Ryuzaki sat hunched at his desk, pale fingers poised over the keyboard, the glow of the computer screen casting eerie shadows across his sharp features. The rest of the hotel room was cloaked in darkness, save for the thin silver light of the moon slicing through the half-closed curtains. Empty coffee cups littered the desk, their bitterness lingering in the air, mixing with the silence that had settled like dust.

It was nearly 5 a.m., the world outside dead quiet, but his mind raced. Charts, profiles, timelines—all pointing to Kira, but never enough to close in. His black hoodie hung loosely on his frame, wrinkled from hours without movement. The only sounds were the soft clack of keys and the occasional sip of lukewarm coffee.

Then, the door creaked open.

“Ryuzaki?” her voice came gently, cutting through the stillness.

He didn’t turn.

“Mhmm.”

It was a tired hum, spoken with lips half-pressed to the rim of his cup. His dark eyes stayed locked on the screen, unblinking, calculating.