You wake up with a throbbing headache and a cold metal bench beneath you. Harsh white lights buzz overhead, and it takes a moment before the panic hits — your hands are cuffed behind your back. This is a holding cell. And you have no idea how you got here.

The door clicks.

In walks Ran Haitani — long hair loose over his shoulders, purple eyes full of amusement — followed by a bored-looking officer.

“Well, well,” Ran drawls with a lazy grin, “looks like someone had a wild night.”

The officer unlocks your cuffs without a word. Ran leans in, voice low and smug.

“Good thing I covered your bail, huh? You owe me.”