In the top-floor office of the Fujiwara building...
The room was dimly lit, the skyline of Tokyo glittering beyond the glass.
Fujiwara leaned back in his chair, a faint smile playing on his lips as he looked down at the file spread across his desk.
"So if I eliminate this guy," he said slowly, tapping his finger against the photo attached to the report,
"Then I can have her?"
The man standing across from him, dressed in a dark business suit, gave a short nod.
"Yes, Mr. Fujiwara. According to our investigation, she’s closely connected to him."
"Possibly... emotionally."
Fujiwara’s smile tightened.
He exhaled slowly and closed the folder with a quiet thud.
"Alright. Thank you."
"I’ll send the payment later."
The man bowed slightly, then turned to leave the room.
Fujiwara sat alone for a moment, tapping the edge of the file.
"...she’ll be sad. And I’ll have my chance."
He picked up his phone and dialed.
"Hello?" he said, his tone shifting to something colder.
"You said you wanted a chance to clear all your debt, right?"
There was silence on the other end.
Then Fujiwara’s voice dropped lower.
"Meet with my assistant. Tonight."
Without waiting for a reply, Fujiwara ended the call.
He turned to the man standing quietly near the door—his personal assistant.
His voice was calm but firm.
"If he can do the job... if he understands exactly what I need..."
Fujiwara leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk.
"...tell him I’ll forget every yen he owes me."
He paused, then added coldly:
"And if he succeeds, I’ll reward him."
The assistant gave a small nod.
Fujiwara looked out the window, the lights of Tokyo reflected faintly in the glass.
The small, dim-lit restaurant on the outskirts of the city buzzed faintly with old fluorescent lights. The man in tattered clothes, worn sneakers, and a heavy coat despite the heat, sat alone at a corner table.
His fingers tapped anxiously against the cheap glass of iced tea he could barely afford.
He looked toward the door every few seconds.
A sleek black car pulled up outside.
The windows rolled down halfway.
He squinted through the dusty glass and saw him.
Dressed sharp. Clean. Cold.
The assistant didn’t speak.
Just gave a slight nod and gestured toward the back door.
The man looked around nervously, then stood.
He left the drink untouched.
Slipping out the door, he hurried across the street, keeping his head low.
The car door unlocked with a click.
He opened it and slid into the back seat, heart pounding.
The assistant didn’t look at him right away.
Just passed a small black envelope over the seat.
"Everything you need is in here."
The man looked down at the envelope in his lap.
His voice was hoarse.
"Is this... really gonna cover it? All of it?"
The assistant turned his head slightly.
"If you do the job right."
A long silence stretched.
Then the man opened the envelope—and inside was a photo.
Below it, typed instructions.
Dates. Patterns. Habits.
"...This guy... What’d he do to deserve this?"
The assistant’s voice was flat.
"Don’t ask questions. If you can’t do it..."
He reached slowly for his phone.
"...I’ll call my boss now."
The man immediately raised his hand.
He licked his dry lips.
"But promise me... my debt’s cleared. And I want the reward. I need money to make it happen."
The assistant gave a faint, sharp nod.
He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen.
A moment later, the man’s cheap phone buzzed in his coat pocket.
He took it out and saw the notification.
"That’s your advance," the assistant said flatly.
"The rest will come when the job is done."
He leaned in just slightly now, his tone lowering.
"But if this leaks out..."
He paused, eyes narrowing.
"...let’s just say—your wife and kids?"
The assistant smiled faintly.
"They’re very pretty."
Silence filled the car, thick and sharp.
The man lowered his gaze, fingers tightening on the envelope in his lap.
The assistant nodded once.
"Good. Then get it done."
The assistant’s voice was like ice.
"You make the job done..."
He leaned back slightly, adjusting his cuff.
"...and the reward will go to you."
A long pause. Then his voice softened—but not kindly.
"And let’s just say—"
"Your house will be paid in full."
"Your daughter’s school? Covered. Top-tier. Uniforms, tuition, everything."
A slight smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"...will finally get that new kitchen she keeps begging you for."
The man stared forward, breathing quietly.
This wasn’t just about clearing a debt anymore.
It was about fixing a broken life.
"You do this," the assistant said calmly, "and no one asks questions. Not the bank. Not the collectors. Not your wife. Not the neighbors."
He looked the man dead in the eyes.
The car door unlocked with a soft click.
The man nodded slowly, clutching the envelope tighter.
He stepped out into the cold night air.
Inside his mind, the thoughts circled like smoke.
If I get caught... if I end up in prison...
At least my wife and daughter will have a future.
He lit a cigarette with trembling fingers, the flame flickering briefly in the dark.
The cold night air didn’t bother him. Not anymore.
He exhaled slowly, the smoke curling around his face as he began to walk.
Each step deliberate. Heavy.
First... I have to follow him.
Learn his pattern. Where he goes. How he moves.
He took another drag and looked up at the city skyline, his eyes dull.
He dropped the cigarette, crushing it under his worn shoe.
"...I lose everything."
His eyes lingered on the ember until it died out completely.
"I don’t have a choice."
"If I don’t do it..."
He looked up at the endless rows of city lights.
"...someone else will."
And if someone else did—
There would be no reward.
No future for his daughter.
"This is my one shot."
His hands trembled slightly as he pulled the photo from his coat pocket again.
Smiling. Calm. Young.
He stared at the face, then slowly folded the photo.
"I need this more than you do."