Quickly, after seeing that damned news report, I throw on some clothes as fast as I can. I lock the door behind me, rushing down the stairs without thinking, almost tripping over my own feet. The street is cold, empty, just one or two lost souls wandering around — nothing unusual for three-thirty in the morning. My head pounds. I don’t know if it’s from last night’s beer or from my whole life.

I stand there, at the curb, waiting for a cab. That’s when I feel it.  

That cursed sensation.  

Like something watching me, hidden in the dark.  

I look around — flickering lampposts, a tipped-over trash can, a drunk dragging himself far away. Nothing new. Nothing that explains the ice crawling down my spine. Maybe it’s just exhaustion. Or... maybe I’ve finally gone insane.

The cab arrives. I get in and say the destination with a dry voice:

— Police station.

On the way, the world outside looks like a blurred painting — dirty lights, faceless people, silence screaming in my ears.

When we arrive, the station is already surrounded. The whole media circus seemed to have sprouted out of the ground, like cockroaches at a party. Cameras, microphones, people shouting for any scrap of news.

I call Yuki. She picks up fast:

— Yuki, it’s chaos out here. How do I get in?

— Go around to the back of the station. I’ll meet you there.

I hang up. Circle the block. The stench of fermented garbage hits me like a punch. Rats — at least three of them — taking turns at a miserable feast. One of them stares at me for a second, as if to say, “Welcome to rock bottom.”

As I cross that stinking alley, the feeling returns.  

That invisible presence, glued to my back.  

I hear something behind me. A snap, a scratch... or maybe just the wind screwing with my head.

I turn around, alert. Nothing but trash and rats digging like always. Maybe it really was just in my head. Maybe last night was only a nightmare that felt too real.

Yuki opens the back door suddenly, making me almost draw my gun from the scare.

— Get in, quick — she says, with that nervous urgency that makes me even more uneasy.

I step inside. The station breathes tension. Yuki walks fast, no smile.

— Damn it... Why did this news have to leak now of all times? Why can’t they chase celebrity cheating scandals instead? — she mutters.

— The more important question... why did it leak? — I ask, lighting a cigarette, not caring who disapproves.

— It was the butler. — She sighs, annoyed. — Some investigative reporter started digging into the mayor’s disappearance. They pressured the old man and boom... he spilled everything.

— Gossiping butler... so now what?

— Now the chief is pissed. He wants blood. He’ll have to solve the case fast. And if he doesn’t find the culprit, he’ll grab some random guy off the street and make him take the fall.

— Poor random guy. — I drag the smoke slowly, feeling my throat burn.

Yuki shoots me that anti-smoking sermon look. I just roll my eyes. Fake morality tires me more than any cigarette.

She folds her arms:

— So? Next steps?

I think for a moment, letting the smoke out through my nose.

— We’ve got too many questions and no answers. — My gaze hardens. — For instance, what was that black sludge coming out of our mystery man?

— They’re analyzing the material. We should get the reports soon. — she replies, a bit impatient.

— But... who was he? That’s the second question. My theory? He was connected to the mayor. He called her “evil,” remember?

Yuki pulls a file from her pocket and hands it to me. Cheap paper, ink still fresh. My eyes run over the details:

---

**Registry File – Aokusa City Police**  

File No.: AO-2025-4931  

Full Name: Takeuchi Masanori  

Date of Birth: August 12, 1975  

Age: 50  

Gender: Male  

Nationality: Japanese  

Marital Status: Married  

Spouse: Takeuchi Fumiko  

Home Address: Aokusa City, Midorigaoka District 3-12-5  

Occupation: Retired (former municipal finance department employee)  

Criminal Record: None registered

---

I skim it quickly. Three key details jump out:  

First, we know who our man is — Takeuchi Masanori.  

Second, he’s married — which means we can pressure the wife, Fumiko.  

Third, ex-finance department employee...  

There’s the connection to the mayor.

It all starts to fit together.  

But... no.  

Something inside me screams this is just the tip of the iceberg.  

And the bottom is far, far darker.

I tuck the file away and look at Yuki:

— We’ve got a starting point. Let’s pay his wife, Fumiko, a visit. Has anyone told her about his death?

— Well... actually, she came here before we even arrived yesterday. — Yuki scratches her head, clearly uneasy. — They said she was desperate because he was missing.

— Great. — I smirk. — Then we’ll head over there in a few hours. Right now it’s still too early. For now, I’m gonna grab some water — my throat’s dry.

— Water? — Yuki teases. — Must be that throat ruined by cigarettes.

I give her a nasty look. Nothing she’s not used to. I walk over to the reception.

The station is buzzing with anxiety, but inside... the silence is almost unbearable.  

I reach the water dispenser, fill a plastic cup with cold water.

As I drink, I see a woman come in.  

Crying. Desperate.

— I want my son! — she screams. — Why aren’t you looking for him?!

The officer at the desk tries to calm her:

— Miss, we’re doing everything we can, but we haven’t found anything yet...

— How not?! — she sobs, her voice tearing her throat. — I just stepped out for two seconds... and when I came back, everything was overturned! Bring him back... please...

My heart freezes.  

A chill runs through me.  

The cup of water almost slips from my hand.

This...  

This was exactly like Emi’s case.

Same scene.  

Same despair.

Coincidence?  

I stopped believing in coincidences a long time ago.

It was just another missing child. And I already knew how this story ended.