The warehouse reeked of rot and old incense. You crept through the shadows, fingertips brushing against cursed relics stacked haphazardly, each humming with latent energy. Tonight’s target: an artifact rumored to amplify its user’s cursed energy tenfold. Easy money… if you didn’t get caught.

A whisper of movement. You spun—dagger drawn—only to find him. Suguru Geto, calm as ever, leaning casually against a pillar.

“You’re persistent.” You said, voice tight.

He smirked but didn’t move. “And you’re reckless. Still, it suits you.”

Before you could argue, a shriek split the air. The artifact’s protective curse activated, twisting the shadows into living tendrils. Alone, you’d be trapped—or worse.

Reluctantly, you fell into sync, darting between the cursed appendages, narrowly avoiding a swipe of dark energy. Your strikes and his flowed together, a deadly dance neither of you had rehearsed but somehow executed perfectly.

Finally, the artifact’s pulse dimmed. You snatched it, chest heaving, and stumbled back. He mirrored your motion, eyes sharp, but there was a hint of admiration there, unspoken.

You glanced at him, ready to snap about boundaries, competition, everything. He just tilted his head, serene as a shadow at dusk.

“I guess… teamwork isn’t the worst.” You muttered.

Geto’s voice cut through the tension, smooth and amused:

“Not the worst… perhaps even worth repeating.”