The fluorescent light above Kazou's desk flickered, casting a pale glow over the clutter. Papers were everywhere—some covered in notes, others pinned together with thumbtacks. At first, it looked like lab work. But a closer look revealed something else. Timelines. Names. Red circles. Question marks. It looked less like research and more like a conspiracy. Kazou leaned forward, elbows on the desk, a pen in hand but unmoving. Behind him, soft footsteps padded into his workspace. Kazou didn't notice the sound of Rose returning at first, not until the door creaked behind him. He looked up. She was in the doorway. She was dressed casually, a simple black coat draped over her shoulders. Her lips were pressed into a hard line. Her arms were crossed. Kazou sat up straighter in his chair, sensing the change in her immediately. She walked in slowly, eyes flicking over the papers on the desk—papers she'd seen a thousand times in different versions, different stages. She stopped just short of the desk and pointed at them.
"I'm going to say something, and I need you to really hear it," she said, her voice low and trembling. "You're not the man I got engaged to."
Kazou blinked.
"You're brilliant, Kazou. You always have been. You're one of the most focused, empathetic minds in this field. But lately? You've stopped being that man. You've stopped showing up—for the work, for the team, for us."
Her voice rose, like a tide swelling under the weight of months—maybe years—of frustration.
"Deadlines are flying past us. Yes, you may still be working, but it's not the same!"
Kazou opened his mouth, but she kept going.
"You say this is important, and I get that. I really do. But what about everything else that's important?" She gestured at the notes on the desk. "You think this will give you peace? That finding some invisible thread is going to fix what happened?"
"No," Kazou said gently,
"But pretending it didn't matter won't either." Rose scoffed and took a step back, running a hand through her hair. "You're an incredible scientist, Kazou. You're needed. You're building things that can change the world. But instead, you're stuck here, chasing a ghost through old security tapes and missing persons reports like some burned-out detective."
"I'm not chasing a ghost," Kazou said quietly. "I'm trying to understand what really happened since no one else will."
"But why still?" she snapped, her voice cracking a little. "Why still, after all this time?"
Kazou looked at her, eyes steady.
"Because it never let me go."
That made her flinch. Just slightly. But enough. She stared at him for a long moment. Then her expression changed—not softer, but colder. Not distant, but firm.
"I'm not doing this tonight," she said, grabbing her coat fully around her. "I can't." Kazou watched her, but didn't argue. Didn't chase after her. She turned toward the door but paused at the threshold.
"10 PM," she said without looking back. "The bar on 4th. The quiet one. What was it called again? "Mizuki's'? We'll talk then. You have until then to figure out what actually matters."
And then she was gone. The door shut harder than she probably meant it to, echoing down the hall. Kazou sat in silence for a long time. Then he looked back down at the map on his desk. His fingers hovered over the edge of the photograph—grainy, old, faded. Two children. A hallway. A gun that vanished.
Kazou didn't hear the door open. It was the sound of a throat being cleared—soft but deliberate—that made him look up. Akane stood in the doorway, holding a tall stack of files against her hip. Her eyes drifted from Kazou to the mess on his desk.
"Well," she said, offering a small smirk, "glad to see you've finally cracked time travel. And, this must be your DNA test confirming who Jack the Ripper was. What is this—unsolved murders and a time machine?"
Kazou didn't laugh. Her smile faded as she took a step closer. Her eyes scanned the papers again, lingering on the red markings, the timelines, the scribbled connections.
"Oh," she said, her voice softer now. "Sorry. Rose is upset about this again, huh?"
Kazou just nodded, already reaching for a pen. Akane quietly placed the stack of lab reports in the corner of his desk.
"Monthly data. Hanasaki needs your review by tomorrow."
Without a word, Kazou opened the top folder and began filling it out. The motion was automatic—his handwriting neat, efficient. He didn't even glance up. Akane stood there for a moment, watching him. Then she spoke again, more gently.
"You know you don't have to do this alone, right?"
Kazou kept writing. His pen scratched softly against the paper. Finally, he looked up and smiled.
"Thanks."
It was warm on the surface, but Akane could tell it didn't reach his eyes. Still, she nodded like she believed it. Maybe that was enough.
"I'll be around if you need anything," she said, turning to leave.
Kazou's pen never stopped moving. The door clicked shut behind her. The room fell quiet again, save for the soft hum of the lights and the steady scratch of ink on paper.
***
The night air was crisp, a light breeze rustling through the leaves of nearby trees as the hum of conversations filled the space outside Mizuki's bar. Laughter spilled out from the open doors, mixing with the low murmur of voices as people lingered in the cool evening. The bar had a cozy charm—soft yellow lights spilling out into the night, creating a warm, welcoming glow. Two young women, both in their early twenties, strolled out of the bar, their laughter echoing in the night. One had short brown hair, messy yet stylish, and a pair of round glasses that gleamed under the streetlights. The other had long, flowing black hair, her features soft. They were talking animatedly, their voices bright and carefree as they passed the sidewalk, but the sound of footsteps caught their attention. Soft, deliberate—loafer shoes tapping against the pavement. They turned to see a man walking toward them. He was slightly taller than average, with striking pale yellow hair that seemed to glow in the dim light. His sharp features were beautiful in an almost unnatural way. He looked to be in his twenties, with piercing blue eyes that studied them with quiet intensity. His lips curled into a soft, serene smile that almost seemed too perfect.
"Excuse me?" His voice was calm, warm, yet somehow chilling. It had an accent that was both unfamiliar and strangely soothing.
The two girls froze for a moment, caught off guard by his beauty. The brown-haired girl, still blinking, stammered,
"Y-yes?"
The young man's smile didn't falter as he tilted his head slightly, eyes never leaving them.
"Would you happen to know where Mizuki's is? I happen to be a tourist."
The black-haired girl quickly recovered, nodding with a smile.
"It's right there," she said, pointing to the glowing sign above the door. "You're here!"
The man followed her gaze, his eyes narrowing just slightly, as if marking the place, his smile not changing, but somehow growing just a little colder.
"I'm home, father," he murmured in Polish, softly, barely audible, as if the words were meant for himself alone.
The girls didn't catch the oddness of his words. They simply nodded and smiled, none the wiser to the coldness beneath his polite demeanor.
The young man turned his head towards them one more time.
"Thank you."
With that, he turned and walked toward the bar, each step purposeful. The two girls watched him go, still processing the brief encounter. As soon as he was out of earshot, they exchanged a glance, their eyes wide with excitement.
"Oh my god," the brown-haired girl squealed, her face flushed. "Did you see him? He was so handsome!"
"I know!" the black-haired girl gushed, still looking after him. "Like... Like something out of a dream..."