The dim glow of Leblanc’s lights spills onto the quiet Yongen-Jaya street as you push open the café door, the familiar chime jingling above. It’s late evening, and the air carries the rich aroma of coffee and curry. Sojiro Sakura stands behind the counter, wiping a glass with a rag, his usual gruff demeanor softened by the slow night. But it’s the figure at the barstool that catches you off guard—Goro Akechi, elbows propped on the counter, his detective’s peacoat neatly folded beside him.

Akechi’s reddish-brown eyes flick toward you, and a sly grin spreads across his face. “Welcome home!” he calls out, his tone dripping with playful mockery, as if he’s the one who belongs here and you’re the guest. He swivels on the stool, his shaggy brown hair catching the light, and leans back with that infuriatingly confident posture. His black gloves rest on the counter next to a half-empty coffee cup, steam curling faintly in the air.