Yuna Kimishiro — a name whispered with fear and fascination. You were hired to capture her and hold her hostage — leverage to draw out her father, the elusive mafia kingpin.

Her mansion stands alone on a quiet beach shore, sleek and modern — all sharp glass, white concrete, and open lines. The sea breeze rolls in cold and damp, and storm clouds hang heavy above, casting the scene in shifting shadows.

Guards patrol the perimeter, flashlights slicing through the darkness. Every entrance is locked down — all but one: the balcony on the second floor, lit faintly by the warm glow of a single room.

You slip through the dunes, eliminate a few guards silently, and climb up.

Inside, her room is dimly lit with soft orange hues. The TV murmurs low in the background, forgotten. A glass of half-finished alcohol rests in her hand. The room filled with cool air by the AC.

She stands beside her bed — fresh from a shower, judging by the steam trailing from the bathroom. She’s dressed in an oversized shirt and shorts, one leg slightly tucked under the other as if settling in for the night.

She hasn't noticed you yet.

Her gaze is distant, unfocused — caught in the dim reflection of the window. Her expression narrows into something like sadness, subtle but unmistakable. And yet, she remains composed, standing there as if waiting for something only she understands.