---
The dull clang of a metallic shutter echoed through the quiet street as the 2 o'clock Restaurant finally closed for the night. John adjusted his coat, took a few slow steps forward, and slipped his hand into the inner pocket. A small folded note rested in his palm. Unfolding it, he read the address aloud in a low murmur, "45th Street… House No. 18." A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Not very far."
He pulled out his phone and dialed Kento. The call rang only once before it was cut. He sighed. Somewhere far away, Kento sat silently beside the lifeless body of the hitman. He muttered to himself, "You failed… but that doesn't mean I failed."
---
Scene shift — evening at school.
The sun filtered through the school gates as Akira leaned against the corridor wall, his expression unreadable as always. Hinata approached with her bag slung awkwardly on her shoulder and a hesitant smile on her lips.
"Are you coming?" she asked. "If yes… then we can go together."
Akira's gaze softened for a moment. "I'm sorry, but I have to stop at the convenience store."
"Oh," Hinata replied, clearly disappointed. "Okay…"
She turned around slowly, her steps heavy. But then—
Akira caught her hand, gently but firmly, pulling her closer. "I'm working part-time there," he whispered. "So I can save money for the surprise."
Hinata's cheeks flushed crimson. "A-Akira! Everyone's watching…"
He glanced at the curious eyes around them. Instantly, every head turned down. Whispers died. Eyes pretended to find something fascinating on the floor.
Two boys near the lockers whispered.
"Why does everyone look away when he stares back?" one asked.
The other swallowed nervously. "Some secrets… should never be discovered. Even if it costs your life."
Their tone shifted to normal conversation.
"Did you study for today's math test?"
"Nah. I was too busy watching crime documentaries."
"Maybe that's why you think you'll survive if you uncover secrets."
"Shut up."
---
Scene shift — 45th Street, House No. 18.
John knocked on the wooden door. An older man, around 45, answered with a surprised chuckle.
"John… how are you?"
"Still working on Akira," John replied, stepping inside.
Kavaki offered a seat and a plate of cookies. "You still alone?" John teased.
"You don't remember?" Kavaki smiled, faintly melancholic. "I loved her. But she… that was my fault."
"Don't get upset, Kavaki."
"She's happy. That's enough for me."
John took a cookie, then got serious. "I want to know more about Taku Toizawa."
"Wine?"
"Quit drinking."
Kavaki sighed. "Taku founded the 2 o'clock Restaurant. He should've died long ago. His wife… she was an angel. Obedient to a fault."
"You're saying Akira should've killed them earlier?"
Kavaki chuckled. "You could say that."
John leaned back. "Where is Akira now?"
Kavaki raised an eyebrow. "No clue?"
"Not a damn one."
---
Scene shift — 8:49 PM, convenience store.
Akira sat behind the counter, tapping his fingers in rhythm with the ticking clock.
"Just one more hour," he murmured.
He stared into space, thoughts spiraling.
Who hired that hitman? Was it someone from the past? A client? A classmate? Or… someone who knows what I did?
More questions invaded his mind.
Is Kento still watching me? Is John getting closer? Does Hinata still trust me?
The chime above the door jingled.
A girl walked in, around his age. Her lipstick was bold, and she carried herself with confidence laced in trouble.
"Hey, handsome," she cooed. "Can I get a pack of cigarettes?"
Akira replied flatly, "No."
"Aww, harsh." She leaned in, whispering. "I know I'm underage… but I can offer something else to fulfill your needs."
His eyes didn't blink. "Will you wait until my shift ends? I'll be done soon."
She grinned and pointed at a black SUV parked outside. "I'll be there."
Ten minutes later, another part-timer arrived. "Heading out?"
Akira only nodded.
"You're young but reliable," the man said.
Outside, Akira approached the SUV. The girl stepped out, playful, seductive.
"Where is it?" she asked.
"Let's go somewhere… private."
She giggled, adjusting her shirt to reveal more of her chest. "Of course, darling."
They walked into an empty street, dimly lit by a flickering lamp. Akira stopped near a pile of crates.
"Close your eyes," he said.
She smiled. "You're shy, huh?"
"Just do it."
She closed her eyes slowly.
"Now open."
She blinked—only to be met with two burning cigarette ends, held barely a centimeter from her eyes.
She froze.
"What are you—"
"I'm sorry," Akira said, voice calm, "I'm Akira."
He plunged the burning ends into her eyes.
She screamed, but the street remained silent.
No one came.
No one ever did.
She writhed, choking on her pain, only to feel his gloved hand wrap tightly around her neck.
Coughing. Screaming. Clawing at his arm.
"I'm helping you," he whispered.
And darkness embraced her.
---