Chapter 17: The Line That Shouldn’t Be Crossed

The message was simple.

Too simple for what it meant.

Unikawa stared at the screen for a moment before pressing send.

Fred Berat.

Hanna Berat — marked dead.

Old records confirmed.

No extra words.

No explanation.

If Silvano understood even half of it… it would be enough.

Silvano read the message standing by the window.

Once.

Twice.

His fingers tightened slightly around the phone.

Fred.

Again.

Before uniwaka could process the information in the diary fully—

another notification cut through.

Two branches seized. Confirmed under Kabane control.

For a second, he didn’t move.

Then his jaw locked.

“…So they’ve decided.”

Not business.

Not pressure.

This was escalation.

He didn’t type.

He called.

The line connected quickly.

“Tell me this is contained,” unikawa said, his voice controlled—but tight beneath the surface. 

Silvano reply came after a brief pause.

“It isn’t.”

Silence stretched between them.

Not awkward.

Heavy.

Silvano exhaled slowly, turning his gaze toward the city below.

“This is their last move,” he said.

“And our last chance to stop this before it becomes something else.”

“…You’re planning to talk,” Unikawa said.

Not a question.

A conclusion.

“Yes.”

A pause.

“I’m arranging a meeting.”

Unikawa didn’t respond immediately.

So Silvano continued—

“I need you there.”

Another pause.

“And Kiritatsu will be present.”

That changed the air.

Unikawa’s tone lowered slightly.

“…You’re putting two opposites in the same room.”

“I know.”

“…And you still think this will end in negotiation?”

Silvano’s answer was quiet.

“I think this is the only way it might.”

A long silence followed.

Then—

“…Fine,” Unikawa said.

"Let's end what they started." 

They met at the required location.

The meeting location was deliberate.

Isolated.

Neutral ground.

No symbols.

No names.

Just a place built for decisions that couldn’t exist anywhere else.

Silvano arrived first.

His men positioned around the perimeter—silent, alert.

Kiritatsu stood a few steps away, adjusting his cuffs, impatience visible in the way his fingers tapped once… then stopped.

“You’re still doing this your way?” he muttered.

Silvano didn’t look at him.

“Until it fails.”

Kiritatsu smirked faintly.

“It already has.”

Unikawa arrived last.

Walking in calmly.

Measured steps.

No hesitation.

No emotion on his face.

But his eyes—

were sharper than usual.

"Let's go" 

He mumbled before opening the door.

Inside, the room was colder.

Not in temperature.

In presence.

At the center sat a large man—broad, heavy, composed.

Not Kabane.

But someone trusted enough to speak in his place.

“That’s your representative?” Silvano asked.

The man leaned back slightly.

“That’s enough for today.”

Kiritatsu scoffed under his breath.

“Coward sends a shadow.”

Silvano lifted his hand slightly.

Not to silence—

but to steady.

“Let him speak.”

They sat.

The silence wasn’t empty.

It was measuring.

Calculating.

Waiting.

“We return what was taken,” the man began.

His voice was steady. Almost calm.

“Your seized branches. Your operations.”

Kiritatsu leaned forward slightly.

“So you break something… then offer to fix it?”

The man didn’t react.

“This isn’t charity.”

Silvano’s voice cut in.

“Then say it clearly.”

A pause.

Then—

“This ends.”

Unikawa finally spoke.

“…And we’re expected to trust that?”

The man’s lips curved slightly.

“You don’t need to trust it.”

“You need to accept it.”

The conversation stretched.

Layer by layer.

Terms.

Conditions.

Half-truths wrapped in calm voices.

And all of it—

balanced on something unseen.

Meanwhile—

At home—

time moved differently.

Slower.

Softer.

Liz moved around the kitchen, sleeves slightly rolled, helping her mother with small things that didn’t feel important.

But they were.

Her mother glanced at her.

“You skipped school just for this?”

Liz smiled lightly.

“I needed a break.”

“…Or you were lazy.”

“Maybe both.”

A quiet laugh.

Simple.

Unaware.

The doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it,” Liz said, already moving.

Her mother didn’t stop her.

Why would she?

It was just a door.

Liz opened it.

And paused.

A delivery uniform.

Cap low.

Face partially hidden.

Something about it felt… off.

Before she could process it—

a hand shot forward.

Gripped her arm.

Hard.

“Don’t make a sound.”

Her breath caught—

but instinct was faster.

“Mama—!”

Her voice broke the air.

Her mama heard the scream and dropped the cup in her hand in panic.

Her mother rushed in immediately.

“What happened—”

She stopped.

The scene froze her in place.

“Let her go,” she said, stepping forward.

No hesitation.

No fear in her voice.

Just urgency.

“Take whatever you want—but leave her.”

The masked figure pulled out a weapon.

“Stay back.”

Liz struggled.

“Let me go—!”

Her movements made everything unstable.

Uncontrolled.

A second voice shouted from outside—

“Hurry up—!”

The grip tightened.

The weapon shifted.

Hands moved.

Too fast.

Too close.

And then—

a sharp sound cut through everything.

Silence.

Her mother’s body stilled.

Liz’s world did too.

“…Mama?”

No response.

Just stillness that didn’t make sense.

“…Mama?”

Her voice cracked this time.

But hands grabbed her again.

Rough.

Impatient.

“No time—move!”

She was pulled away.

Her voice echoing—

fading—

breaking—

“…Mama—!”

Back in the meeting—

Unikawa’s fingers curled slightly.

Just once.

A faint, unfamiliar tightness settled in his chest.

He didn’t understand it.

But he didn’t ignore it either.

Still—

his face remained calm.

“Now,” the man said, leaning back.

“Let’s conclude this.”

The screen behind him flickered on.

Light filled the room.

And then—

an image.

A girl.

Bound.

Unconscious.

Tear-streaked.

Silvano’s posture shifted instantly.

Kiritatsu’s gaze sharpened.

But Unikawa—

remained still.

As if he were looking at something distant.

Unrelated.

“Give us the girl,” the man said.

“And everything returns to normal.”

Silence spread slowly.

Carefully.

Like something dangerous.

Unikawa tilted his head slightly.

“…You’re offering resolution,” he said calmly,

“…in exchange for a random girl?”

The man hesitated.

Just a fraction.

Something about that answer—

felt wrong.

“Or,” the man continued, forcing control back,

“You give us your permanent route.”

“Choose.”

"It's not a demand.. it's a command, remember this." 

Silvano spoke—

low, firm—

“You’re pushing too far.”

But Kiritatsu didn’t wait.

He never did.

A single motion.

Enough.

Everything broke at once.

Men restrained.

Chairs forced back.

Gun fired two men beside the representative. 

Weapons drawn—but controlled.

Within seconds—

the room shifted.

Power reversed.

Unikawa stood slowly.

Walked forward.

Grabbed the man by the collar.

Pulled him close.

Then—

forced his head down onto the table.

Once.

violently.

Too harshly that his forehead bleed.

But with enough force to remove resistance.

“…Where?”

The word was quiet.

But absolute. 

He spoke.. ... Because he knew he was hostage now. 

They got what they needed.

Fast.

No wasted time.

The drive—

was not calm.

The engine roared.

The road blurred.

Silvano glanced once.

“You need to slow down.”

No response.

“Unikawa—”

Nothing.

Just hands steady on the wheel.

Eyes fixed forward.

They arrived.

The place was already tense.

Men moved.

Doors broke.

Resistance collapsed quickly.

Inside—

a small room.

Closed.

Still.

Unikawa entered first.

And saw her.

Liz.

Tied.

Barely conscious.

Too still.

For the first time—

his steps slowed.

Not out of fear.

But something heavier.

He knelt.

Hands careful as he untied her.

Each movement controlled.

Gentle.

As if rushing would break her.

Her eyes opened slowly.

Unfocused.

Searching.

“…Papa…?”

His breath caught—

barely.

“I’m here.”

Her lips trembled.

“…Mama…”

A pause.

Then—

“…they… shot her…”

The words didn’t echo.

They didn’t need to.

They settled.

Deep.

Final.

Unikawa didn’t react immediately.

Not outwardly.

He just held her.

Closer.

Steadier.

But something inside him—

shifted.

Permanently.

Behind him—

Silvano stood still.

Watching.

Understanding.

This wasn’t anger.

This wasn’t rage.

This was something colder.

Something that didn’t fade.

A line had been crossed.

And it wouldn’t be undone.

End of Chapter 17 🖤