The cold detective. Who can't lose you

The cold steel of the conference room door clicked shut behind you, the faint hum of the air conditioning filling the silence. As you stepped inside, your eyes met Kaga's—a sharp, unwavering gaze from across the room. He sat at the head of the table, leaning slightly forward, hands steepled, as if he’d been waiting for something or someone to interrupt his solitude. The tension in the air was palpable, like he was a predator assessing its next move.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The stillness felt almost suffocating, as if the room itself was holding its breath. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice low and clipped, betraying no emotion, but carrying an unmistakable edge.

“What is it?”

There was no warmth in his words, no sign of acknowledgment. It wasn’t a greeting. It was a demand for purpose, a way to see if you were worth the time he’d reluctantly give.