March 14th, 10:50 PM – Yamanao Hospital

"Aww, did he propose to you?" one asked excitedly.

"Yeah," the other sighed, "he was trembling like crazy when he did it—in front of the whole school."

"And? What did you say?"

"I panicked. Everyone was staring, and our graduation ceremony was the next day... so I told him I'd answer tomorrow. But he never showed up again." Her voice wavered. "I wanted to say yes, but maybe he thought I was rejecting him."

Just then, a young man entered the hospital, dressed in a black-and-white hoodie. He moved silently towards the elevator.

One nurse instinctively stepped forward to stop him, but her colleague grabbed her arm. "Don't," she warned. "Do you know who he is? He was involved in that incident. The police questioned him multiple times."

"Is that so…?"

"He's probably heading to Room 501. His friend regained consciousness today."

Inside the elevator, the young man adjusted his tie—a strange act, considering he wore neither a suit nor a dress shirt beneath his hoodie. He stared into the mirror, muttering to himself, "I'm perfect."

His reflection revealed a boy in his early twenties—tall, about six feet, with a lean frame and a calm, unreadable expression. Long black hair, neatly tied back with a clip, contrasted with his otherwise unassuming presence. After a moment, he pulled his hoodie back up, concealing his face once more.

Beep—The elevator stopped.

Stepping out, he walked towards Room 501. The sound of a television broadcast echoed through the dimly lit hallway.

Reporter: "Today is March 14th, marking one month since those gruesome blood-soaked days. On February 14th, while the world celebrated Valentine's Day, Tokyo became a battlefield. A lone man terrorized the city, unleashing a storm of bullets and grenades, claiming 3,221 lives over three days. The devastation led to countless civilian casualties and an economic loss of 5 billion dollars.

"Despite deploying every available resource, the police failed to stop him. But in the end, thanks to Special Officer Suzuki Kushimoto, he was finally shot down at Rainbow Bridge."

"Next, we'll hear from Officer Suzuki on how he managed to take him down—"

Beep— The television shut off.

He stood at the bedside, holding the remote. "You should rest instead of wasting time on these pointless news reports. Your body still needs recovery."

"Geez, I'm completely fine, you know!" she huffed, crossing her arms. "I've been stuck in this bed forever! And all they feed me is plain porridge—no flavour, no variety! I want cola! I want cola! I want cola!"

She pouted, dramatically flailing her arms like a child throwing a tantrum over candy.

He watched her, a wave of relief washing over him. She was still the same. Alive, loud, and full of energy. A small smile crept onto his face.

"Alright, alright, I get it." He sighed, turning toward the door. "I'll go get it now."

"Hurry up! I'm dying here!"

"Tch. Just wait ten minutes." He waved her off as he stepped out of the room.

He made his way to the ground floor, heading toward the vending machine. As he passed, a group of nurses caught sight of his face, and a noticeable hush fell over them.

Their cheeks flushed.

"Wow... so that's what he really looks like? He's gorgeous—" one whispered.

"You said he was injured in that incident, right? If I had known he was this handsome, I wouldn't have minded taking that bullet for him myself!"

"What nonsense are you spouting?! He's mine, not yours!"

"You bitch! Go chase after your lost lover instead—he's mine!"

Their playful banter escalated into a light-hearted catfight.

Meanwhile, he stood in front of the vending machine, pressing buttons, but nothing happened. With a sigh, he turned to the arguing nurses.

"Um… excuse me, but the vending machine isn't working."

The nurses snapped out of their squabble, immediately straightening up.

"Ah! Sorry, sorry!" One of them flustered. "We were just… talking. The vending machine should be working fine! Do you want me to call a doctor?"

Another nurse muttered under her breath, "Stop sucking up to him! Besides, the doctors don't repair vending machines!"

"Oh—uh, right! My mistake! Then… I'll call the chairman instead!"

The other two turned to her in disbelief.

"Chairman? Seriously?"

The nurse looked down, her face burning red. She couldn't even meet his gaze. "Sir, we apologize for the inconvenience. You can try the supermarket nearby if you need anything."

He let out a small sigh. "Alright then…"

Just as he turned to leave, one of them blurted out, "S-Sir! Could you give me your number? We'll notify you once the machine is repaired!"

The moment the words left her lips, she cursed herself internally. What the hell am I even saying?!

But to her shock, he simply handed over his number and walked away without another word.

As soon as he left, the nurses erupted into another round of excited whispers.

"Ugh, what a headache… but at least I got his number!"

"Hey, share it with me!"

"No way! Get your own!"

And so, their little catfight resumed.

Near a small supermarket, in the shadows of a dimly lit alley, three men loitered, their eyes scanning the passing crowd.

"Looks like we won't be getting any drinks tonight either," one of them grumbled.

"Maybe you should cut down on drinking anyway," the second replied.

The third man—their leader—exhaled a plume of smoke and smirked. "Enough whining. Keep your eyes open—we might just spot a rich pig to rob tonight."

Just then, his gaze locked onto a lone figure approaching from the distance.

His smirk widened. "Well, well… look at what we have here."

The others followed his gaze and chuckled darkly.

"Hehe… Let's get ready."

Cashier: "Sir, your total is ¥1,131."

He pulled out a ¥5,000 bill and handed it over.

Cashier: "Do you have smaller change?"

"No, I don't."

Cashier: "Alright, please wait while I get some."

As the cashier rummaged through the register, he casually reached for three paper bags and three pairs of chopsticks from the counter, slipping them into his shopping bag.

Cashier: "Here you go, sir. Thank you for shopping with us!"

He stepped outside, his gaze drifting upward. The moon, half-hidden behind drifting clouds, cast a soft glow over the city.

"What a beautiful night."

Not far away, a group of men lurked in the shadows of an alley.

"Boss, he's coming out."

Their leader smirked. "Let's go."

The young man checked his phone. Just four minutes left…

Instead of heading straight back to the hospital, he turned in the opposite direction, leisurely making his way toward the nearby public park.

"Boss, this is perfect. He's heading into the park, and no one's around. We can take him easily."

The leader's grin widened. "Tch, what a lucky day."

They followed him into the park, keeping their footsteps light.

As the young man strolled along the pond, he let out a small sigh.

"Only three minutes left… I might be late."

"Get him! Our party's set for tonight!"

Three Minutes Later: 

Creak… The door slowly swung open.

"Who—?!" she yelped.

"Relax, it's me," he said, stepping in with a plastic bag. "I brought cola and some instant noodles—your favourite."

She clutched her chest, sighing in relief. "Damn it, you scared me! I thought that murderer came back..."

The moment she mentioned the killer, his expression darkened.

"Forget the past," he muttered coldly. "He's dead. There's no threat anymore."

She hesitated, sensing his shift in mood, then playfully changed the subject.

"You're surprisingly punctual. You got back exactly in ten minutes."

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Heh… well, that's just a coincidence."

Next Morning :

A group of middle-aged women jogged through the park, their chatter lively.

"Did you hear? There's a huge sale this Saturday! Should we go together?"

Suddenly, one of their dogs, a small terrier named Tommy, began barking aggressively at the pond.

"Tommy, stop barking! What's wrong with you?"

As they approached the benches near the water, their eyes narrowed in annoyance.

Three men sat eerily still, their faces covered with paper bags. Each bag had two holes for eyes and one for the nose, resembling makeshift masks.

"Ugh, what creeps! Probably some perverts stalking women in the park."

An older woman huffed and stepped forward. "Shameless scoundrels! Do you have no dignity?! This is a public space!"

Tommy's barking intensified, then—

WHOOSH!

A sudden gust of wind blew through the park.

One of the paper bags fluttered off.

And the women froze.

Their breath hitched.

One woman screamed. Another collapsed to the ground in shock.

Beneath the mask was the pale, lifeless face of a man. But the horror wasn't just that he was dead—

His head was twisted completely backward.

Yet his body sat perfectly still, as if nothing was wrong.

The dog whimpered and bolted.

One Hour Later: 

Police sirens wailed as officers cordoned off the area. A crowd gathered, murmuring in fear and confusion.

A sleek black car pulled up, and a high-ranking official stepped out. His sharp gaze swept over the scene.

"Who's in charge?"

A female officer stepped forward and saluted. "Good morning, sir. I'm Inspector Sayuri Fujimoto, handling this case—"

The man cut her off, shoving a document into her hands.

"Not anymore. I'm taking over. Read the notice."

"But, sir—!"

"No 'buts.' Just follow orders. You're out of your depth."

Sayuri clenched her jaw but swallowed her pride. His rank was far above hers—arguing would be pointless.

"Give me the briefing."

She took a steady breath.

"At 6:30 AM, a local jogging group discovered the bodies. Three men, all sitting in identical positions, staring at the pond. Their heads were completely twisted 180 degrees, facing backward. Paper bags covered their faces, with cut-outs for eyes and a nose, like a child's mask. Estimated time of death: 11:00 PM last night."

The official listened, his expression unreadable. Then, under his breath, he muttered,

"Looks like I finally have a chance to catch you again… Doctor."

His fingers clenched into fists.

"You will never forget the name is Suzuki Kushimoto, you beast."