"Some truths hide best in shadows"
The city at night was alive—paper lanterns swaying in warm hues, street stalls sizzling, and distant music humming low in the background.
R.K. led Lena through a quieter back alley toward a tea shop tucked between two taller buildings. The contrast between the world outside and the dim, wood-paneled quiet within was stark. Lena kept glancing at him sideways, taking in the way his braid draped over his shoulder, how the deep brown of his eyes seemed to catch the flicker of candlelight just right.
"So... detective?" she asked, sipping her tea with a smirk. "Or vigilante?"
R.K. grinned. "Depends on the day. And the mood."
Lena leaned forward just slightly, her elbows on the table. "And what mood are you in now?"
He didn't answer right away—just watched her over the rim of his own cup. "One that likes mystery. And trouble. You?"
"I'm the kind of girl that punches mystery in the face," she said, then grinned. "But I flirt with trouble."
He chuckled low. "Then I should probably be careful."
There was a beat of charged silence before Lena broke it with a casual sip, acting like she hadn't just made the air feel like velvet. "You gonna tell me why you were following us?"
"I was told you'd come. By someone I trust. Someone who thinks you're key to unraveling all of this."
He reached into his coat and placed a folded scrap of cloth on the table—marked faintly with a familiar lotus pattern.
Lena's eyes narrowed. "So you're another piece in this game."
"Or the one helping flip the board."
The rooftop was quiet—above the city's pulse and hum, Nala leaned into the railing, watching the glowing skyline stretch like stars spilled across the earth.
Hikaru found her easily. She always chose the quietest place she could still keep a high vantage.
"You planning on leaping off?" he said dryly.
She smirked without turning. "Don't tempt me."
He stepped beside her, letting the silence stretch for a beat. "You're different here. More... distracted."
She gave a nonchalant shrug. "Doesn't mean I like it. Cities feel fake."
He gave a quiet grunt of agreement. "You need to take a break from all the brooding."
She smirked. "And do what? Learn how to smile like you?"
"I'm serious," he said, tone lighter than usual. "There's a place nearby. Jazz club. Real music, low lights. Could be... good for you."
She raised an eyebrow. "You're asking me out?"
He looked off toward the horizon. "I'm asking you not to be insufferable for one night."
Nala laughed—low and unexpected. "You're lucky I like music."
"Just don't show up in your usual walking curtain," he added, glancing at her cloak with mock disdain. "The club's underground, not undead."
"You're the one who wears all black like he's mourning his personality."
A pause.
"I'll be there," she said smoothly. "But what I wear? That's not your business."
"Wouldn't dream of guessing," Hikaru replied, already turning toward the stairwell. "But try not to cause a scene when everyone stares."
She watched him disappear, a small smile tugging at her lips.
He has no idea.
Back in their shared room, Nala tossed her cloak onto the chair and flopped onto the bed, phone already in hand. She scrolled until she hit Lena's name and tapped the call icon.
It rang once.
"If you're calling to tell me you found another Hollow symbol, I swear I'm—"
"It's not that," Nala interrupted with a small smirk. "We're going out tonight. Jazz club. You in?"
There was a pause. Then, "Are we talking casual jazz, or 'I need to slay' jazz?"
Nala glanced at the red dress hanging on the door.
"Slay. Obviously."
"Oh, say less! I'll be there in ten."
True to her word, Lena showed up minutes later with her hair straightened to silky perfection, parted down the middle and falling past her shoulders like midnight ink. She wore a loose tee and leggings, carrying her dress in a garment bag.
"You look ready to ruin someone's night," Nala teased as she let her in.
"And you're gonna break someone's heart tonight," Lena shot back.
Nala chuckled, motioning toward her own freshly washed hair, now drying into a wild, full crown of dark curls. "I figured I'd keep it natural tonight. Let the city meet the real me."
Lena looked her over with appreciation. "Good. Because the real you looks unstoppable."
The energy shifted then—electric, feminine, confident. They were about to get dressed, but more than that, they were about to step into a space where all eyes would be on them... and neither of them would mind.
Clothes were flung over the backs of chairs, open makeup palettes scattered across the desk, and a speaker hummed low with a mellow R&B playlist that filled the space with rhythm.
Nala stood in front of the mirror in nothing but her underthings, her brown skin practically glowing beneath the soft light. She slid on the red dress with a practiced grace, tugging it over her curves. The fabric clung like liquid silk—high-slit, off-the-shoulder, dipping low in the back, the kind of red that turned heads and silenced rooms.
Lena whistled. "Okay, Marilyn Mon-rogue. That dress was made for you."
Nala smirked, applying her gloss. "You're one to talk. You look good!"
"I call this look: Femme Fatale but Make It Friendly," she grinned. "We look too good to just be backup."
Nala laughed, the two of them sharing a quick selfie before grabbing their coats. "You ready?"
"Please. I was born ready."
The rich hum of jazz echoed up from below as the two men reached the top of the marble staircase that led into the underground club. The flickering gold lights played across their sharp features, casting them in a glow that turned heads before they even stepped inside.
Hikaru walked a step ahead—broad-shouldered, built like a warrior who'd just stepped out of another time. Hikaru's long, raven-black hair flowed past his shoulders in gentle waves, a few strands falling into his face like they refused to be tamed. He hadn't bothered tying it back tonight—intentional. He wore a tailored black trench coat that hung open to reveal a fitted charcoal shirt tucked into sleek black slacks. The sleeves were rolled just enough to expose strong forearms veined like rivers—silent warnings of the power he carried beneath the surface. His presence was magnetic, unbothered, all sharp lines and restrained strength.
Beside him, R.K. was just as striking in his own right—tall and lean with a coiled elegance. His long, jet-black hair was braided tightly down his back, a few loose strands brushing his sharp jawline. He wore a dark forest green blazer with an asymmetrical collar, paired with tailored pants and combat-style boots that hinted at how fast he could disappear into shadows if needed. A thin silver chain peeked from under his shirt collar, catching the light as he adjusted his cuffs. He looked like the kind of man who knew secrets—and kept them.
As they descended the steps, heads turned. A group of women near the bar slowed their laughter. Even the host at the velvet rope straightened his posture, sensing power in the way these two men moved. Silent. Controlled. Dangerous.
Without a word, Hikaru glanced at R.K., who simply gave a subtle nod.
The calm before the storm had entered the club.
Jazz crooned low in the background, glasses clinked, and voices blurred into white noise as Lena stepped through the velvet curtain entrance like a vision cut from starlight. She moved with easy confidence, her long, straight hair cascading down her back like obsidian silk, the sleek strands glinting under the dim, golden lights.
She wore a deep emerald green satin dress that hugged her figure like it was custom-made for her curves. The neckline was daring—draped off her shoulders, exposing her glowing skin and delicate collarbones dusted in shimmer. A thigh-high slit kissed one long leg with every step she took in her nude heels. Her makeup was soft but captivating—glossed lips, smoked-out eyes, and that perfect winged liner. She looked expensive. Unbothered. Lethal.
Lena scanned the room with practiced ease, catching more than a few stares as she paused at the entrance, her clutch casually tucked under one arm. For a moment, she looked like she belonged to another world.
She stepped aside, a small smirk tugging at her lips.
And then—
Nala walked in.
Every conversation died.
Her hair was styled in soft, defined curls that framed her face and fell just below her shoulders. The black bounced against the glow of her brown skin—deep, rich, and kissed by gold under the lights. Her dress was fire—a deep, sultry red that clung to every curve like it was made for her. The back dipped low. The neckline was bold. Gold jewelry kissed her neck and wrists, and matching gold heels clicked softly against the floor as she moved with slow, measured grace. She didn't have to try to command the room—she was the room.
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Where Lena was starlight, Nala was flame.
A whisper passed through the club. A few jaws dropped. One man dropped his drink.
Nala met Lena's eyes with a small, smug smile, and the two women walked deeper into the lounge like they had done it a thousand times before.
Unapologetic. Divine. Unreachable.
And at the far end of the room, two men watched with unreadable eyes—one with tension in his jaw, the other with a slow, knowing smirk.
R.K leaned back in his seat, legs casually crossed, a quiet smile curling his lips as Lena stepped into view.
He let out a soft, low whistle under his breath—silent enough that only Hikaru might have caught it.
"Wow," he muttered.
She was every bit the storm he'd imagined and more.
That green dress looked like it had been molded onto her. Her skin glowed, her hips swayed with quiet confidence, and her expression was pure unbothered royalty. He took in the slit of her dress, the gloss on her lips, the cold steel in her eyes.
She's dangerous, he thought. Exactly my type.
And then came the second one.
He glanced toward Nala, brows lifting as she joined Lena's side, and his smile widened a little, letting out a low chuckle. "No way they came in like that together," he said, nudging Hikaru lightly.
Hikaru didn't answer.
He was too busy watching her.
R.K clocked it immediately. The tension in Hikaru's jaw. The heat in his stare. The stillness.
A beat passed. R.K's smirk deepened.
"Want me to get you a drink, or are you just going to keep staring into the abyss?" he asked casually.
Hikaru exhaled once through his nose, adjusting his collar.
"Shut up."
From their private booth tucked beneath shadows and ambient light, Hikaru took a slow sip of his drink.
He was prepared for elegance—Nala always had that effortless kind of beauty that made people forget their surroundings. But this? This wasn't what he expected.
The moment she stepped through the curtain, time dragged like syrup.
Red. That dress. Her skin.
The soft curls. The golden glow of her jewelry. Every inch of her sang like a warning to his discipline.
She's trying to kill me, he thought, muscles tensing beneath his tailored jacket.
He didn't blink. Couldn't. His eyes swept down her form with slow reverence, trailing the lines of the dress that hugged her waist, dipped along her back, the way her gold heels made her legs look endless. She wasn't just beautiful—she was dangerous. Every step she took toward him was another crack in the armor he'd spent years perfecting.
And the worst part? She wasn't doing it for him. She didn't even look his way. Just glided in like she didn't notice the way men turned in their seats or how women looked in jealousy.
Hikaru leaned forward slightly, glass clinking softly as he set it down, eyes never leaving her.
"Red?" he muttered under his breath, smirking bitterly. "She would."
The jazz club buzzed around them—low lights, velvet seating, sultry saxophone gliding through the air. Nala and Lena were escorted to the guys table, the lighting soft and golden, casting a warm sheen over their skin.
Lena sat first, crossing one leg over the other with confidence. R.K watched her the whole way, eyes dipping slightly before snapping back to hers with a smirk.
"You're going to cause trouble tonight, aren't you?" he said, voice low and smooth.
Lena tilted her head, lips curving. "Depends. You think you can handle a little trouble?"
R.K chuckled, leaning back just enough to give her space, but his gaze didn't waver. Their chemistry was instant and unbothered, like they'd done this dance before.
Then came Nala.
She didn't say a word as she slid into the booth across from Hikaru.
He didn't move.
But his jaw tightened. His gaze, though lazy at first, sharpened in an instant. He took her in like a warrior surveying the battlefield—calculated and careful—but she saw the way his eyes betrayed him. Just for a second. A flicker.
"You clean up well," Nala said casually, glancing at his sharp black blazer over a charcoal button-up, collar popped just enough to let his necklace peek out. "Didn't know you owned clothes that didn't smell like sweat and blood."
Hikaru scoffed, lips curving in a half-smile. "Didn't know you wore anything other than that cloak. Bold move—did you lose it on the way here or was it choking your personality?"
Nala leaned forward just a bit, unbothered. "Funny. I could say the same about your attitude."
R.K glanced between them, then leaned toward Lena. "Should we be worried?"
Lena sipped her drink, eyes amused. "Oh, they like each other. They just don't know it yet."
Across the table, Nala raised an eyebrow at Hikaru, lips slightly parted like she was about to say something sharp—but then stopped. Held her stare.
He stared back. The tension pulled tight. Unspoken things danced between their glares, wrapped in red silk and long hair and old grudges.
Then the band changed tempo. A darker, slower jazz melody began to play.
Nala leaned back, swirling her drink. "This place is decent," she muttered, gaze on the stage. "You finally take me somewhere civilized."
"I can take you back to the forest," Hikaru murmured, leaning close enough only she could hear. "But I doubt you'd last the night."
Nala smirked. "You think that's a threat?"
"No," he said. "It's a promise."
As the music played low and sultry in the background, a well-dressed waiter approached their table, balancing a sleek tray. With practiced grace, he set down two drinks—crystal glasses rimmed with gold and filled with something deep red and sparkling.
"For the ladies," he said with a slight bow, then placed a small card beside Nala's drink before walking off.
Lena leaned forward, smirking. "Ooooh, what's that? You got an admirer already?"
Nala picked up the card, brow arching as she read the handwritten words:
"Red looks good on you. Thought you might be thirsty. —K."
Before she could react, a smooth voice—rich and deep, laced with familiarity—cut through the music like silk.
"You always did know how to walk into a room like you own it."
Both girls turned.
Standing just feet away, dressed in a tailored black suit with an open collar and no tie, was a tall man with warm bronze skin and sharp, symmetrical features. His long hair was pulled into a clean low bun with some strands loose over his face, and his dark eyes—piercing and unreadable—were focused entirely on Nala.
Lena blinked, then gasped. "Kazuya?!"
Kazuya gave her a lopsided grin and opened his arms slightly. "Didn't think I'd see you here, Lena."
She laughed, walking over and giving him a quick, tight hug. "What in the world! You look... expensive."
"I clean up sometimes." He grinned, then turned his gaze to Nala, his smile deepening. "But I wasn't expecting to see you."
Nala raised her glass with a cool smirk, hiding the flutter in her chest. "Clearly. Though you didn't waste time sending drinks."
"I figured I owed you at least that. After all, you left without saying goodbye last time."
She took a slow sip, arching a brow. "Maybe you just weren't worth one."
Lena coughed into her drink, trying to stifle a laugh.
Kazuya chuckled low, clearly unfazed. "Still sharp as ever."
Behind them, Hikaru stood stone still, watching the exchange—his arms folded across his chest, eyes narrowed like he was sizing up a threat. Kazuya's presence had shifted something in the air.
Kazuya's eyes stayed on her, like he was studying her all over again. "You've changed."
Nala tilted her head, playing it cool even as her fingers tightened slightly around her glass. "You think so?"
"I know so." His voice dipped lower. "But the way you look in that dress? That hasn't changed. You still know how to shut down a room."
For a moment, Nala didn't have a witty comeback. Not because she didn't have one—but because something about the way he said it brought her back. To late nights. To unspoken things. To all the almosts they'd never let happen.
"I'm flattered," she finally replied, lips curving just slightly as she sipped her drink again, eyes locked with his. "But careful, Kazuya. Compliments like that might make a girl think you still care."
Kazuya stepped closer, just enough for the space between them to feel charged. "And what if I do?"
Lena's jaw dropped, eyes flicking between them like she was watching her favorite drama unfold in real time.
Nala laughed lightly—too lightly. "Now that's dangerous."
He leaned down slightly, offering a hand. "Then come dance with danger."
Nala blinked. That line was so corny—she should've rolled her eyes, made a sarcastic comment, or brushed him off like she would anyone else.
But she didn't.
Instead, without a word, she placed her hand in his, letting him lead her away from the table.
Lena gawked. "Oh, she's really going."
From a few feet away, Hikaru's expression darkened just enough for R.K. to notice. He nudged him slightly, low enough that only Hikaru could hear.
"Relax. They're just dancing."
"She's dancing with him."
R.K. raised a brow, amused. "Jealous?"
Hikaru's jaw flexed. "Tch. Not even a little."
But the way his eyes tracked every step Nala took said otherwise.