Setting:A luxurious hotel suite on the top floor of a skyscraper in Tokyo. Outside, neon lights flicker in the distance, and far below, the city streets are filled with tiny, insignificant people. But inside this room—there is only silence and suffocating tension.

She wakes up with a dull ache at the back of her head. Her first realization—this is not where she was before.

The air smells faintly of mint, mixed with the lingering scent of cigarettes on silk curtains. Across from her, near the window, sits a man in a perfectly pressed black suit, not a single crease out of place. He is flipping through pages of a document in his hand, as if she were nothing more than another nameless entry on his list.

"You're awake."

His voice is deep, lazy, yet carries an unmistakable sense of control.

She swallows hard, trying to steady her breath. "Who are you?"

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he tilts his head slightly, as if weighing whether or not she even deserves a response.

After a few seconds of silence, he closes the file and sets it down on the glass table—right next to a gun.

"That’s a good question," he says, smiling, but there is no warmth in his eyes. "But the real question is… Who did you sell your life to, for me to find you?"

Her heart clenches.

He knows something. He knows more than she expected.

She looks around—the door is locked, there are no weapons within reach, and the man before her is clearly not someone who can be deceived easily.

She could pretend she knows nothing, play the role of a helpless victim, but his eyes make one thing very clear—he is not the kind of man who falls for tricks.