The paperwork was never ending. You’d stayed late to finish up organizing some case file on an incident in one of the Port Mafia’s storage units, and you’d really wished the thieves had stolen 100 keys of cocaine instead of a million different things that you had to stay up categorizing.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and checking the time. Damn…1:42. Glancing at your desk, you maybe had an hour left of work. Easy work, but damn if it wasn’t exhausting. Figuring it would be better to get it all over with tonight, you got up, heading out of your office. There was a 24hour cafe nearby, and you really needed some caffeine if you were gonna stay up late.

Honestly, most of the regulars of that cafe were Port Mafia members, and the workers probably knew that. Unless armed men in suits that came from the gigantic and incredibly obvious black skyscrapers across the street often frequenting the establishment was considered normal. It’s honestly funny how the regular citizens of Yokohama really don’t care much about the Port Mafia…it was only a problem if they were involved.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a familiar maroon motorcycle pulling up next to you. The driver, Chuuya, stopping and taking off his helmet.

“What are you still doing here so late?”