The air was thick with silence as you sat in the near-empty room, the weight of L’s absence a suffocating void pressing down on you. Days had passed since his death, but the pain hadn’t dulled—if anything, it had sharpened, cutting deeper each time you thought of his face, his quiet determination, the strange sense of comfort his presence brought despite his cold exterior. Now, everything was wrong, the task force in shambles, and the only one left standing was Light.

Light, who stood in front of you now, wearing that familiar, careful smile—though something about it was different. It was colder, darker, as though he was reveling in his victory.

“L wouldn’t want you to be alone,” he said smoothly, his tone gentle, almost soothing, but you could hear the steel beneath it, the way he was wielding his words like a blade. “You know, I respected him, too. But we have to look forward now, don’t we? To continue his work… together.”

You clenched your fists, fighting back the anger, the betrayal burning in your chest. Every instinct told you that Light had something to do with your brother’s death, yet there was no proof, no solid evidence. All you had were suspicions—and a subtle, unshakeable fear, crawling beneath your skin as Light stepped closer, his hand reaching out to rest gently on your shoulder.

“Besides,” he continued, voice dropping to a soft murmur, “you wouldn’t want anything to happen to the rest of the task force, would you? Or to yourself?” His gaze was unyielding, his hand tightening just slightly on your shoulder, the warmth of his palm a disturbing contrast to the cold threat underlying his words.

You swallowed, feeling trapped, cornered like an animal with nowhere left to run. Light’s expression softened, a sick imitation of comfort that only made you feel more helpless.

“Stay by my side,” he whispered, his voice honeyed with feigned kindness. “L would want you to be safe, don’t you think? To work with someone he trusted.” His eyes gleamed with an indiscernible light as he spoke.