Kazou sat hunched over the bar, staring into the amber swirl at the bottom of his glass. His reflection rippled in it. Beside him sat Rose, arms crossed, posture rigid, her lips pressed into a thin line. Tension radiated off her like heat. Neither of them spoke. Then the bar door creaked open. Both their heads turned, almost instinctively. A tall young man stepped through the entrance. His coat was dark, tailored, clinging just right to his frame. Pale blond hair swept slightly to one side, his features sharp and symmetrical, almost too perfect. There was a calmness to him—a slow grace in the way he moved, like he didn't belong in chaos. His presence was subtle, but impossible to ignore.
"Is this seat taken?" His voice was smooth. Gentle. The kind that could almost be mistaken for kind.
Kazou gave a slight motion, no words. A nod toward the empty stool beside him. Kazou glanced at him briefly. Handsome. Polished. But there was something in the eyes. Something he couldn't place.
The young man sat. Rose shot a glance his way, then turned back to her drink. Kazou studied the stranger's profile for a moment. There was something familiar about him. Something in the eyes. He shook the feeling off. Then Rose broke the silence.
"So," she finally said, her voice low and sharp. "That map you've been hiding under the lab papers? The one Akane found?"
Kazou sighed.
"Rose, not here."
"No," she snapped. "Exactly here. You know how embarrassing it was to find out from her that my fiancé's been building a conspiracy wall in our office like a madman?"
"It's not a conspiracy."
"Then what is it, Kazou? You've been doing this for ten years behind my back. You said we were moving on. You said we were healing."
Kazou turned toward her, his tone still soft.
"I am healing. This is part of it."
Rose scoffed, bitter.
"Digging through old files and scribbling on a wall like some obsessed detective? That's healing to you?"
Kazou's brow furrowed. "I need answers. I always did."
"There were no answers," she said through gritted teeth. "Ten disappeared. Nine vanished. The case was closed. Do you think you're the only one who cared? I lost them, too."
Kazou looked down at his glass. "I think about them every day."
"And yet you keep choosing ghosts over the people still here."
"I didn't mean to hurt you." Kazou exhaled.
She didn't respond. Instead, Rose reached into her bag with trembling hands. She pulled out a bundle—soft fabric, a tiny folded shirt with a cartoon sun printed on it. A box of cheap chocolates he once gave her after a fight. A crumpled photo of them, smiling, standing in front of the research building before it all went wrong. She slammed them onto the counter.
"Here. You can keep these. Just like you keep everything else."
Kazou's voice cracked. "Rose—"
"No." She stood abruptly, grabbing her coat. "We're done."
Kazou rose after her, eyes wide.
"Wait—please. Just listen to me. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just wanted to make it right. Those kids… They were ours, Rose. And something happened that night."
Rose turned, her eyes glistening, not from sentiment, but fury.
"You think I don't know that? I know something happened that night! I've told you millions of times, though, Kazou, but you'd never listen! They weren't children! They were experiments. Even if you don't always want them to be... They will never be as valuable or equal to a real human life!!!"
"No! They're equal! They deserved to be a valuable as a human life! I know you loved them, Rose! There was a killer. Someone with intention!"
Her face twisted into something close to heartbreak.
"And what about your intentions, Kazou?" Her voice was low, sharp, measured like a blade. "Tell me—when was the last time you actually chose me?"
He didn't speak. Couldn't.
"I gave you everything I had left. You were supposed to come back. But here you are—still chasing ghosts." Her eyes didn't flinch. "You forgot the living, Kazou. You forgot me."
"R-Rose… P-please… I never wanted to hurt you! I love you~" Kazou's voice trembled.
She stood at the door, hand on the frame. For a moment, she looked back. Not at him, but through him. Then, from her coat pocket, she pulled something small.
"Spare me, Kazou," she muttered. "I still can't believe I said yes to you." A pause. Then a flicker of cold amusement. "Oh—and I almost forgot. Your money back."
The engagement ring hit the floor with a dull clink, rolling in slow, uneven circles before settling near his feet.
"That's your refund."
She didn't wait for him to speak again.
The door creaked shut behind her like the last word in an argument that had ended long ago. Kazou remained standing, numb, fists clenched tight at his sides, the air thick with everything he hadn't said. Kazou stood there, frozen, staring at the ring. His hands trembled.