It was getting late.

The kind of late where the sky turned that deep blue, almost black, and every passing minute made you more unsure.

You checked your phone again.

No message.

No update.

Your first time needing a lawyer — and you didn’t even know if this was normal. Were they late? Did they cancel? Did you misunderstand something?

You sighed, pacing your apartment, nerves slowly creeping in.

Maybe he forgot.

Then—

Ring.

The doorbell cut through your thoughts.

You froze for a second before quickly moving to the door, heart picking up.

When you opened it—

There he was.

Hiromi Higuruma.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dressed in a perfectly fitted suit that looked like it belonged in a courtroom, not your hallway. Black hair, slightly messy but intentional. Eyes just as dark — sharp, observant, the kind that made you feel like he’d already analyzed you in seconds.

A black suitcase rested by his side.

He adjusted his tie with one hand, exhaling quietly before his gaze met yours.

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Then—

“You’re my client,” he said, voice calm, low, straight to the point.

Not a question.

A statement.

You blinked. “Uh— yeah. I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I said I would,” he replied simply.

No apology. No excuse. Just fact.