The city slid by slowly through Yuki’s car window. The kind of day where even the light seemed hesitant.

But then she stopped the car. In front of a nursing home.

I frowned.

— Hey, Takeuchi Masanori’s wife doesn’t live here.

— I need to talk to my mother before we keep working on the case. You know how family is — Yuki said, her tone more serious than usual.

It was rare to see that side of her. And rarely did it give me confidence.

We got out of the car. The building was simple, but clean. The smell of the place was a mix of disinfectant and stalled time. Caretakers moved up and down the halls in automatic rhythm. The kind of place where the end of the line is wrapped in clean sheets and occasional visits.

Every time a big case shows up, Yuki insists on coming here. I used to find this habit of hers irritating, even selfish. Today… maybe I understand. Tomorrow is never certain.

Her mother’s room was absurdly tidy. Sheets stretched tight like a display, blankets folded with precision. There were flowers on a shelf — clear signs of frequent visits. Probably from Yuki herself.

The old woman was sitting with her back to us, staring out the window. Gray hair neatly combed. In a wheelchair. A silent presence, as if she were part of the furniture.

— Hi, mom — Yuki said.

The woman slowly turned. She smiled.

Yuki returned the smile with a soft look. Almost childlike.

But me… I always expect the worst. And there was something in Yuki’s smile that unsettled me. It was… too polite. As if it were hiding something. Whatever it was, I figured it wasn’t my problem.

She knelt before her mother and hugged her tightly. The old woman stroked her daughter’s hair with a gesture full of tenderness.

— Mom, I’m working on a big case right now, and I don’t think I’ll be able to come for a while. I just wanted to tell you that, okay?

— It’s alright, my daughter, I understand. But don’t push yourself too hard. You get so focused on work… don’t forget to have some fun too.

Have fun? That woman clearly didn’t know the daughter she had. Yuki made jokes out of everything and everyone.

Yuki kissed her mother’s forehead, and we left the room. We headed back to the car. The sun was too high, throwing hard shadows across the sidewalks.

We got into the car in silence. The kind of silence that doesn’t ask for company. I glanced sideways. Yuki seemed distant. Thoughtful. Strange, seeing her like that. Usually I was the one dragging around dead weight in my mood.

We drove to the next stop. The house of Takeuchi Masanori’s wife.

It was a simple but well-kept place. A garden in bloom. The colors didn’t seem to fit the mood. They felt… misplaced. The kind of place where one tries to keep appearances alive.

I knocked on the door.

An older woman answered. Hair tied back, a weary face. Empty eyes. She seemed to look through me and Yuki, as if we were miles away. So this was Fumiko.

— Hello?

— We’re with the police, ma’am. We came to ask you some questions about your husband — I replied.

— Police?

She looked a little disoriented, as if reality were slipping through her fingers. Something in her eyes sent a shiver down my spine — it wasn’t just grief.

I swallowed the feeling. A strange unease stuck to my skin… but I ignored it. I was here to solve this case — the rest, I pushed down deep.