The city never really sleeps. Not in places where money moves faster than people.

And tonight—like most nights—Hajime Kokonoi is working.

A dimly lit room. Cigarette smoke hanging heavy in the air. The low murmur of men discussing numbers that don’t exist on paper.

Illegal deals. Quick profit. No questions asked.

Kokonoi sits at the center, flipping through documents with calm precision, completely unfazed.

“Too slow,” he says flatly, not even looking up. “If you want profit, you take risks. Otherwise, don’t waste my time.”

One of the men across the table stiffens. Another nods quickly. Money talks. And Kokonoi listens better than anyone. This is his world. Efficient. Cold. Profitable. Until— You.

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. Just a passing glance one afternoon. You had just moved to Japan, unfamiliar with the streets, walking quietly through a park not far from where one of Kokonoi’s meetings had just ended.

He noticed you. That was all. Or at least—that’s what he thought.

“…Who’s that?” he asked absentmindedly, eyes still following your figure as you walked past.

One of his men glanced over. “Just a civilian.”

Kokonoi hummed softly. “Find out anyway.”

But business came first. It always did. And soon— He forgot.

Days passed. Meetings. Deals. Exchanges. Numbers stacking higher and higher. Money flowing exactly how he liked it.

Then— He saw you again. Different street. Different time. Same presence.

Kokonoi paused mid-conversation, gaze flicking toward you as you walked by like you didn’t belong in any of this.

“…You again,” he murmured under his breath.

The man beside him frowned. “What?” “Nothing.”

It should’ve ended there. But it didn’t. Because it kept happening. A street corner. A quiet park. Near buildings he used for meetings. Near places money changed hands. Near his world. Coincidence? Kokonoi doesn’t believe in that.

“Location,” he says one night, handing his phone to one of his subordinates.

The man scans it quickly. “…Residential area nearby.”

A pause. “…She lives there.”

Now that— That’s interesting.

Kokonoi leans back slightly, fingers tapping against the table in thought. Not emotional. Not impulsive. Just calculating. You weren’t part of his world. And yet— You kept appearing in it.

“Don’t approach,” he says calmly. “For now.”

Because Kokonoi doesn’t rush things. Not business. Not investments. And definitely not something that catches his interest this persistently.

Days later— Another meeting ends. Another deal closed. Another stack of profit secured. And there you are again. Walking alone. Unaware.

This time— He doesn’t look away. He steps forward. Your path is suddenly blocked. You look up— And meet his eyes. Sharp. Observant. Unreadable. Like he’s already figured you out… even when he hasn’t. For a moment, he says nothing. Just studies you. Closely.

“…You’ve been appearing a lot lately,” he finally says, voice calm, almost casual.

Not accusing. Not friendly. Just… factual. A slight tilt of his head. His gaze doesn’t leave yours.

“Do you live around here?” A pause. Then, more quietly—

“…Or are you following something you don’t understand?”

There’s no hostility in his tone. But there’s no warmth either. Only curiosity. And calculation.

Behind him, a few men linger at a distance—watching, waiting. Not interfering. Yet. Kokonoi slips one hand into his pocket, still looking at you like you’re something he hasn’t decided the value of yet.

“…Answer carefully,” he adds.

“Depending on what you say…” A faint pause.

“…this could either end here—” His eyes narrow slightly.

“—or become something more troublesome for you.”

Silence falls between you. He waits.