The town breathed differently at night.

  Lanterns flickered along stone streets, casting long shadows that clung to walls and corners like secrets that refused to die. Footsteps echoed where merchants once shouted, and the distant murmur of taverns blurred into a dull hum.

  Akitsu Shouga walked through it all without sound.

  A hooded cloak concealed his frame, the fabric heavy against the cool night air. A piece of dark cloth covered the lower half of his face, hiding his expression. His black hair was tucked beneath the hood, and his black eyes scanned every intersection, every reflection in the windows of closed shops.

  Beside him walked Rhen Calder, his orange hair impossible to fully hide even beneath his own cloak, his orange eyes sharp and alert. At Rhen’s heel padded Lemon, a small wood lemming whose presence was oddly comforting in the quiet.

  Rhen broke the silence first.

  “This is where we split,” he said casually, though his tone carried weight. “I need to report to the royal family. What happened in the Solaryn Kingdom isn’t something I can delay.”

  Akitsu slowed, then stopped. “You’re heading straight to them?”

  “Yeah,” Rhen replied. “No detours. No bars. No explosions.” He smirked faintly. “Try not to burn down half the city while I’m gone.”

  Akitsu huffed quietly. “I make no promises.”

  Lemon squeaked, climbing briefly onto Rhen’s shoulder.

  “You behave too,” Rhen said, tapping the lemming’s nose. “No biting royalty.”

  Lemon squeaked again, indignant.

  Rhen turned serious. “Be careful, Akitsu. Whatever’s happening here… it’s moving faster than we thought.”

  Akitsu nodded once. “I know.”

  Without another word, Rhen turned and walked away, Lemon riding along as the two disappeared into the opposite direction, swallowed by lantern light and shadows.

  Akitsu watched them go for a moment.

  Then he turned toward the market district.

  The alleyway near the old market was forgotten by most. Trash gathered where stalls once stood, and the smell of damp stone and old alcohol hung thick in the air. Akitsu slipped into the narrow passage, boots silent against the ground.

  At the end of the alley stood a small, empty bar.

  The sign above it creaked softly, faded letters barely readable. Inside, dim candlelight revealed cracked wooden floors and a single figure behind the counter.

  An old man, polishing a glass.

  He looked up as Akitsu entered.

  “…Been a while,” the bartender said, voice rough with age.

  Akitsu approached the counter and rested his gloved hand against the wood. “Devil shot.”

  The old man paused.

  Then he nodded. “Follow me.”

  Without another word, the bartender stepped out from behind the counter and led Akitsu through a side door into a cramped storage room stacked with crates and bottles. He moved one box aside and pressed down on a hidden lever concealed behind it.

  With a low rumble, part of the wall slid away.

  A staircase descended into darkness.

  “Same rules,” the bartender muttered. “No names. No noise.”

  Akitsu stepped forward. “As always.”

  He descended the stairs alone.

  The hidden bar beneath the city was silent.

  Too silent.

  Once, two years ago, this place had been alive—packed with criminals, mercenaries, information brokers, and monsters in human skin. Laughter, arguments, deals sealed in blood and coin.

  Now?

  Empty tables. Cold lanterns. Dust.

  Akitsu’s gaze swept the room. “…”

  His fingers curled slightly.

  “So they really are gone,” he murmured.

  He moved past the bar and into a narrow hallway lit by a single flickering lamp. At the end stood a door—dark wood, reinforced metal frame.

  Akitsu pushed it open.

  Inside, a single table stood beneath a hanging light.

  And seated there, exactly as always, was Kaito Morikawa.

  Black hair. Red eyes.

  Same chair. Same posture.

  As if time had stopped for him alone.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Akitsu stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “The bar’s empty.”

  Kaito didn’t look up. “Sit.”

  Akitsu did—but his eyes never left Kaito. “Two years ago, this place couldn’t breathe without someone stabbing someone else. Now there’s no one.”

  Kaito’s pen continued moving across the paper. “There’s an underground rival syndicate selling a drug called Ashveil.”

  Akitsu’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  Kaito finally looked up, red eyes sharp. “And I didn’t ask you one.”

  Silence stretched between them.

  Akitsu exhaled slowly. “You’re dodging.”

  “Yes,” Kaito said plainly. “Now listen.”

  Akitsu leaned back. “Fine. What do you need me to do about Ashveil?”

  Kaito closed the ledger and slid open a drawer beneath the table. He pulled out a small 16-centimeter bag filled with pale, shimmering powder and placed it on the table.

  Akitsu stared at it. “That’s it?”

  “Ashveil,” Kaito confirmed. “We don’t know how it’s made. We don’t know who distributes it. No ingredients. No supply lines.”

  Akitsu’s jaw tightened. “Nothing at all?”

  “We do know one thing,” Kaito continued. “The syndicate reported their own hideout to the authorities along with ours "

  Akitsu frowned. “Why would they—”

  “Evacuation,” Kaito cut in. “A trap. The place will be crawling with royal guards in minutes.”

  Akitsu’s eyes flicked toward the ceiling. “So this place—”

  “Is compromised,” Kaito said calmly. “And so is everything connected to it.”

  Akitsu went silent for a moment. “The student council at Fiester Academy is involved.”

  “Yes,” Kaito replied. “Which is why you must not interfere. Do not get caught. Do not cross paths unnecessarily.”

  Akitsu clenched his fist. “Then what exactly am I supposed to do?”

  Kaito leaned back in his chair. “Continue doing what you’re already doing.”

  Akitsu let out a sharp breath. “That’s not an answer.”

  “It’s the only one you’ll get.”

  Akitsu looked down at the bag of Ashveil. “You really don’t know who’s behind this?”

  Kaito’s lips curved slightly. “If I did, they’d already be dead.”

  Akitsu hesitated. “…Kaoru.”

  Kaito stood abruptly. “She’s fine.”

  Akitsu looked up sharply.

  “She’ll have a little sibling in a few months,” Kaito added casually. “Healthy. Nothing to worry about.”

  Akitsu froze. “How do you—”

  Kaito turned away, walking toward the wall to his right. “You worry too much.”

  He pressed a button hidden in plain sight.

  The wall shifted.

  Stone slid aside, revealing a secret passageway, narrow and dark.

  “Follow me,” Kaito said. “Unless you want to meet the guards.”

  Akitsu stood. “What about the bartender?”

  “Already closed the bar,” Kaito replied. “He left.”

  Akitsu hesitated only a second before stepping into the passage.

  The wall closed behind them.

  As if it had never existed.

  Seconds later—

  The bar above exploded with noise.

  Royal guards burst through the door, weapons drawn.

  “Search everything!”

  One guard froze. “Sir… there’s a lever here.”

  They pulled it.

  The passage opened.

  They rushed down the stairs—

  —and realized too late.

  “TNT—!”

  The explosion tore through the underground bar, fire and stone collapsing inward. The shockwave shook the market district, flames erupting through the alleyway as the entire structure caved in.

  Screams were swallowed by fire.

  Above, the night burned.

  Below, Akitsu and Kaito moved through the hidden tunnels in silence, the explosion echoing faintly behind them.

  Akitsu finally spoke. “…You planned this.”

  Kaito didn’t deny it. “They were already dead the moment they stepped inside.”

  Akitsu’s eyes darkened. “Ashveil isn’t the only thing poisoning this city.”

  “No,” Kaito agreed. “But it’s the loudest.”

  They disappeared into the darkness.

  And somewhere above, the academy slept—unaware that the fire had already been lit beneath its foundations.