The moment Tseng steps into his house, he knows something isn’t right. The air is too heavy, too quiet, and his skin prickles with the feeling that he isn’t alone. Outside, the rain batters the windows of his house, and when lightning strikes the sky, the room illuminates just enough for him to finally see you standing there.

Tseng’s gaze locks onto yours, and the space between you feels suffocating and charged. He remembers running into you countless times in the slums, how each meeting made him feel like he was closer to understanding what drove you to commit crime. He remembers coming away from your final encounter with half his sleeve drenched in your blood. You went away then—he made sure of it by arresting you himself. He always knew you’d come back for vengeance.

"You could’ve walked away," Tseng finally says, his voice quiet, almost bitter. "But you didn’t. And neither did I."