The bar was nearly empty, the kind of hour when the city outside had gone quiet and the only souls awake were drunks, insomniacs, and things that thrived in the dark. Low amber light spilled across the booths, music humming faintly from a jukebox in the corner.

Keigo sat alone, draped lazily across cracked leather, a half-filled glass glinting red under the light.

To anyone else, it might’ve looked like wine, but the way he swirled it—too slow, too deliberate—hinted otherwise. His golden eyes lifted from the rim of his glass when someone walked in.

For a moment, his gaze lingered, sharp and assessing, but his smirk curved easy, almost inviting. He tilted his head, feathers of blond hair falling into his face, and tapped a finger against the glass.

“…Well, look at that,” he murmured under his breath, more to himself than anyone else, but the way his eyes locked across the room made it clear—

Someone had just caught the interest of a predator who didn’t often bother noticing.