And when he's done playing... he'll break you."
Suddenly—
BOOM.
The door blasts open. Wood splinters fly.
Men jump to their feet, guns drawn—but it's too late.
Ren is already there.
His coat drips with rain—or maybe blood. His eyes blaze like ice lit from beneath. In one hand, a gun. In the other, a knife smeared red.
"What the fu—"
BANG.
One man drops, blood blooming across his chest. Chaos erupts. Screams echo. Another body falls before anyone can even pull a trigger.
Aiko watches in stunned silence.
Kiyoshi stands, shocked. "How the hell did he—"
"Shut up," Ren snarls, striding through the chaos like a demon with purpose. "Touch her again and I'll skin you alive."
Kiyoshi draws his weapon—bang!—Ren shoots it clean out of his hand.
Then he's there. In front of Aiko. Cutting her bonds.
Her arms drop weakly into his, and he holds her as if the world is ending.
Kiyoshi coughs, blood trailing down his chin. "She knows now, doesn't she? I told her. About Daiki—about you."
Ren doesn't flinch.
He turns, gun raised—point blank.
Kiyoshi's smirk flickers. "You wouldn't."
Ren's smile is cold, hollow.
"Say less."
Bang.
The world goes quiet.
He turns back to Aiko, brushing her hair away from her face gently, voice low and trembling.
"I'm sorry I was late."
Her eyes brim with tears—not fear. Just ache. Love. Confusion. But she wraps her arms around him anyway.
Because no matter what the truth is—
Right now, he's her only safe place.