August 4th, 2025
At Tokyo Dome - 12:34 PM
The backstage room of the Tokyo Dome pulsed with activity. Clothes racks lined the walls, each one filled with shimmering, custom-tailored stage outfits.
Employees flitted back and forth, stylists argued over accessories, and the buzz of last-minute preparations echoed through the air.
At the center of it all stood Foxxy, Japan's finest, posing in front of a mirror as her stylists made last-minute adjustments to a red-sequined outfit.
Then her phone rang.
Foxxy looked at her phone's screen. Only a handful of people had this number. But she gave Isabelle her contact info.
"Hello?"
"Hey... Can I ask you something?" Isabelle's smooth, velvety voice slid through the speaker.
Foxxy recognized it instantly. She gave a slight nod to her staff to pause and turned toward the mirror.
"Shoot," she replied, casually inspecting her reflection, tilting her head to the left.
"This might sound weird, but—"
....
....
...
In a private parking lot - 8:56 PM
The city's pulse quieted under the veil of night. In a dimly lit parking lot near the edge of Tokyo, the silence was thick and cold.
The only sound was the hum of a sleek, black car engine slowly dying down.
The detective stepped out of his vehicle. He was tall, dressed in a crisp suit that hugged his lean frame. His eyes - one a deep brown, the other an icy blue - scanned the lot carefully. Heterochromia. A gift and a curse.
He walked twenty steps forward, then took a sharp right as per the texted instructions.
There it was - a black sedan, windows tinted like secrets. As he approached, the passenger window rolled down.
He froze.
Sitting inside was none other than Isabelle Ravenglass, legendary British supermodel and icon of allure. Beside her, Madison Hart - international action star, MMA-trained, her sculpted jawline tense with unease.
"You've got to be kidding me," the detective muttered, unable to mask the surprise in his voice. "I know you. Both of you."
Isabelle giggled softly. A sound that, on red carpets, could halt a crowd. Tonight, it barely dented the tension.
"You're... that famous supermodel from the UK," he said, then turned his attention to Madison. "And you... the Hollywood action queen. What are you two doing here in Tokyo? Where's Ms. Foxxy? She asked me to come here."
Isabelle's charm went into overdrive. Her smile was a practiced weapon, softening men into submission.
"Ms. Foxxy is still preparing for her big performance," Isabelle answered, waving a manicured hand. "We just needed to speak to you privately."
Without pause, she reached into her handbag and pulled out a printed photo. A screenshot from the viral video that swept the internet like wildfire - Ian, hair unkempt, fists flying, face furious, smashing Daigo into the pavement.
Isabelle held the photo up.
"I know you've got this man locked up."
The detective studied the image, his expression hardening.
"Yes," he answered. "He's in our holding cell."
"Release him."
The detective raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
Isabelle smiled sweetly. Her tone remained gentle, almost like she was asking for tea.
"In exchange for a night with my fiancée right here."
"What the fuck, Isabelle?!" Madison exploded.
She turned sharply in her seat, eyes wide with rage and betrayal. Her voice echoed inside the car.
"Do you think I'm some object to be traded like jewelry or fucking currency?!"
The detective, caught off guard, chuckled slyly despite himself. Isabelle's lips curled into another giggle.
"Just kidding," she said innocently.
But the detective's smile vanished.
"I know you love money more than women," Isabelle said now, her tone calm. Calculating. "So I'm offering you sixty million yen. Clean. In cash or transfer, your choice. In return, you walk the man out of there and deliver him to me."
Madison groaned. She leaned her head against the window, clearly exasperated.
"Jesus fucking Christ... Isabelle, he's not worth this. He's not your responsibility."
But Isabelle didn't budge. Her ocean-blue eyes, always playful, were suddenly stone cold. Her grip on the photo was tight. Her nails dug into the paper slightly.
The detective stared at her. Then slowly back at the photo.
And something clicked.
"Wait a minute," he muttered. "I know this guy."
Isabelle blinked. "You do?"
"Yeah. You're not the first person who's tried to pay a mountain of cash to get him out of a mess."
Madison turned her head, suddenly interested. "What do you mean by that?"
The detective leaned back slightly, as if sifting through memories.
"Last week. Your man was convicted with a crime he didn't commit. As if someone was trying to set him up.
Isabelle and Madison didn't respond.
"Falsely convicted then convicted. Maybe he did murder that old landlord."
Isabelle didn't sway by the the detective's words.
"You still didn't tell me who paid for him."
Th detective scoffed. "It was Ms. Foxxy."
Isabelle and Madison's eyes were widened.
"Foxxy?" Madison spoke, confused. "Why?"
The detective shrugged. "Don't know."
"Lucky bastard. He has women paying for him." He added.
Then Isabelle spoke, trying to forget the thought that Foxxy may have a connection with Ian, or worse. "Anyway, release him tonight and deliver him to me. I'll text you the address. I already have your number."
"Goddammit, Isabelle. You're trashing money for what??" Madison chimed in, bitterness lacing her voice.
"For a man who isn't worth our damn care and time?"
Isabelle didn't flinch.
"This is my money. And you have no business with it." she said softly.
Madison scoffed. Trying to make a sense of her fiancée's decision.
Silence stretched between the three of them like tension on a bowstring. Finally, the detective exhaled and tapped his fingers on the doorframe.
"Sixty million yen," he repeated. "You're serious?"
"More serious than I've ever been."
He glanced down at his phone, tapped the screen once, and sent a message.
"Alright. I'll need ten minutes."
Isabelle leaned back, satisfied.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me," he muttered, walking away. "Thank your money."
Once the detective was out of earshot, Madison turned to Isabelle.
"Why him? Why this guy?"
Isabelle leaned her head back, closing her eyes. She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she whispered:
"You don't understand, darling. And you wouldn't."
Madison crossed her arms.
"You want to reward him with a get-out-of-jail-free card and bring him into our lives?"
Isabelle looked her fiancée in the eyes.
"As I said, you wouldn't understand."
Madison stared at her for a long time, before finally looking away.
"Ugh."