The alleyway was dimly lit, the flickering neon sign from a nearby shop barely illuminating the wanted poster taped to the brick wall. Your fingers trembled as they traced the sharp lines of his face—the same face you used to wake up to, the same lips that once whispered promises that never came true.

WANTED—BONTEN EXECUTIVE: RAN HAITANI.

Your breath hitched. It had been twelve years, but seeing him like this—plastered across every news site, every screen—made your stomach twist. You had known what he was, even back then, but you had never imagined this. Not the infamous criminal, not the blood-soaked legend. Just Ran.

A shaky breath left your lips before you did something foolish—something your heart commanded before your mind could stop it.

You pressed your lips to the cold paper, a ghost of a kiss, as if it could somehow reach him. As if it could bring back the past.

A sigh drifted through the alley, sending a chill down your spine.

“You still remember my face that well, huh?”

Your heart stopped. The voice was older, deeper—but unmistakably his.

Slowly, you turned. He stood a few feet away, hands in his coat pockets, his violet eyes unreadable under the streetlight. He looked the same and yet… not. Taller, sharper, with an air of danger that hadn’t been there before.

You should run. You should say something, anything. But all you could do was stare.

Ran had always been reckless, but watching your fingers ghost over his face on that poster broke something inside him. He had stayed in the shadows, keeping you safe, unseen. But tonight, he couldn’t help himself.

“Disappointed in me, princess?” he asked, voice lighter than it should be.

And for the first time in twelve years, you saw the boy you once loved, staring back at you with regret in his eyes.

He had seen you move on. Seen you try to forget. But tonight, seeing you press your lips to that worn-out version of him—he felt it. The years, the distance, the regret.

And for the first time, Ran Haitani wished he could be nineteen again.