Benjiro’s lips trembled, parting as if to speak—but before a sound escaped, Dean stepped forward in a shocking move.

He raised his arms, placing himself between Benjiro and the gun, body tense in a defensive stance. Protecting. Shielding.

Unlike Benjiro, Dean’s eyes carried determination—not pure fear.

Not like before.

Not like when he faced Ayane.

Ayane tilted her head toward the sound of Dean’s voice, her breath catching in disbelief.

“He’s not the type to act without a reason,” Dean said. “Please… lower the gun.”

His voice trembled, but the words carried weight.

For a long, tense beat, Daiki’s gaze locked with Dean’s, sharp and unyielding. 

Tension coiled tight between them, an invisible wire straining.

He didn’t know where Dean found the courage to stand there, daring to believe Daiki wouldn’t shoot.

But still, Daiki couldn’t help but admire it.

A slow, involuntary smile curved his lips as Dean stood firm before the gun.

Daiki lowered it slightly—but his questions burned hotter.

“If you don’t want your friend to die,” he said, “convince him to talk before I lose my patience.”

Dean’s heart sank. He had to act—had to save Benjiro, and himself.

His lips parted… but Benjiro suddenly gripped his arm, stepping forward.

Purpose lit Benjiro’s movements. 

He didn’t want to appear weak in front of Dean—and he couldn’t let harm fall on the person dearest to him.

Dean blinked, startled, as Benjiro said without hesitation:
“Me kidnapping you—” his grip on Dean’s arm tightened— “has nothing to do with him.”

He faced Daiki’s unreadable stare and pressed on.
“Like I told you—I only wanted revenge for my brother. That’s it.”

Silence fell, heavy and suffocating.

Dean stared at his friend, shocked.

This was Benjiro—the gentle, careful boy who had always been at his side?

Now standing here, confessing to kidnapping, to blood and guns?

Daiki’s voice cut through the stillness, low and sharp:
“You endangered the people I care about—because of your revenge.”

Benjiro steadied himself. “My men weren’t the ones who attacked your family.”

Daiki’s brow arched, disbelief flickering across his face.

But Benjiro didn’t stop, he continued firmly:
“When my men arrived, another group was already there. They opened fire on us first. We only shot back in self-defense. Our target was you. Nothing else.”

Daiki’s eyes narrowed, processing his words.

Still—unforgivable. Benjiro had crossed a line.

“Even if what you’re saying is true…” Daiki flicked the gun, the steel glinting in the dim light, “…a lot of people were caught in that fight. How do you intend to make up for it?”

Benjiro’s answer came steady, unwavering.
“What do you want?”

The room grew tighter, the tension was suffocating.

Dean could no longer stand still. 

His chest burned with the urge to intervene—to defend his friend—but before he could, he noticed the faint curl of Daiki’s lips. 

Smirk. Sarcastic.

“I’m not the one who’ll decide your punishment.”

He tilted his head slightly, thumb gesturing behind him.
“She is.”

Benjiro turned.

Ayane sat with legs crossed, posture still, radiating an authority that filled the room like smoke.

She had not spoken once—not yet.

Daiki reached for his phone. “I should inform your mother about this.”

But finally, Ayane’s voice cut through, calm and sharp.
“Hold on.”

Daiki froze, thumb hovering above the screen.

Ayane leaned slightly forward, tilting her head toward the silence.
“Since these two are partners in crime, there’s something else we need to discuss before informing my mother.”

A pause. Then her tone dropped, sharp and commanding:
“Right, Michael?”

Dean flinched.
Michael. The name he had used when he first met her.

He clenched his fists, trying to steady himself—but his body betrayed the nerves crawling under his skin. 

She was calling him out.

“If you refuse to reveal what you told me earlier,” Ayane continued, her voice quiet but firm,
“then be sure—both you and your friend will face severe punishment. Even Daiki won’t be able to help you.”

She leaned back, letting the weight of her words sink in.
“So… speak.”

Dean froze under her command. Cold sweat traced his spine.

Both Daiki and Benjiro turned toward him, confusion in their silence.

It was as though he and Ayane spoke in a secret code only they knew.

His lips quivered. He hadn’t expected this moment to come so soon.

What would happen if he confessed?
Would Daiki forgive him? Smile? Welcome him?

No.
The truth would reopen wounds—wounds deep enough to have once sent Daiki to the hospital.

Dean knew there could be no forgiveness. 

Not after everything.

His mind spiraled—fear of facing Daiki on one side, Benjiro’s life hanging by a thread on the other.

Both pulling at him until at last, he forced himself to lift his head, just slightly.

His gaze remained fixed on the floor, unable to meet Daiki’s eyes.

“My name is Dean…” His throat tightened. Saliva thickened like stone, even swallowing hurt.
“…I’m the son of Congressman Leyton.”

The words left his lips and he squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself.

He didn’t see the way Daiki’s expression shifted. 

Didn’t see Benjiro’s body jolt in shock.

Only Ayane remained calm. She had known.

The silence that followed was suffocating. 

A shadow seemed to hang over Daiki, his stillness darker than anger.

Daiki’s fingers tightened around the gun, knuckles paling. 

His silence was louder than any scream—only the pounding of his heartbeat broke through it.

Ayane tilted her head, surprised her uncle hadn’t spoken yet.

Then finally—

“Ayane.”

Daiki’s voice was low. Terrifying.

She tilted toward the sound, waiting.

“Please get out.” 

His tone left no room for argument.

Ayane hesitated, stiffened.  But then nodded. She knew the storm brewing inside him.
“…Okay.”

As she rose and headed toward the door, Daiki spoke again.

“You too, kid,” A beat. “Get out.”

Benjiro hesitated, panic tightening his chest. “No. I—”

Ayane interrupted sharply, understanding Daiki’s wish.

“Come with me. Or I’ll have you dragged. Your choice.”

Benjiro froze.

He turned to Dean—head bowed, body trembling like a condemned man awaiting judgment.

He wanted to stay.

But the moment Daiki’s eyes flicked to him, his blood froze.
And Dean’s silent glance told him everything: Go.

So he followed Ayane to the door, his gaze clinging to Dean until the wood shut between them.

The latch clicked shut.

Dean was left alone with Daiki.

Dean dared not lift his head.

And Daiki… hadn’t moved a single inch.

Dean knew… the storm was about to break—no shield, no escape.

And in the silence, a new presence was waiting to step into the chaos… only the next chapter will reveal who they are.

T o B e  C o n t i n u e d ...

Author’s Note 🌸

Hey everyone 
This chapter was heavy to write, and I think it will be even heavier to read—Dean finally unmasks the truth, and the fallout begins.

The storm has started. But this is just the beginning.
If you think you know how Daiki will react, drop your theory in the comments… I’ll be watching closely 

Thank you for reading, liking, and subscribing. 

Your support means the world—it keeps me going! 💌