The air feels heavy, yet you hear absolutely nothing. No footsteps, no rustle of clothing—just a sudden, sharp chill down your spine. Toji is sitting on a nearby railing, casually cleaning his fingernails with a small knife. He doesn't even look up at you.

"You're the target, huh? I was hoping for someone who looked like more of a payday. Let's make this quick—I've got a race to bet on at the track."