Risa didn’t believe a word of it.

Last Tuesday, she saw Kenji’s car parked outside her house. He was pacing beside it, running a hand through his hair, walking toward their front door only to turn back again. Before she could reach him, he got in the car and drove away. She never told their friends what she saw.

When she got home from school today, the house sounded different—warm, familiar. Laughter filled the hallway, the kind she thought she had lost four years ago. But one of those laughs stood out, unmistakable.

Kenji’s.

She rushed to the kitchen. Kenji stood beside her father, both of them working on the pipes her mother had complained about for months. Her mother was cooking. Her little brother sat on the sofa, glued to the cartoons on TV. The scene felt wrong in how right it looked.

“Risa! Change your clothes and prepare snacks. Your boyfriend and I are almost done here,” her father called out, cheerful.

She didn’t correct him. She just nodded and went to her room, confusion chasing after her.

Her parents rarely entertained visitors—especially hers. And why did her father call Kenji her boyfriend? She was glad to see him, but something was off. His hair was unkempt, his shirt wrinkled. He looked exhausted, worn down. Still undeniably handsome, but not in the usual effortless way.

When she returned to the kitchen, Kenji was already packing the tools back into the box. Her mom was setting plates on the table. Her dad lay on the couch beside her little brother.

“You’re here,” she said quietly.

“Yep. Figured I’d come by,” he answered without looking at her.

“I thought you were sick. That’s what your father told us.”

“That was obviously a lie,” he said with a dry chuckle, pushing the toolbox under the sink.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said, stepping toward the sink to wash his hands.

“Look at me, Kenji. What’s happening?” she asked, gently tugging at his sleeve.

“We’ll talk later,” he muttered.

And when he finally looked at her—really looked—she saw it.

Sadness. Confusion. Anger.

All of it sitting behind his eyes like something he wished he didn’t know.

They all sat at the dining table, eating the snacks her mother had prepared. Her father kept asking Kenji questions, and Kenji’s answers were too polite—too neat—to sound like him. It felt rehearsed. Practiced. But the polite little smiles he gave made it easy for her parents to overlook it.

Risa felt the whole meal pressing down on her chest. Every time she blinked, she saw the way Kenji had looked at her earlier.

Her father invited him to stay for dinner, and Kenji agreed, still wearing that polite smile. They excused themselves and headed toward Risa’s room. Kenji told her parents they needed to double-check deadlines and work on their current school project.

Her father waved them off and joked,

“Lock the door, use protection, and try not to make too much noise.”

Kenji laughed.

Risa turned scarlet.

Her mother slapped her father’s arm and told him to behave.

Risa locked her bedroom door behind her.

As soon as the latch clicked, she felt it—Kenji’s presence shifting behind her. Heavy. Cold around the edges. The kind of presence that made people regret ever thinking they could cross him.

She didn’t turn around just yet.

She didn’t have to.

She could feel it in the air: whatever Kenji had been carrying these past five days…

he brought it with him.

“How have you been?” Kenji asked.

They sat beside each other on the bed.

“I’m fine. I’m worried about you, though,” Risa said.

“If you were worried, you wouldn’t lie. I know what you’re hiding, Risa.”

“What is wrong with you? You disappeared for five days. No texts, no calls. And now you show up and call me a liar to my face?” Her eyes were already stinging.

“I’m sorry,” Kenji said, his voice dropping softer. “I miss you too. But I was busy looking for something.”

“For five days, Kenji? One hello would’ve been enough if you needed space.”

“I had to get away from you. Not them—just you.”

Risa blinked at him, confused.

“I never believed you when you said it was just a joke—that you didn’t burn the building,” he continued. “I know you, Risa. Your face said something else. Like someone who let a secret slip.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said it wasn’t me,” she replied.

“I believe it wasn’t you.”

“Then why do you have to distance yourself from me?”

“Because even if you didn’t do it… you know something about it that we don’t.”

Kenji pulled out his phone and showed her the picture of the news clip from June 2008.

“I know the missing girl in this report is you, Risa.”

“What made you think that?” Her voice rose, sharper, angrier.

“The description. Brown hair, brown eyes—”

“It could’ve been anyone!” she shouted.

“Sure. But not anyone has a mole under their left eye and a heart-shaped scar on their right knee. They didn’t put a photo on the poster, but I know it’s you,” Kenji said, calm and steady.

“Get out.”

“Risa, I’m not angry. I just want answers.”

“Get out!” She pointed at the door. Kenji nodded and walked out.

“You’re leaving? Dinner’s almost ready,” her father said.

“Yes, sir. There’s an emergency at home. I’ll stop by again. Thank you for welcoming me,” Kenji replied. Her father opened the door for him.

Risa was crying in her room when her mother knocked.

“It’s not locked,” Risa said, wiping her face.

Her mother sat beside her. “I heard shouting. Are you fighting with your boyfriend?”

“Kind of.”

“You know, I dated your father when I was sixteen too. We fought all the time. Louder than what I heard earlier,” her mother said, holding Risa’s hand.

“Fights are normal. What matters is how you apologize and fix it. Kenji’s a good kid. He didn’t hesitate to help your father with the sink. He introduced himself politely and even apologized for keeping your relationship a secret. And most importantly, I didn’t hear him shout back,” she laughed. “Your father used to shout right back at me when we were younger. So whatever it is, I hope you sort it out. He’s a good kid. I hope you don’t lose him.”

Her mother stood, heading for the door.

“Oh—and one last thing.” She looked back at Risa. “When you fight, it shouldn’t be you against him. It should be both of you against the problem.”

Risa nodded, still wiping her tears.

“Get ready. Dinner will be done in ten minutes.”

》》》》》》》》》》

Kenji was driving too fast. His grip on the steering wheel wouldn’t loosen, no matter how hard he tried. He needed to clear his head, so he stayed on the road instead of going home.

He didn’t expect Risa to admit anything. He knew she’d deny it.

But he didn’t expect the anger. The way she snapped. The way she kicked him out.

She didn’t say yes. She didn’t say no.

She just shut the door on him and let him walk away with nothing.

The frustration clawed at him. Not at her, but at the silence she wrapped around the truth.

His foot pressed down harder. The car trembled. His vision swam, and he didn’t realize he was crying until he blinked the tears off his lashes.

Blue-and-red lights flashed behind him. A police car.

He kept checking the side mirror, watching it trail him. Watching the lights bounce off the road.

Then—

he blinked.

The car was gone.

A cold shiver shot through him. That one moment of shock was all it took.

He didn’t see himself drifting off the road.

He didn’t see the tree rushing toward him.

Metal crunched. Glass cracked. The world snapped forward and then fell still.

Kenji lifted his head, dazed, dizzy.

Someone stood outside his window.

A man.

Motionless.

Watching him through the dark.

There were no stars. No moon. Just the outline of a figure carved from the night itself.

“Kenji…” the man said.

Kenji’s voice came out weak. “Who… who are you?”

The man stepped closer.

He raised one hand—slow, deliberate.

And the window rolled down by itself.

No buttons pressed.

No sound except the soft whirr of the motor obeying his gesture.

For a second, Kenji wondered if he was already dead.

If this was Death.

Or something pretending to be human.

“You don’t know me,” the man said, his voice flat, almost gentle.

“But I’ll make you remember.”

He reached through the open window and pressed his palm to Kenji’s forehead.

Cold.

Heavy.

Final.

Kenji’s consciousness slipped.

Everything went black.