Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The air inside the apartment felt heavier than usual, thick with a tension Hayamei couldn't shake. Even the soft rustle of Na'Nami's breathing seemed to echo louder, a fragile soundtrack to the storm gathering inside her chest. She sat on the cracked vinyl couch, holding her daughter close, the warmth of the baby's small body pressing against her own. Na'Nami's tiny fingers curled around hers, trusting and innocent—everything Hayamei wanted to protect with her life.
But tonight, protection felt like a fragile lie.
Three years of looking over her shoulder. Three years of disappearing into the shadows. Every safe house, every burner phone, every false name—it all felt like a thin veil now, ready to tear apart at the slightest touch. And that touch was coming. She knew it. Ghost was close. He was hunting her again.
Hayamei's gaze drifted to the window, where the city lights blinked in the distance. Somewhere out there, Ghost was moving silently through the streets, calculating, relentless. A man she'd once barely known, a ghost from a night filled with reckless desire and cruel promises. A man who had disappeared the morning after, leaving her to raise their daughter alone. A man who now worked alongside her father—the man she'd spent years running from.
Her phone buzzed, a sudden sharp vibration that made her jump. She didn't want to look, didn't want to face whatever message was waiting. But the cold weight in her gut forced her to pick it up.
The screen glared back: You can't hide forever.
The message was simple but chilling. No signature, no time stamp. Just the threat buried in the words. She crushed the phone in her fist, fighting the surge of panic that threatened to drown her. No more running. She whispered it again. No more running.
Her thoughts raced back to Zora—the warning, the betrayal, the finality. Zora was gone. Silenced. She was alone.
The knock came suddenly, shattering the fragile silence like a bullet.
A soft, hesitant tap.
Hayamei's body stiffened. Her heart skipped. She dropped Na'Nami into the crib, carefully covering her with a soft blanket. Every instinct screamed to hide, but there was nowhere to go.
Another knock. Louder.
"Hayamei," a voice called softly. It wasn't Ghost. Not yet. But it wasn't friendly either. "Open up."
She pressed her back against the far wall, eyes darting for anything she could use—anything to defend herself and her daughter.
The door creaked open a sliver, enough for a shadow to slip inside.
"Hayamei, you can't run from this," the shadow whispered.
Before she could react, the door slammed shut behind the figure. The room darkened, footsteps echoing close.
Hayamei clenched her fists, refusing to show fear. "Who are you?"
The figure stepped forward, revealing a lean man with cold eyes and a ruthless smile. Not Ghost, but a messenger—a warning.
