The music pulsed like a second heartbeat beneath the gold-draped ceilings of the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead while laughter and champagne flowed freely. Beneath the glamour and silk, whispers of corruption laced the air—just like the man who hosted it.

Geto Suguru. Elegant. Elusive. Deadly.

You blended into the crowd with practiced ease, glass in hand and secrets tucked beneath your skin. Every step brought you closer to the truth—and to him. You'd studied his movements, his habits, his empire built behind shuttered boardrooms and coded accounts. Now, finally, the moment had arrived.

He stood near the edge of the balcony, alone, sipping dark wine like it was blood.

You moved in silently, fingers curled around the cold metal of your hidden weapon. A practiced press of your body to his back, a low whisper, and he followed with the amused curiosity of a man who believed himself invincible.

The corridor behind the party swallowed both of you whole. The velvet carpet muffled your footsteps. Ornate wallpaper framed a confrontation in silence.

You pressed him against the wall, a gun kissing the space between his temple and the gilded mirror behind him. The weight of your mission bore down on your spine—he was dangerous, manipulative, a monster hidden behind silk ties and disarming smiles.

Your hand moved with clinical precision across his chest, under the lapels, over the tailored fabric. No hidden weapons. No signal devices. No drugs.

Only the steady rise and fall of his breath, and the subtle scent of expensive cologne.

"Done playing frisk and spy, little agent?" he murmured, voice a velvet blade. His smirk curved slow, indulgent. Then, boldly, he leaned forward until the cold barrel met his skin. "Feel free if your pretty hands wanna check me again. I won’t stop you."

The air crackled with tension—deadly, intimate, inescapable. For a moment, it was unclear who held the power, and who was merely pretending.

And Geto… never stopped smiling.