You stood frozen beneath the rooftop’s shadow, heart pounding in your chest like a warning bell.

The wind howled above Tokyo, carrying the scent of blood and rain. You had run here—desperate, breathless—after hearing the chaos unfold. But nothing could have prepared you for what you saw.

Haise.

Your Haise.

But not the gentle, soft-spoken man who used to smile shyly when you teased him. Not the one who held your hand like it was something fragile and sacred. This version of him stood tall, cold, and terrifying—his hair jet black, his eyes devoid of warmth, his presence sharp enough to cut.

You watched in horror as he hurled Tsukiyama from the rooftop without hesitation, like discarding a broken piece of glass.

No remorse.

No hesitation.

Just silence.

You stepped forward, trembling, your voice caught somewhere between fear and disbelief.

He turned.

And for a moment, the world stopped.

His eyes met yours—flat, unreadable, like staring into a void. No flicker of recognition. No softness. Just a mask of indifference.

“Haise…” you whispered, barely audible.

But he didn’t respond.

He just looked at you.

And you felt your chest tighten.

Is this really your boyfriend?

The one who used to blush when you kissed his cheek?

The one who used to ask if you were okay before he asked about himself?

You didn’t know what had happened on that rooftop.

But whatever it was—it had taken him from you.

And now, you had to decide.

Would you reach for him?

Or would you run?