Sleeping within the walls of Kurokafu was something I had missed. It’s a criminal organization, no doubt, but its darkness brings me a certain comfort that I find nowhere else. Everyone here is governed by the same laws, and no one can break them. Unlike Azplent, where traitors can easily infiltrate and kill from within, such a thing is simply impossible here. Because we are not just bound by the rules, we are compelled by them. And compulsion is far stronger than obligation.

I get up to head to one of Kurokafu’s restaurants. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned it before, but to get there, one has to go to the neutral zone. The neutral zone is on a special floor, just above the large parking lot of the Chameleons, where I had arrived upon my return.

This place, as its name suggests, is frequented by all kinds of people. You can find anything and everything here. The zone is immense, almost as big as a city, a true haven for criminals. Paradoxically, this zone is also extremely safe. Safer than other places in the world.

Outside, if someone wants to take your life, they can, and no one will be able to stop them. Because rules are simply not respected, thanks to free will. Here, it’s different. Who knows why, but no one has ever broken the code of conduct imposed by our leader.

The corridors of the neutral zone echo with the sounds of hushed conversations and hurried footsteps. A dim light bathes the space, adding a touch of anonymity to every corner. Once inside the restaurant, I take a seat alone in the back. There, I’m sure not to be disturbed, though many might think the same as I do.

I sit down, and after a few minutes, a waiter comes to take my order. I ask for a black coffee, short and intense, like Kurokafu’s night. The waiter nods and quickly disappears into the shadows of the restaurant.

As I waited for my coffee, a man entered, dressed in the dark, discreet uniform of the TRD. His gaze scanned the room with clinical precision. When he saw me, he headed straight for my table.

“Luminara d’Azplent?” he said, sitting down without an invitation, “You’re on leave. Two weeks off, in accordance with the rules imposed on the Luminara.”

It was to be expected. Among the Luminara, after a mission involving more than a year of intervention, the agent is entitled to at least two weeks of rest. Variable depending on the superiors' whims.

Handing me an envelope, he said, “Take this time to recharge.”

I took the envelope, noting the official Kurokafu seal. “And where am I supposed to go?”

“You’re free to choose. But keep the organization informed,” he added before standing up and leaving as suddenly as he had appeared.

The idea of leaving Kurokafu for two weeks seemed both foreign and intriguing. I had almost forgotten what it was like to live in the ‘normal’ world. After finishing my coffee, I return to my room to pack my things.

Two days later, I was in a bustling city, far from the shadow of Kurokafu’s official HQ, but still within its web. For lodging, I found a room in a hotel secretly run by Misumena vatia and Chameleons. It’s the case with countless establishments, but the world remains oblivious.

The streets are filled with life, light, and noise. Nearly forgotten sensations flood my senses. Walking among people, feeling the raw energy of the city... it was both refreshing and unsettling.

I decide to start my stay with a simple walk in a lively park. Children were playing, couples strolled hand in hand, and street performers entertained fascinated onlookers. An atmosphere so distant from the calculated coldness of Kurokafu.

Sitting on a bench, I let my thoughts drift. An elderly woman, holding a basket of bread for the birds, sits down next to me.

“It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” she says with a smile.

“Yes, very beautiful,” I reply, appreciating the simplicity of the interaction.

She began talking to me about her family, her grandchildren whom she often came to watch play here. It was a mundane conversation, but it brought me an unexpected warmth. I realize how much I had missed simple, honest human interactions.

In the following days, I immersed myself more in the city’s life. I frequented cafés, where conversations were light and smiles genuine. I visited museums, admiring the art and history within each piece. The contrast with Kurokafu’s brutal efficiency was striking.

One evening, in a bustling bar, I met Julia. She’s in her thirties, and her presence is striking. Her chestnut hair, cut into a bob, frames a face with sharp, determined features. Her piercing blue eyes seem always on the lookout for something bigger, while her smile reveals a quiet yet intense confidence. She wears a jacket that’s stylish but casual, fitting for a journalist in search of stories.

We engage in a lively conversation. Julia, passionate about her work, doesn’t settle for superficial questions. She dives deep into the topics that interest her, revealing an insatiable curiosity. In talking with her, I discover that her ambitions are as vast as her curiosity. She aims to make big headlines and hopes to one day tackle stories that transcend local boundaries.

“And you, what do you do for a living?” she asks, her piercing gaze seeking to understand the nuances behind my answers.

I take a sip of my drink, trying to avoid revealing too much. “I work in logistics,” I reply, my voice measured. It’s a vague response but credible enough not to arouse suspicion.

“Interesting,” she responds, clearly intrigued. “I’m sure you have fascinating stories to tell, even if you seem a bit reserved on the subject. People like you often have experiences worth sharing.”

I smile, appreciating her ability to read between the lines without pushing further. “Maybe. But tonight, I’d rather listen to your stories.”

Julia then launches into captivating tales of her reports, her investigations, and the memorable moments of her career. Her voice is lively, charged with emotion, and she paints the details of her experiences with such intensity that I almost forget who I really am. It’s fascinating to listen to her adventures through the different layers of society, her encounters with complex individuals, and her attempts to unravel mysteries.

As the evening progresses, the conversation takes a more personal turn. Julia, in a burst of sincerity, shares her dreams of becoming an influential figure in journalism, beyond the limits of the city. She speaks of her ambitions with palpable passion, which touches me more deeply than I had anticipated.

As the night wears on, a soft warmth settles between us. Laughter becomes more frequent, and the exchanged glances carry a particular intensity. Julia starts to pay me subtle compliments, her eyes lingering on me with a hint of undisguised interest.

“You know, there’s something enigmatic about you,” she says, playing with a strand of her hair, her smile slightly provocative. “I’m sure you have many stories hidden behind that reserved face.”

I respond with a smile, locking eyes with her. “Maybe. But I have a feeling you already know a lot more about me than I’d like. And I don’t mind that at all.”

We continue talking, our exchanges becoming increasingly personal. Julia moves a bit closer, her shoulder brushing against mine. I notice the warmth of her presence, the subtle fragrance she exudes. The attraction between us is palpable, like an invisible magnetic force pulling us toward each other.

As the bar starts to empty, the atmosphere becomes more intimate. Julia plays with the edge of her jacket, revealing slightly exposed skin that catches the dim light of the bar. Her voice grows softer, more velvety. “I love moments like this. Where everything seems to stop, and we can really focus on the other person.”

I sense the moment has come to take a step. “If you’d like to continue this conversation somewhere quieter, I know another hotel in town, far from the hustle and bustle of this bar. It would be nice to extend this evening in a more peaceful place.”

Julia looks at me, her eyes shining with excitement and curiosity. “A hotel? Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

I smile at her, the warmth in her eyes confirming that she’s open to the suggestion. “It’s just a proposal. If you’d like to continue the evening, I’d be happy to get to know you better in a more relaxed setting.”

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After a moment of hesitation, she agrees with a conspiratorial smile. “Alright, why not? Let’s show this city what it really means to have a good time.”

We leave the bar together, the connection between us growing more palpable. At the hotel, away from the bar’s bustle, we find a space where conversation and closeness can develop further. The evening continues in a more intimate atmosphere, where barriers gently fall away.

Early in the morning, I wake before dawn. The room is still shrouded in darkness, and Julia sleeps peacefully beside me. I take a moment to observe her serene face, appreciating the traces of the night that seem to enhance her features. The memory of the evening is still fresh, but the reality of my situation quickly brings me back to reason.

I get up carefully, trying not to wake her, gathering my things in the dim light. Every movement is measured, every gesture filled with a sense of urgency. The need to leave quickly weighs on me, and I can’t help but feel a slight sadness as I take in the calm of the room.

Before leaving, I grab a piece of paper and write a brief note, leaving a few words for Julia: “Thank you for a memorable evening. I regret having to leave without saying goodbye, but circumstances force me to depart early. I hope you’ll keep a good memory of our time together.”

I place the note on the bedside table, hoping she won’t hold it against me. Then, I slip out of the hotel, carrying with me the memories of a night that, though brief, left a lasting impression.

This encounter with Julia gave me so much that I nearly forgot my true identity. The question “Why did I do this?” keeps running through my mind. Maybe it was simply the desire to experience something unexpected, outside of my usual routine, and undoubtedly a sincere attraction.

I spent time with an ambitious, fascinating person, full of surprises and life. Perhaps in the near future, she will achieve her aspirations. Only time will tell. I wish her all the happiness.

Outside, the cool morning air fully wakes me up. I walk with a determined pace, aware that every moment spent here is now behind me, and that the life of Luminara will eventually catch up with me.

When I arrive at the hotel where I was supposed to stay, the receptionist, also a member of Kurokafu, immediately calls out to me: “You have a message. A woman and a young man left phone numbers and insisted that you call them as soon as possible.”

I take the two phone numbers and go up to my room. Once I’ve dropped off my things, after completing my morning routine and sending my daily signal to Kurokafu, I decide to call the contacts. The first person is a Widow. Her voice on the phone is cold but precise: “Don’t leave the hotel. We need to discuss something in person.”

The second contact is a Reaper. His tone is equally direct: “Stay at the hotel.”

I head down to have breakfast in the hotel’s dining area, flipping through the newspaper to pass the time while waiting for them to arrive.

A few minutes later, as I’m enjoying my breakfast, the Widow approaches me. She’s a woman who appears to be around twenty-five, with an appearance that is both elegant and intimidating. Her jet-black hair is pulled back into a neat bun, accentuating her sharp features. Her dark green eyes are piercing and cold, exuding a natural authority. She’s dressed in an impeccable black suit, revealing a slender and well-maintained figure. As she sits across from me, her piercing eyes locked onto mine, she begins:

“Luminara, I know you’re supposed to be on leave, but have you received any updates from the Saboteur responsible for your mission in Azplent?”

“No, none,” I reply, staying on my guard. “Why do you ask?”

“I specifically instructed the Saboteurs to relay the message to you… Are they trying to sabotage me?” she says, absentmindedly playing with a strand of her hair, a note of impatience in her voice.

Before she can say more, a young man in his twenties joins us. Of average height, he has a rigid posture that betrays a certain nervousness. His short brown hair and pale blue eyes reflect a constant vigilance. He scrutinizes us carefully before stepping closer, shaking our hands in a neutral but resolute manner, with the thumb raised in the Kurokafu style. The Widow seems annoyed by this intrusion.

“No need to put on a show; we’re in a Kurokafu hotel,” she remarks with a sigh.

“So what? Regular customers can stay here too,” he retorts coldly.

“Why does a Reaper have to show up?” the Widow complains.

I intervene, clearing my throat: “So, can you finally explain what’s going on?”

The Widow resumes speaking: “The Argiopes want to destroy Azplent and have given me carte blanche to prepare. I’m here to gather whatever information you have, face-to-face.” She adds more firmly, “It’s crucial that I have all possible information. My life is at stake. And why did I come to you and not someone else? Simply because you were the highest-ranked infiltrator in the hideout.”

“Infiltrators? I thought I was the only one…” I think to myself.

I turn to the Reaper to understand his involvement. He confirms the same as the Widow.

“Yet, I believe I left a complete mission report at HQ.”

The Widow responds quickly: “I read it thoroughly, but it’s not enough. I wanted to discuss it all in person. I know you’re on leave, but understand that I need every advantage on my side. Nothing beats a face-to-face conversation.”

The Reaper, who has been silent until now, speaks up: “Among the Reapers, during the destruction operation, I was specifically tasked with eliminating the murderers of agents CSD00412132, CSD10419543, and CSD10341749.”

“Stop brown-nosing, Reaper!” the Widow retorts.

“I didn’t interrupt your conversation. So, if you’ll allow me…”

“Excuse me? Are you mocking me?”

“Those three agents were Chameleons, killed by Azplent. I mentioned the assassins in my report.”

“I know. But I need more details. For example, do you think any of them might be likely to leave the organization? Besides their physical description, do you know anything about their hobbies, family situation, habits, dreams?”

I start to explain: “Not in as much detail, but here’s what I know…” I detail the information about the killers, including anecdotes and personal details to answer the Reaper’s questions.

His mission is to track down the killers and eliminate them, making his act a warning of Kurokafu’s impending attack. I can’t imagine the pressure he must be under, especially at his young age. But ultimately, all Reapers are trained for this. So for him, it’s just another mission.

The Widow interrupts with a sly smile: “You’re not even going to offer a pretty woman a coffee?”

I order a coffee for her, taking advantage of the moment to continue our exchange. The atmosphere relaxes slightly as we resume our discussion.

Hours pass, and as the dining area begins to fill with non-Kurokafu guests, an employee politely approaches us, asking us to vacate the space to avoid being discovered. The Widow rises with a satisfied smile, while the Reaper nods silently. Fortunately, we’ve finished our discussion.

Outside, the Widow asks me other questions unrelated to Kurokafu: “Why did you choose a city so far from the hideout? And especially why such a lively city?”

Before I have time to answer, the Reaper intervenes firmly: “He’s not obligated to answer you. He’s on leave, he can go wherever he wants. It’s none of your business.”

"Could you just shut up, Reaper? You've lost all your humanity, so what could you possibly understand about curiosity?"

"I know it's a tendency that can lead to death in our line of work."

These two perfectly embody the conflict between Reapers and Black Widows. It's a natural tension, with no real cause—these two types just can't get along. I raise my voice to put an end to their bickering:

"I wanted to spend my time off in a lively city, to feel alive again, surrounded by 'normal' people."

"Hmm, I get it. That makes sense. But you know that by doing this, you're setting yourself up for a lot of regrets, right? Usually, we choose secluded, peaceful places for our breaks."

"Yeah, I know. But I just thought, 'Why not?'"

As we walk, a voice calls out to us. It's a voice I sadly recognize. I turn towards it: "Julia? What are you doing here?"

The Reaper immediately goes on alert, ready to act. The Black Widow, however, stays back, waiting to understand who this person is. I discreetly signal to them that everything is fine.

"You just left like that?... I confided in someone, shared something deeply personal with a person whose name I don't even know, and then you disappear like that?"

"Can we talk somewhere more private?"

I take her aside while the Reaper and the Black Widow sit on a bench, waiting for my return. They watch us closely, trying to lip-read our conversation.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd see you again so soon, or ever."

"Is she your wife?"

"Not at all. Just an acquaintance."

"So, you really planned to leave like that?"

"Yes. I'm only passing through this city, I'm on leave. I'm heading back tonight, and I hate long-distance relationships."

"And you couldn't have told me that before?"

"I didn't see the point."

"I still had so much to tell you... And I wanted to know more about you... starting with your name."

"My name is Kaito Nakamura," I say, enunciating clearly to make sure everyone understands.

"You're lying."

Her blunt, cold response threw me off a bit. How could she know I was lying? Impossible. So I repeat it, pulling out my fake ID: "See for yourself."

She glances at it briefly and hands it back: "I don't believe you."

"Then how can I convince you?" I ask with a forced smile.

"Whatever... When you're on leave again, will you come back? I really developed something for you. I can't explain it. I've never opened up to anyone like I did to you."

I'm not sure what to say, so I just listen. Then she adds, in a more poignant tone, "We'll see each other again, right?"

As I look at her, I can't figure out what she expects from me. Does she want me to tell her a sweet lie? Or the truth to set her free from me? But she's perceptive enough to know that everything about me is a lie. What does she expect from me? What made her so attached? I'll never know. So I decide to give her a sweet lie.

"We'll see each other again. Give me your number."

With a smile that hides a hint of sadness, she hands me her business card. I add humorously, "If you keep writing successful articles, I might not even need it. I’ll find you online with just a few clicks."

She lets out a soft chuckle, says goodbye, and heads toward my colleagues. I follow. And right after greeting them, she abruptly asks them, "What's his name?"

Intrigued by the question, the Reaper looks at the Black Widow, who replies with obvious confusion, "Kaito Nakamura." She looks at me and adds, "You wouldn't have lied to her, would you?"

Pretending to be embarrassed, I answer, "No, no! What do you take me for? I really care about her, and that's just not my style."

Julia turns to me and gives me a sweet, sincere, and beautiful smile: "Maybe you're not a liar after all."

I smile back at her, and our eyes meet for a moment. There's a warmth in the air, a subtle tension building between us. Before I can react, she gently leans in and places a soft kiss on my lips.

The contact is brief but full of unspoken promises. She pulls back slightly, her gaze still locked on mine, before turning and walking away from us. I will never see her smile again. Now, it’s truly behind me. Should I thank fate for this last chance to talk to her? Or curse it for making me meet someone like her?

END OF CHAPTER