She was already walking the path. She was—whether she realised it or not-–already too far in to turn back.
And the second chance was already behind her.
.
.
.
The city was strangely quiet that morning when Yui stopped by the café after so long for a refreshing coffee before returning to work.
She forced a polite smile at the receptionist while stifling the weight of another note taped under her door. Follow the boy again… The words stuck in her mind on loop. This was the moment she chose—to follow or to step away.
Shiori greeted her with concern in her eyes. "You look… off today. Did you get any sleep last night?"
Yui clutched the disposable coffee cup into her hand and sighed. "Enough."
Shiori frowned but didn't think it's appropriate to question her further.
The day passed in routine. Yui treated patients, though her mind wandered—back to the boy, the basement, the bartender's warning. She nearly flinched when her phone buzzed again. Another unknown number. But this time: nothing. Just the screen staring back at her tired eyes.
That evening, uncertainty and curiosity tangled inside her. She caught Shiori's observant gaze filled with suspicion. "Heading out early," she lied. "Catching up with a friend."
Shiori smiled at her, "That's great! You are always so uptight, you do need to let go sometime doc." Though something in her eyes suggested she thought Yui was heading into trouble.
And perhaps she was.
That night the city lights felt rather menacing than comforting. Yui traced her path from the clinic to the alley where she'd first seen the mysterious kid. Her gut clenched when she noticed a new boy this time, leaning against a dim wall, cigarette in hand, trying to appear older than he looked. Her thoughts shifted to that other boy with bruises. What happened to him? Why is he not here this time?
But her thoughts changed when the boy looked up at her, expression neutral as she approached. He didn't try to run away unlike that other kid.
The boy flicked ash to the ground. "Follow me".
Yui followed the boy into an alley where he took a halt.
The boy checked the surroundings first and then began, "I was instructed to hand you this."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim black card. On it, stamped in red ink: an address and a few directions.
There was no instruction, no time—just the card.
Yui's heart pounded. "He wants me to go?"
The boy shrugged. "He said: You still have time to walk away… if you choose to. You should go tonight."
His answer only intensified the tension. Yui slipped the card into her coat. "Thank you." And then, without waiting, she began walking towards her car.
At first the boy followed, but Yui shook him off.
The address felt familiar. She hesitated at first, however curiosity got the best of her and she started driving to the destination.
She parked near an alley and followed the directions instructed on the card. A left turn from the small cafe, into an alley—straight—another left turn and take the first right.
Her high heel clicks echoed in the night air on damped concrete.
When she reached the final address— the first right alleyway.
A dead end.
Yui stood still, the dim glow of neon banners behind her casting a faint pink hue on the soaked pavement. Mikey stood a few feet ahead, shoulders relaxed, as if he had all the time in the world. He always looked that way—unbothered, untouchable, inhuman.
"I followed the boy and then followed the instructions on the card," Yui said flatly. "Now what?"
Mikey turned his head slowly, the silver strands of his hair catching the light. He didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked at her with those storm-gray eyes, the ones that saw straight through skin and into marrow.
"Yui Konoe. You remember this place right?" he asked.
Yui looked around. Narrow alleys. Empty crates. A rusted vending machine with faded labels. It felt oddly familiar, yet far away—like a photograph from someone else's life.
"No," she lied.
Mikey gave a soft chuckle and turned back to face her fully. "You're not as good at pretending as you think."
Yui's hands twitched. "Why did you bring me here and how do you know my last name?"
"I didn't," Mikey said, walking closer and ignoring her second question he continued. "You brought yourself. You followed the note."
He was too close now. Close enough for her to smell the faint trace of smoke and cologne, something sharp and heavy like pine and blood. Her chest felt tight.
"Why me?" she asked again this time with frustrations clear in her voice. "Why all this? The letters. The photos. The test? What do you even want from me? Tell me. Please."
Mikey raised a hand slowly—not to touch her, but to point. Toward a crumbling wall where graffiti had long faded.
"Do you remember the shrine behind this alley?" he asked. "Where you lit incense. The day after the funeral."
Yui's throat tightened. She took a step back.
"The shrine? Shibuya? Ringing any bells Missy?" Mikey chuckled.
"I told you," she said. "I don't—"
"Yes, you do."
Mikey's voice was quiet. Not threatening. Not cold. But something worse—gentle. And it cut deeper.
"This is where it started," he continued. "Where you made the choice to walk away from everything."
Yui stared at him, stunned. "How do you know that?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he moved past her and motioned for her to follow.
They walked in silence through a narrow door hidden behind stacked crates. The inside was dark, but Mikey didn't need light. He moved like he'd memorized every creak of the floorboard. Eventually, he stopped before an old table. A projector sat on it. He flipped a switch.
A whir.
Then grainy light.
Yui blinked at the flickering image on the wall—an old home video, the kind recorded on camcorders two decades ago. She saw a younger version of herself. Ten, maybe eleven. Smiling wide. Surrounded by a lavish garden. A towering man in a suit knelt beside her.
Her father.
Her blood froze.
Eyes wide , "What the hell is this?" She asked, raising her voice.
"I found it in a locked archive," Mikey said. "Your family buried it. Like everything else."
The video shifted. Laughter. Then a cut.
Now the image changed: a funeral. Black umbrellas. Tears.
A boy's coffin.
Yui's knees weakened.
"No," she whispered. "No, no, no…"
Mikey paused the video.
"Who was he?" he asked.
Yui turned away. Her nails dug into her palms. "My brother."
"What happened to him?"
She shook her head. Her voice cracked. "He died. He was murdered. Shot dead."
Mikey didn't speak. He let the silence stretch. Heavy.
Tears welled at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away with force.
Yui eventually continued.
"My father…" She paused, anger fogging her brain. He was talking to those men and then….. She started sobbing deeply. "I should've died that day and not him, if…—if I hadn't let him follow me—he'd still be alive. If he didn't jump in to save me, HE'D STILL BE ALIVE." She cursed herself internally.
Her voice was hoarse.
"Why did you leave?" He asked.
"I tried living with them, but eventually I couldn't bear that burden anymore. Everything reminded me of him. My father blamed me for his death and despised me for being alive. So, I-I… I left that house." She sniffled, trying to wipe her tears with the back of her hand.
She continued, "I packed a bag and left in the middle of the night. No calls. No notes. Nothing. I didn't want his money. I didn't want his name. I only wanted my brother back."
"I didn't want to be a memory of death." She started breathing heavily but tried concealing it from the man standing in front of her.
Mikey finally spoke. "And now you stitch broken teeth in a quiet clinic. Hiding in plain sight."
"I rebuilt myself," she snapped. "I made a new life. That past—he doesn't exist to me anymore."
Mikey tilted his head. "But he exists to me."
Yui froze. The air turned colder. Her breathing became shallow again.
"What?"
Mikey stepped into the light now. For once, the shadows didn't cloak him.
"My name. Manjiro Sano. I bet it doesn't mean anything to your father. But his name means a great deal to me. Takeo Konoe—the wealthiest gang leader of the biggest Yakuza clan—Kurogane with 5500 active members."
Yui stared at him, stunned. "How do you know all of this?"
"Your father doesn't just bury mistakes," Mikey said darkly. "He builds empires on corpses. And I've waited years for a way back into his world. To take over him and become the most powerful gang leader in the entire Japan."
Yui felt her stomach turn. "So this… all of this… was about him?"
Mikey's eyes locked onto hers. "It started with him."
"You used me," she whispered, backing a step away. "The clinic. The gifts. The games. Was I just a piece in your sick plan?"
"No." The word cut through the air like a blade. Mikey stepped forward, slow and deliberate. "You were the door. I didn't know you were his daughter until I sat in your chair. Until I saw your eyes. The same ones as that little girl in the video."
She froze.
"He locked his world tight," Mikey continued, voice low, almost regretful. "But
you—his precious daughter—exiled, forgotten… You were my only way in. The moment I saw you, I knew."
Yui's hands clenched into fists. Her chest tightened like a trap. "I left that world behind. I wanted nothing to do with it. And now you're dragging me back?"
"No, Yui," Mikey murmured. "I'm not dragging you. I'm offering you the truth. The one you've avoided all these years."
She wanted to scream, to hit him, to make it stop—but instead, her voice cracked. "I watched my brother die, Mikey. Right there. Right in front of me. And my father pretended it never happened. I ran because silence was the only thing louder than his lies."
"You don't know what it's like to carry that kind of memory," She whispered.
"I do," he said. "I carry a graveyard on my back. But unlike you, I never ran."
Yui looked at him then—not as the man who sent mysterious notes, not as the mafia figure whispered about in Tokyo's underground—but as a man shaped by ghosts, the same way she had been, no even worse.
He stepped closer. So close she could feel the weight of his truth.
Yui's world tilted. "So what now? You kill me?"
Mikey frowned. "If I wanted to hurt you, I would have. But I haven't. And I won't."
"Then why—why the letters? The photo? The test?" She demanded an answer.
Mikey paused. Then said softly, "Because I needed to know what kind of person you were."
"And?"
"And you didn't run."
Yui's breath hitched.
Mikey leaned in, voice like smoke, lips barely moving.
"I don't know what you are yet, Yui. Victim? Pawn? Ally? I haven't decided."
She clenched her jaw, voice trembling. "I'm not a pawn."
"We'll see."
The projector clicked off.
The darkness wrapped around them again.
But it wasn't suffocating anymore. It was… intimate.
Mikey reached into his coat and pulled out a folded paper. He placed it in her hand.
"Think about your father. And think about how many graves were dug so he could sit in a palace."
Yui unfolded it. A list of names. Photos. Some familiar, most not.
"Who are these?" she asked, voice hollow.
"Ghosts," Mikey said. "Ones your father created."
She looked up at him. "And what do you want from me?"
"I want nothing from you," he said. "Except the truth. And maybe... the choice to stand beside me."
Yui didn't respond.
Mikey stepped back, out of the light, back into his world of shadows.
But before he vanished completely, he looked at her again.
And then he was gone.
Yui stood in the stillness, alone but not abandoned.
Her hands shook, but it wasn't fear anymore. It was rage. Pain. Grief.
And under it all… a strange, quiet pull.
To him.
To the dark.
To the truth.