I drove Yuki’s car like every second was another step toward my own end. My heart pounded uncontrollably, adrenaline burning through my veins. Only one thought ran through my mind: _she’s going to my apartment_. It was too obvious. If I were in her place, I’d start there too. And I couldn’t let her get there before me. Not now… not when I was so close to fitting the last piece of this damn puzzle together.

I stopped the car in front of the building, left the door open without looking back, and ran up the stairs like a condemned man trying to escape the noose. As soon as I entered the apartment, I went straight to the closet. I grabbed an old backpack—worn, dirty, a zipper slightly crooked—but it would do. I threw clothes in haphazardly, not thinking. On top, I shoved the case evidence. Before leaving, I took one last look around.

Cockroaches paraded across the floor like legitimate tenants. Trash spread across the corners, dust ruled every surface. It was the perfect picture of my own decay. And even that, I’d have to leave behind.

I took a deep breath. Closed the door.

When I got near Yuki’s car, I hesitated. Using it now would draw too much attention. Better take the subway. And I ran to the station.

I sat on a bench, trying to look calm while my mind spun like a broken fan: noisy, useless, and aimless. No plan made sense. No exit seemed safe.

Then something slipped from my pocket.

A photo.

I bent down and picked it up. The face of the missing boy… Renji. On the back, a scribbled address. I stared at it for a few seconds, then an idea sparked. If Renji disappeared because of an infected… maybe investigating his case could give me new clues about everything.

The sun beat down as I reached the street listed. The heat clung to my skin, but I kept going until I stopped in front of a simple house. This was it. I climbed the steps and knocked.

Tomoe appeared shortly after. Her gaze ran over me, measuring every detail. When she recognized me, I saw, for a brief moment, something like hope ignite in her eyes.

— So, you found something about my son? Any clue about the case?

— Well… I came to ask about your son, Tomoe. Can I come in?

Her expression shifted. Suppressed anger, accumulated over days.

— Only now are you starting to investigate my case? — Tomoe asked, in a tone of revolt.

I took a deep breath.

— As you know… I’ve been investigating my daughter’s case. And… as my investigation progressed… I believe the cases may be connected.

It was vague. And intentionally so. I didn’t want—maybe couldn’t—drag Tomoe in more than necessary.

Then she noticed my hand.

— My God, what happened to your hand?! — Tomoe said, surprised.

I looked at her as if I’d just remembered the injury. Among so many things, Yuki’s shot had almost been lost in the pile of problems.

— This? Don’t worry, it’s just a scratch. So, I wanted…

— Come in, I’ll take care of that wound. — Tomoe interrupted me, almost authoritatively.

I stepped inside. The contrast with my apartment was almost offensive: every corner gleamed, furniture so polished it could serve as mirrors. On the shelves, books were aligned by color. Ornaments arranged by size. An organization so precise it bordered on compulsion.

Soon after, Tomoe returned with first-aid supplies. She sat down and, with meticulous care, began tending to my hand.

I glanced around and noticed a photo of her with Renji.

— Beautiful photo.

She fixed her gaze on it, as if drawn into that memory. A faint smile escaped.

— He was so happy that day. We went out to catch insects… he loved discovering new species… — Tomoe said, with a slightly sad smile.

— I understand. Emi… she could barely look at a beetle without screaming.

— Why exactly are you here? — Tomoe asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

— As I said: if I found something connecting the cases, I’d find your son… Well, I think this could be it. If I find my daughter, I might at least discover what happened to Renji.

— What connects my son’s case to your daughter’s?

— I can’t say. I just know I’m on the right path. And the only thing that can stop me now… is a bullet to the head. And that’s if I’m lucky.

She furrowed her brow, intrigued.

— What do you want to know about Renji’s case?

— Well, to start, can you remind me exactly how Renji disappeared?

Tomoe hesitated. She held her own arm, as if the memories weighed her down. Her voice was low.

— I left Renji at home because I was going to run a quick errand at a nearby market. It was about ten minutes.

— Was the market far from here?

— No, I usually walk. About four minutes. I took roughly twenty… and when I returned, the door was open, the house ransacked.

Tears came. Awkwardly, I ran my hand along her back—as if trying to put out a fire with a glass of water.

— I remember you said your neighbor seemed strange…

— Yes, I suspect him… He used to be a good neighbor. He worked with children, so he knew how to communicate with them.

— Worked with children? Hmm… in what capacity?

Tomoe thought, frowning.

— I’m not sure exactly, but I know he worked at an orphanage… Wings of Dawn, if I’m not mistaken.

The name hit me like a punch. I froze.

Perhaps this case was exactly the piece I needed to complete my puzzle.