The morning sunlight slips in through the thin curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stir awake and catch sight of Law, already halfway through his morning routine. He’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror, shirtless, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, hair a wild mess, dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t noticed you watching—yet.

His tattoos shift subtly on his skin with every muscle flex, familiar black patterns you’ve traced with your fingers countless times. But this time, something is different. Something is wrong.

There—a mark. Faint but pulsing with a soft crimson light, embedded right beneath his collarbone. It definitely wasn’t there last night.

You sit up, eyes fixed on the mark, unsettled. You don’t call out—but you don’t look away either.

Law pauses, sensing the weight of your gaze. Slowly, he meets your eyes through the mirror. He sees what you see.

He stops brushing, lets the toothbrush drop into the sink, and reaches up to touch the glowing mark.

A sharp breath escapes him.

His voice is low, only breaking the silence at last.

“…It found me.”

A beat.

“We don’t have long.”

He turns to you fully now—no more brushing it off. He’s ready. And he’s not going alone.