"Tell me, what makes you think I'll let you slip through the borders of my establishment so easily, Koby?"
The words were not a question, but a challenge.
They dripped from the mouth of Yuri Calypso, the Founder and former sovereign of a criminal underworld that spanned both Yakuza and Mafia territories.
She stood like a sentinel, backed by the elite five percent of her private security—men whose loyalty had been forged in blood.
Beside her, her Assistant, Ramoss, stood rigid, his eyes darting toward the horizon as if calculating the cost of the impending catastrophe.
Directly across from her stood the Hero of the World, the Military's Strongest Soldier, General Koby Frantzes.
He was a pillar of iron amidst a storm of heavy machinery.
Behind him, the night was punctuated by the silhouettes of tanks that had pivoted their turrets to corner Yuri's small army.
In the air, the rhythmic, thunderous thrum of helicopter blades beat against the atmosphere, searchlights cutting through the darkness like the eyes of gods ready to wage war on the daughter of a deceased Yakuza Lord.
Two titans, standing face-to-face at the hotel's grand entrance, their mere presence warping the air around them into something thick and suffocating.
"As per the direct orders of the Malaysian Government—orders suggested and finalized by me—I suggest you stand down, Yuri," General Koby responded.
His voice was a low rumble, entirely unimpressed by the lethal tension radiating from her.
"And just what grand delusion has brought you here? My public execution?" Yuri's lip curled into a sneer as she gestured toward his tanks. "The arrest of my men, who have done nothing but maintain the comfort of children I brought here for a simple vacation? You're overstepping, General."
"Exactly nine years ago, a tragedy occurred that the world chose to forget," Koby began, his eyes narrowing until they were slivers of purple ice. "A school shooting in a kindergarten. The case was left unsolved, the files buried. Dozens died—parents, teachers, and the shooters themselves. Everyone, except for one survivor who slipped through the cracks of the investigation. Tell me if I'm wrong, Yuri, but my senses tell me that survivor is currently hiding within your hotel."
Koby crossed his arms, his posture immovable. "Until that individual is in my custody, this investigation continues. You will order every student and guest to remain in their current positions. No one moves until I say so."
Yuri's response was a sharp, jagged bark of laughter.
She scoffed, snorted, and finally threw her head back, her eyes dancing with mockery as she looked at the weapons of destruction leveled at her.
"Heh... all of 'this' just to find one person?" She sighed, shaking her head. "You're playing games, Koby. You haven't changed. All these years, and you still haven't learned to stop overestimating every little shadow in the room."
Koby's jaw tightened, his gaze darkening. "I am not overes—"
"You overestimate everything so much that, exactly ten years ago, you decided to crash a birthday party and turn it into a slaughter," Yuri hissed, her voice dropping into a deadly, intimate register. "You killed Kenzo Calypso that day. You killed my father, Koby. Don't stand there and play the hero for me."
At a silent signal, one of Yuri's men hurled a sleek black briefcase into the air.
Yuri caught it behind her back without looking, her thumb clicking a recessed button.
With a mechanical whir, the briefcase dismantled itself, its components expanding and locking around her forearms in a blur of carbon fiber and steel.
Within seconds, she stood with dual, heavy-bore cannons hummed with energy on both arms.
Her men followed suit, drawing katanas, maces, and RPGs, aiming them directly at the line of soldiers who responded by clicking their safeties off.
"Ten years later, and you're still trying to interrupt the lives of children who are meant to be happy," Yuri shouted, her cannons beginning to glow with a faint, blue light. "In ways I was meant to have!"
Yuri leveled her arms at Koby.
"Tsk, I knew it. There's no saving this damned fool." Koby thought to himself. "Prepare for open fire!" Koby roared, his voice booming over the sound of the helicopters.
Yuri's men screamed, a collective war cry of reckless abandon as they prepared to charge the military line to avenge their queen's father.
But before the first shot could be fired, a blur of motion streaked between the two factions.
An old man, moving with a speed that defied his age, jumped into the no-man's-land between the armies.
He threw his hands up, a wall of pure authority.
"HALT! STOP THIS AT ONCE!"
The air seemed to freeze.
Yuri and her men skidded to a halt, staring at the figure of Commander George.
He stood straight, a small, weary chuckle escaping him as he turned toward Yuri.
"It's been far too long, hasn't it... Yuri?" George said.
Yuri's eyes widened, the blue light of her cannons flickering. "George? You old geezer... get out of the way before you get flattened."
"Now, now, let's not be hasty," Commander George waved his hands in a calming gesture. "We all know a war here is entirely unnecessary. We are all pursuing the same ghost, even if we're looking at it from different angles."
George shrugged his shoulders, an awkward, peacemaking smile on his face. "Instead of turning this parking lot into a graveyard, why don't we try the novel concept of cooperation?"
Yuri scoffed, but she slowly lowered her arms, the cannons retracting slightly. "Fine. But for the record, we are hunting a killer who murdered a student earlier today. Don't waste my time trying to link them to whatever ancient history you're digging up."
George held up a finger. "You're absolutely right, Yuri. We are after the person you are after, yet we are also looking for someone else entirely. It's obvious, really, because my friend General Koby here–"
"I didn't feel the same presence from your murderer that I feel from the survivor," Koby interrupted, stepping forward cautiously. "The man who killed a citizen hours ago in the alley—he didn't have the same soul as the 'Demon of Nine Years Ago'."
Yuri's brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "The 'Demon of Nine Years Ago'? I'm hearing that right, am I?"
Commander George sighed. "That is the title locals have given the lone survivor of the school shooting incident. Many believe it's a false rumor, a legend... but Koby's senses are rarely wrong. He can identify a devil from a saint across a battlefield."
George reached into his uniform and pulled out a leather-bound document.
He opened it, revealing a folder and a grainy photograph.
"This is the identity of the boy from that kindergarten," George said, holding it out for Yuri to see. "A child named Narasao Tarosono. We found this in the wreckage of the school office. I'm hoping you have him somewhere on your guest list."
Yuri leaned in, her eyes scanning the photo of a young boy with short hair and black eyes.
She felt a flicker of recognition, a phantom memory of a face she had seen in the hotel, but she suppressed the thought.
"I'm not sure," Yuri said, her voice more controlled. "The teachers handle the identities of the students. I don't keep track of every brat in the building."
George smiled and snapped the folder shut, tucking it away. "Excellent. Now that we have a lead, would you be so kind as to allow us to continue this conversation inside, where there isn't a tank pointed at your lobby?"
Yuri hesitated, then nodded. "Fine. But only you and a small detail of your men." She turned her head, her eyes flashing with a deadly, final warning as she looked at Koby. "He isn't coming in. Not after what he did."
George gave a few placating nods. "Okay, okay. Koby will remain here."
He walked toward Yuri, placing a hand on her shoulder and gently guiding her toward the entrance.
His soldiers and Yuri's men followed in a tense, silent procession.
In the chaotic movement of the merging groups, no one noticed a small figure in a dark, nondescript outfit slipping into the center of the crowd.
Wyne, her face hidden by a hood, moved with a ghost-like precision, successfully infiltrating the hotel alongside the men, her eyes fixed on the doors.
The gates were open.
The players were all inside.
And the devil was waiting.