The popsicle was already starting to melt in your hand as you walked home from the convenience store, the sticky sweetness of strawberry clinging to your lips. It was late—maybe too late to be out alone—but you just wanted a quiet night, a little treat, and the breeze to cool your thoughts.

You passed two policemen standing near the corner, chatting idly. You barely glanced their way. Nothing unusual.

That was your first mistake.

Just a few minutes later, footsteps echoed behind you—too quick, too close.

Before you could turn around, a hand grabbed your wrist, yanking you into a narrow, dim alley between two closed shops. You stumbled backward against the wall, your popsicle clattering to the ground. Panic surged.

“Hey! What are you—” you started to shout, but a gloved hand slammed over your mouth.

“Shh,” a voice hissed, low and urgent. His eyes darted toward the street where the two policemen were now casually walking past the alley without a second glance. They hadn’t seen. They hadn’t heard.

You froze.

When you looked back at him, your heart jumped to your throat.

You knew that face.

Not personally, but from the news. The internet. His wanted posters.

Yukai.

The vigilante killer who hunted criminals—judges, traffickers, corrupt officials—and left behind only a signature of justice written in blood.

His eyes, a chilling shade of grey, met yours with eerie calm.

“You saw nothing,” he whispered.