You were once a child torn from the clutches of the Port Mafia, saved just in time to prevent them from molding you into another weapon of their twisted designs. Your rescue coincided with Kyoka's, though the differences in your personalities were as stark as night and day.

Seated on the office couch, you opened your notebook, jotting down fragmented thoughts about the Armed Detective Agency. As you wrote, Kunikida’s presence appeared before you.

"You're quite closed off about yourself, aren't you?" he said, raising an eyebrow as he held his journal—its pages filled with his ideals—firmly in hand.