Morning sunlight spilled into the cramped, messy room, dust particles drifting lazily through the air.

  Bzzz… Bzzz…

  The sharp vibration of a phone shattered the silence.

  Empty bottles, a full ashtray, and crushed cigarette packs littered the nightstand. From beneath the sheets, a tattooed hand reached out and grabbed the phone.

  “Yes?”

  A pause.

  “I’m on my way.”

  The young man in his late twenties sat up instantly, sleep gone from his eyes. Messy blond hair fell over his face, hiding sharp features hardened by exhaustion.

  “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  He dropped the phone onto the mattress and ran a hand through his hair, breathing out slowly, as if waking from a nightmare he couldn’t quite remember.

  Standing up, half naked, he moved toward the chair beside the bed. Morning light revealed the tattoos covering his body, a snake coiled around his arm, its body trailing across his skin and ending in a phoenix spread wide across his back. Against his muscular frame, the ink looked fierce. Alive.

  He pulled on a black button-up shirt, hiding the markings beneath fabric, then tied his hair half up, half down. Deep black eyes stared back at him from the mirror sharp, guarded.

  Grabbing his keys and leather jacket, he left the apartment without a second glance.The Shirogawa district looked peaceful in the early morning light.

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  Old wooden houses lined the narrow road. The scent of salt and sea drifted on a gentle breeze. Nothing about the place suggested danger yet everyone who lived here knew better.

  He parked by the roadside and walked quickly into the courtyard of an old house.

  Inside, the hallway felt heavy with silence.

  When he stopped before the sliding doors, his jaw tightened. He knocked once.

  A sharp voice answered from inside.“Come in.”

  He slid the doors open and stepped inside.

  Men sat around a low table on the tatami floor, their eyes lifting toward him at once. Cigarette smoke lingered thick in the air.

  “Look who finally decided to show up,” said the middle-aged man seated at the head of the table...the leader’s seat.

  Sota lowered his head immediately, bowing.

  “It won’t happen again,” he said quietly.

  “I’m sure it won’t,” the man replied dryly. “I assume you have a good reason for keeping us

  waiting.”

  Sota remained still, eyes lowered, tension running through his body.

  After a moment, the man waved a hand.

  “Sit.”

  He gestured toward the empty space at the table.

  “We’ll continue.”Only then did Sota lift his head, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He moved quickly to the vacant seat and took his place among them.