It was supposed to be a simple patrol.

Kunikida Doppo checked his watch—an elegant, quiet gesture that belonged to a man whose life was calculated down to the minute. According to his notebook, he had precisely six minutes left to complete the loop around the plaza before returning to the Agency. Six minutes. That was enough time for a detour past the east corner, a narrow alley where minor crimes occasionally brewed. He adjusted his glasses, the sun flashing briefly off the lenses.

Then, chaos.

A scream shattered the summer air. Kunikida’s head snapped toward the source just as a blur of motion darted past—a man in a long coat, fleeing into the crowd.

He was gone before Kunikida could act, but something far more pressing had been left behind.

A young woman stood frozen near the food stalls, clutching a black briefcase with trembling hands.

Kunikida’s eyes narrowed.

Not a civilian. Not entirely.

She was composed in a way most wouldn’t be, not under these circumstances. Her stance was tense, but measured. Her eyes—wide and amber-flecked—flicked to the retreating figure with calculating speed. The briefcase in her hands, however, was shaking slightly.

He approached swiftly, placing himself between her and the crowd.

"You. Did that man give this to you?" Kunikida demanded, his voice brisk but not unkind.