We entered the small grocery store. It was tiny, but surprisingly well-maintained. Clean floors, organized shelves, everything with an almost obsessive care, as if the owner spent more time cleaning than selling.

The rain was drumming outside, a constant sound that seemed to remind me every second that the world was literally falling apart. Yuki was right behind me, but not for long. As usual, she pushed past me without ceremony and went straight to the counter.

The man who served us was in his thirties, with a scruffy beard and an unpleasant habit of scratching it constantly. With every scratch, a storm of dandruff rained down onto the counter. Sometimes he'd wipe it away with his hand. Sometimes he'd just leave it there, like it was part of the decor. I felt like going back out into the rain.

Yuki, as usual, took control of the conversation. She asked to see the security cameras with that smiling, sly little way she had when she wanted something. While she chattered away, my eyes wandered to the TV hanging high on the wall. A local news broadcast.

And then, of course... the story that seemed tailor-made to screw up my life: Takeuchi Masanori's suicide. They were also naming him as a suspect in the mayor's disappearance.

Great.

When I turned my attention back to Yuki, she was visibly irritated. No, irritated wasn't strong enough. She was furious. She launched into a monologue loaded with swear words, insults, accusations, and terms I didn't even know she knew. I swear, in one minute she spewed so much crap that my brain shut down in self-defense.

— Don't you agree? — she asked, huffing, her eyes blazing.

— Yeah, I guess so — I replied automatically, with no clue what I was agreeing to.

— We have to investigate who's leaking these stories and...

— No. — I interrupted. — That's irrelevant. We already know there's a media informant inside the precinct. Wasting time on that now is pointless.

— So, to your place?

— That works. Cockroaches don't leak information. But let's focus on the now. Is he going to show us the cameras?

— Yeah, he is.

We were led to a tiny room in the back of the store. It felt like stepping into a coffin that smelled of mold. The air seemed stale, bottled up. I doubted anyone had used that place in years. Yuki and I sat on plastic chairs while the clerk turned on the security system.

Time passed slowly. Very slowly.

Yuki kept getting up to buy snacks. She'd always been restless — like she ran on sugar — and now was no different. Me, on the other hand, I kept my eyes glued to the footage. I wasn't expecting to find anything. Maybe that's why I was surprised when something finally showed up.

It was him. Takeuchi Masanori.

In the video, Masanori was sitting on a park bench. He looked calm, breathing deeply, like someone seeking a bit of peace — something pretty normal. For a moment, he just seemed like that: an exhausted man trying to breathe.

But then another guy approached. A stranger. Masanori's posture shifted subtly — discomfort, maybe a remnant of alertness — but he didn't react, just stayed there ignoring the unknown man.

The stranger started swaying his head from side to side, as if listening to imaginary music. That bothered me. It felt familiar.

I remembered right away. Masanori, handcuffed in the back of Yuki's car, had done exactly that. His head rocking slowly, gaze distant, like he was dancing with something only he could hear.

I paused it. Looked closer.

The man had it on him. The black slime.

Masanori stared at him, confused. And then came the attack. Fast. Brutal. The stranger knocked him down with a punch, and then bit his arm.

Yes. He bit Masanori's arm.

In the footage, Masanori quickly shoved him away, and his panic was clear as he started running desperately. The other man, the slime carrier, just stood there. He looked straight at the camera and... smiled. Made faces. Swayed like a silly child playing alone. Then he walked off, as if nothing had happened.

Yuki, who'd just come back with another bag of snacks, saw the video. She went pale.

— Fumiko lied...

— What do you mean? — I asked, with a bad feeling.

— She said she had a fight with Masanori in the park. But in this video... she doesn't even show up.

She was right. Fumiko's story didn't add up. If she wasn't there, how did she know what happened? And if Masanori was attacked... why did she say they argued?

Nothing made sense. Nothing connected. It was like trying to put together a puzzle where the pieces belonged to different boxes. The only thing running through my head besides that was how all this tied into my daughter's disappearance.

And then Yuki's phone rang. I saw the name on the screen: the medical examiner.

Yuki answered. In a few seconds, her face tensed up. When she hung up, she looked at me.

— I got the report on Masanori's body... — she said, her voice faltering. — The black slime... it's not a substance. It's a parasite.