Kenji had never eaten so much real food in his life. Not convenience store ramen. Not microwaved curry. Real food.

The night before, Ismail had invited literally everyone for dinner. Neighbors. Cousins. Cousins of cousins. Even a local goat. Half the village crammed into the small courtyard like it was a festival.

Kenji’s social battery was already blinking red before the appetizers hit the table.

He tried to keep up. Smiled, nodded, laughed at jokes he barely understood. Drank that yogurt drink (which hit harder than he’d admit), piled saffron rice on his plate, devoured smoky kebabs and crunchy salad.

Then came the dancing. There were lots of drums, hips and hands involved. Kenji had zero clue what he was doing, but he gave it his all, trying not to look like a total idiot.

After what felt like a hundred conversations (and more cardamom cookies than legally safe), Kenji crawled onto a rug in the living room and passed out.

Somewhere between dream and digestion, Kenji had heard that familiar voice…

“Kenji!!”

He sat up groggily on the carpet, the music still echoing in his brain. The guests — including that suspicious goat who had stared at him like it knew his search history — were long gone. A faint smell of kabab and tea lingered in the air.

“G-God?!”

“No, baka! It’s me, Akari!”

“A-Akari? Where are you?”

“I should ask you that! What the hell happened?! You missed the final exam!”

On-screen, the boy stretched awkwardly, scratching his head.

“About that…”

THUD. THUD. THUD.

A rough knock thundered on the door. Akari jumped in her seat.

“NAKANO POLICE!! OPEN UP!!”

What the—?!

Voices shouted. A cat screeched. Glass shattered.

“AKARI?!” Kenji shouted. “What’s going on?!”

Did she get arrested for breaking into my apartment?
Did she hacked something?

The mudhouse’s door creaked open.

Kenji nearly launched into a flying kick.

Ismail walked in, balancing a tray of steaming tea and rock sugar.

“Morning,” he said casually. “You were talking in your sleep again… Something about bakas and the police.”

“I-I think my crush just got arrested,” Kenji muttered.

“Drink your tea, my friend, don’t think too much.”

Kenji sipped obediently.

It tasted like mint and anxiety.

“I’ll need your help today,” Ismail added. “Nothing much.”

Kenji just knew he was in for a full day of unpaid-labor and tool-fetching.

“S-Sure!”

Man, I miss my bed!

BRR!

The door burst open.

“FREEZE! HANDS UP!”

Akari froze. Two police officers stormed into the apartment, following by a tall man in a weather-beaten leather trench coat. He lit a cigarette without breaking stride.

“Is this your apartment, miss?”

“N-No! It’s my friend’s!” Akari stammered. “I had a key, I swear—I didn’t break in or anything!”

The detective exhaled like he’d heard that song before.

“Bag that, Suzuki” he snapped, pointing to an envelope on the table.

The younger officer moved quickly, gloves on, slipping the letter into a sleek evidence pouch.

“We got a tip from upstairs,” the detective said, removing his aviator shades, revealing cold steel-blue eyes. “This one’s classified Delta-level cybercrime.”

“HUH?! What-”

Akari was this close to break down crying.

The second officer swept a UV light over Kenji’s desk.

“Boss! She is downloading something!”

“GET AWAY FROM THE TERMINAL!” the detective said calmly, pulling a massive silver revolver.

Akari raised her hands higher, voice shaking. “I didn’t download anything! I was just trying to talk to my friend!”

“Back away. Slowly. Don’t touch a thing,” the detective said, gesturing with his gloved hand. “You’re under arrest.”

“Just tell me what’s going on!”

The detective lowered his revolver and pulled out a grainy photograph from his coat. He tossed it on the table.

A boy in a school uniform, stepping into a glowing screen.

“That your friend?” he asked, flicking ash onto the floor.

“Leave him alone!” she snapped. “He didn’t do anything!”

The detective stared out the window. Rain traced ghostly lines on the glass.

“He might just be the first successful digital reality transfer.”

Click.

Handcuffs locked around her wrists.

“People out there would kill for that tech…”

He put back his sunglasses.

“Can’t let that happen.”

“I don’t know anything!” Akari cried, her voice cracking. “I’m just a high school girl!”

The detective stubbed out his cigarette.

Ssst.

“Too late, Miss Kondo.”