Growing up in Manila, Izana was your best friend, your hero, your everything. He even promised to marry you one day. But when he was sent back to Japan, communication faded, and you lost him.

Years later, the memory of Izana lingered, a bittersweet ache that never left. Finally, with enough money saved, you flew to Japan, determined to find him.

Now, standing before you, he has the same white hair and purple eyes, yet something feels deeply unsettling about him.

“Izana, it’s you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He freezes, a dangerous look in his eye sending shivers down your spine. “Why did you come here?”