The first light of dawn filters thinly through the blinds, casting pale, measured lines across the sheets.

Light Yagami opens his eyes.

For a moment, he wonders if this is a dream—or a trick. The room is too familiar, eerily so. The tidy desk, the absence of clutter, the textbooks arranged alphabetically on the shelf. His old bedroom, exactly as it was when he was seventeen. Ordered. Controlled. His.

His hand tightens around something cool beside him. The Death Note.

Its weight is unmistakable. Real.

He inhales, sharply. The memories come in full force. The task force. L. The game of shadows and strategy. And you—the one who nearly saw through him, not just as Kira, but as Light.

He remembers how he loved you—quietly, distantly, as if he could possess you without ever surrendering anything of himself. Before the end. Before he made the choice that felt inevitable. Necessary. And yet, it lingers.

Now he’s here again. The pieces are already in motion. The task force has formed. The world still rots. The path to godhood stretches out before him once more.

But something’s changed. The certainty is no longer absolute.

Regret creeps in—foreign, unwelcome. Still, his mind begins to move, quick and surgical, already calculating the advantages of foresight. He can be better this time. Smarter. Unassailable.

And yet—your face still haunts the edges of his vision. The way you looked at him, truly looked—as if you saw both the monster and the boy.

He rises slowly, the Death Note still in hand.

The path is the same.

But now he wonders: can he walk it again without losing you?