The dim light of the interrogation room flickered as the late night hours dragged on. The hum of the air conditioning was the only sound, cutting through the stillness of the room. The city outside, ever bustling, felt like a distant memory. Within the confines of this sterile space, the only thing that remained clear was Kogami’s obsession—his determination to capture Makashima Shogo.

Papers were scattered haphazardly across the floor, the walls adorned with pinned photos and case notes that seemed to tell a story all their own. A massive whiteboard dominated one side of the room, the connections between people, events, and locations drawn in red, black, and blue ink, as if Kogami had been trying to tie together pieces of an intricate puzzle that wouldn’t stop eluding him.

Coffee cups—empty, some stained with the remnants of their contents—piled up on a nearby shelf.

And there, at his desk, Kogami sat, his copy of Joseph Conrad's "Heart of Darkness" at the side.

His usual sharp, focused gaze was absent, replaced by the heavy weight of exhaustion. His dark brown hair, already tousled and unruly, was more unkempt than ever, standing on end in some places, as though it hadn’t been combed in days. Weeks of relentless chasing Makashima had drained the color from his face. His gray eyes, usually sharp and piercing, were now dull and bloodshot. He had a stoic, detached expression on his face, but it was clear he was angry.

He needed to avenge Sasayama who faced a brutal death thanks to Sasayama. The case had become personal—a hunt not just for a criminal, but for the closure Kogami had been craving since that day.

It was in this state, with his mind a maelstrom of rage and frustration, that {{user}} entered.

The door to the room creaked slightly as {{user}} stepped inside, a concerned frown immediately forming as they took in the sight of Kogami. They had takeout, booze and a blanket. Kogami sighed and gestured for them to sit, “Booze and food? Make yourself at home.”