Chapter 29

Yuki sits on her bed, her knees pulled tight to her chest. Her eyes stare straight ahead, unfocused, as if she’s looking through the wall rather than at it. Her jaw is clenched, her thoughts circling the same fear over and over―Isamu.

Her phone vibrates in her hand. It’s Madi.

Madi: Yuki, you okay? 🙁

Yuki’s thumbs hesitate over the screen before she types.

Yuki: No, I’m so scared. What if they kill him?

The words make her stomach twist the moment she sends them.

A few seconds pass. Then her phone buzzes again.

Madi: No, Yuki :(( I don’t think they will. People saw it happen, there are enough witnesses who know it was Mr. Hanekawa’s men who took him. If anything happens to him, it will come back to him. He wouldn’t want that. It would ruin him. His business, his name, everything he’s built. Trust me, he’s not going to risk losing all of that.

Yuki reads the message twice. Then a third time.

It should make her feel better. It almost does. But the reassurance slips through her fingers just as fast as it comes.

Witnesses aren’t proof. And there’s no footage. No recordings.

Her grip tightens around her phone.

Yuki: I don’t know.. What if it’s not enough? I mean, there’s no CCTV that caught it, no evidence, and I didn’t see anything about it on the news yet either.. Are they even looking for him properly? What if no one believes the witnesses? What if nothing is done and he gets away with it?

Her eyes sting and blur as tears prick at the corners. Her hands shake so badly that the phone wobbles in her grip, but she forces herself to hit ‘send.’ Then she sets the phone down beside her, and curls forward, burying her face in her knees.

Her lips move in a quiet, desperate mumble, almost too soft to hear.

“Please.. please keep him safe, God.. Don’t let anything happen to him.. Please, bring him back.. Please..”

Then, suddenly, a flicker of memory pierces through the haze of fear: the little paper Worman gave her.

She twists on her side, fumbling toward her bag, and digs inside. Her fingers find the small folded note, and she pulls it out, unfolding it.

It reads:

Yuki,

This might be hard to believe, but I’m actually an undercover detective. My real name is Aren, and I’ve been following Dori for a long time. He’s a dangerous criminal. I’ve been trying to gather enough evidence to put him behind bars, but the official police investigation was shut down without properly looking into it. So I’m handling this in secret. I know he’s been stalking and harassing you, but that alone won’t be enough to get him arrested. His connections let him get away with worse. We need hard evidence. And I need your help with that. Call me when you can, but use your grandmother’s phone. I have a feeling yours might be bugged. He’s good with hacking and tracking.

My number: 080-####-####

Yuki stares at the note, her eyes wide. Shock pins her to the bed―she never would have guessed that WORMAN, that weirdo farting and carrying a damn worm, was actually an undercover detective.

Her heart races, pounding so hard it hurts, but beneath the fear, a sliver of relief creeps in. A detective knows what’s happening.

A DETECTIVE.

Her fingers tighten around the note, and for a moment she just breathes, letting the weight of that realization sink in.

Eventually, she pushes herself up from the bed and quietly heads downstairs.

Her heart pounds as she reaches the living room and picks up her grandmother’s phone. She draws in a shaky breath, and dials the number on the note.

She holds the phone to her ear.

One ring.

Another.

A third.

Her stomach twists tighter with each second of silence, until the line finally clicks.

“Hello?” a voice says. It’s deep. Unfamiliar. Definitely not Aren.

Yuki freezes. “Uh.. Aren?” she tries, her voice small and uncertain.

There’s a small shuffle on the line, like someone adjusting their grip on the phone.

“Is this Yuki?”

“Yeah,” she answers, tense. “Who are you?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” The stranger clears his throat. “I’m Hans. Aren’s cousin. I know everything. I’m helping him with the investigation.”

Yuki blinks, stunned. “Oh..”

Hans goes on. “Anyway.. about Aren. He’s, uh.. getting arrested right now.”

Her heart drops. “W-What?”

“Yeah, they finally figured things out. They forced the look-alike’s glasses off and realized he was a fake.”

Hans stands in the cold, the snow crunching beneath his boots. Flashing lights paint the ground blue and red.

His breath fogs in the air as he watches his cousin surrounded by police. Aren looks calm and composed, despite the situation.

One of the officers steps forward, his voice firm. “Dojīma Aren. You are under arrest for stalking and violating a restraining order, impersonation and fraud, and for conducting unauthorized investigations into closed cases.”

Aren doesn’t resist. The cuffs click shut around his wrists, and he lifts his chin, meeting Hans’s eyes for a brief second.

Then, he violently flares his nostrils.

Hans chuckles. “You idiot..”

The officers shove him forward, gripping his arms tightly as they march him across the snow.

“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law,” the lead officer calls out. “You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to consult with an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be provided for you.”

They shove him into the back of the squad car and slam the door shut behind him.

Hans watches the vehicle pull away, snow kicking up around the tires, and Aren’s figure shrinking behind the tinted windows.

He tucks his free hand into his coat pocket and continues speaking to Yuki on the phone, “Anyway.. don’t worry about him. He’ll be back soon. Way too soon. That’s what he said. And I believe him. His farts shall not be underestimated, bro. They’re so damn powerful.”

Yuki’s mouth opens, then closes. She can’t help a tiny, incredulous frown, but the worry in her chest doesn’t ease. “Well.. yeah, but..”

Before she can’t finish, Hand adds, “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I’m serious. If Aren says he’ll be back, he will. I’ve known him my whole life. It’s practically part of the plan at this point. So don’t worry, okay? You’re not alone in this. We’re with you. And we’ll deal with Dori.”

For a moment, Yuki can’t answer. Her throat tightens, and she presses the phone closer to her ear as her eyes sting again.

She swallows hard, blinking away the tears. “Okay,” she murmurs quietly. “Thank you.”

There’s a short pause before the thought that’s been clawing at her chest finally spills out.

“Hans, do you.. do you know anything about Isamu?” she asks.

On the other end, Hans exhales slowly. The brief silence that follows tells her the answer before he even speaks.

“Not yet,” he says at last.

Yuki’s stomach sinks.

“The police checked Mr. Hanekawa’s house,” he continues. “And his offices. They searched the properties and brought him in for questioning. But he denied everything.”

Yuki grips the phone tighter.

“They didn’t find Isamu. And without solid proof, they can’t hold Hanekawa for long. So right now.. we don’t really have much.”

“But there were witnesses!” Yuki blurts, her voice rising despite herself.

“People saw it happen! And he said it himself! He said he’d kill the person who hurt Mei! It was in the frickin’ newspapers!”

Her chest heaves as the words spill out, frustration and fear tangling together.

Hans runs a hand over his face.

“I know. But he claimed he just said that out of anger, and that he’d never actually hurt anyone. That’s what he told the police when they questioned him. And the witnesses.. a lot of them were scared and backed away. Others didn’t even come forward. Without CCTV or physical evidence, there’s just not enough to hold him right now.”

He lets out a low sigh. “I know it feels hopeless, Yuki, but they’re still working on it, and we are too. We’re gathering everything we can, and we’ll keep at it until we find him.”

“You don’t get it!” Yuki snaps. “There’s no time! I-Isamu.. he could be in real danger right now, and we’re just.. w-working on it? Gathering evidence? That’s not enough!”

Her words tumble out in a rush, each one fueled by panic. “We can’t wait for the perfect proof―for them to figure it out! He could get hurt, or w-worse! We have to do something now!”

“Yuki.. I get it, I really do. But freaking out won’t help―”

A sharp chime cuts through the tension.

The doorbell rings.

Yuki freezes, then slowly glances toward the front door. Her eyes narrow as the sharp chime echoes again. Then her gaze flicks to the clock on the wall. It’s 11 p.m.

She swallows hard, and she sets the phone down with a click. At the same time, her grandmother shuffles down the stairs.

“Yuyu? Why haven’t you opened the door? I thought I heard the bell..” she says.

Without waiting for an answer, the old lady heads toward the front door, her hand reaching for the handle.

Yuki jolts, scrambling after her. “Wait!” she blurts, but her grandmother only glances back, raising an eyebrow.

The door is opened before Yuki can reach it; she snags the edge, fingers closing on wood that already gives.

They both freeze.

Standing on the porch is Dori. The upper half of his white hair is pulled back, the rest loose around his head, and his scarred eye is fully exposed.
He’s wearing a black jacket left open over a white shirt, and dark grey jeans that are slightly baggy.

In his hands, he holds a small bouquet of flowers, a box of chocolates, and a teddy bear.

Before she can stop herself, the words slip out, “WHAT THE F*CK.”
 
 
TO BE CONTINUED...