The world went dark as Masahiro and Matthew slipped their blindfolds on, the cool fabric pressing against their skin, cutting them off from the outside world. The low hum of an engine filled the silence as masked men in black suits led them into separate cars. The heavy thrum of the vehicles’ engines was a dull reminder of their impending destination, and the unease settled in their stomachs, both of them instinctively aware that they were stepping into a world beyond their control.The drive felt like an eternity, the endless twists and turns heightening the tension. Masahiro’s mind raced through every possibility. What awaited them? Were they walking into a trap, or was this merely part of the game they were forced to play? Adrenaline pumped through his veins, the knot in his stomach only growing tighter.Finally, the cars came to a stop. The low growl of the engines silenced, and they were instructed to step out. Masahiro could feel his pulse pounding in his ears as he was guided t
Masahiro and Matthew stepped further into the heart of the Spiced Cherry, each absorbed by the overwhelming sights and sounds. The dim lighting, velvet curtains, and the constant hum of decadent conversations felt as though they were being swallowed by the very air itself.They began in the Standard Areas, which, though opulent, felt slightly off. The Main Hall was vast, with towering chandeliers casting flickering shadows over the swirls of color and movement. A haze of expensive perfumes and narcotics clung to the air. The mingling guests, adorned in extravagant costumes and masks, flirted with carefree abandon, the mood light but fraught with an underlying tension.“Looks like a playground for the rich and bored,” Matthew remarked, his eyes scanning the scene.Masahiro nodded, his gaze lingering on the faces of the guests… everything seemed so superficial, so performative. The laughter and flirtations didn’t quite reach their eyes. It was as though they were
Masahiro and Matthew took their seats alongside the team. Ethan was sitting hunched over his laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. Evelyn, glanced at David, both waiting for the briefing to start, meanwhile Hawthorne leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her expression serious."Alright, let's get down to business," Masahiro said after clearing his throat. "What we found at the Spiced Cherry confirms it: they're hosting a carnival in few days. Tickets are 50 grand each."Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "A carnival? Really? That's their big plan?"Matthew snorted, falling back in his chair. "You'd be surprised what kind of 'entertainment' draws in the crowd. But yeah, it's real."Ethan added, eyes stuck on the screen, "I dug on the dark web. The Eclipse Carnival is real. They are limiting the tickets sold to only a few spots. We have only two days left to buy the tickets."Ms. Hawthorne pushed off the wall, intrigued. "What's the date of the eclips
Masahiro moved noiselessly, his black shoes making no sound on the polished floor. He checked each stall methodically, pushing open the doors one by one. Empty.Satisfied, he stepped back to the entrance, pressing his back against the cold metal door to keep it secure. His hand moved to his watch, tapping a discreet button to activate the communicator. A faint buzz confirmed the connection.“Team, this is Payne,” he said in a low, controlled tone, his voice steady despite the adrenaline pumping through him. “We’re inside. No sign of Mr. K, but we’ve confirmed Rocco is here.”There was a beat of silence before David’s voice crackled over the line. “Rocco?”"Yes," Masahiro confirmed, his tone clipped. "Looks like he's the one running the show tonight. No sign of Mr. K at this time."A sharp exhale came through the line, followed by a muttered curse. "Damn it." David's voice steadied as he ad
Hours later, Masahiro slowly regained consciousness. The beeping of machines and the dim light filtering through the drawn curtains pulled him from the depths of sleep. As his eyes adjusted, he caught sight of Matthew slumped in a chair beside his bed, his blond hair tousled and tattooed arms heavy on the table.The sight brought a wave of irritation mingled with relief. They were in this together, whether they liked it or not. Masahiro shifted slightly, the movement causing a sharp sting in his side.Matthew stirred, blinking rapidly as he focused on Masahiro. Relief washed over his features. “You’re awake! Thank God,” he said, standing up and moving closer to the bed.Masahiro's eyes flickered over him, and something silent, some understanding, passed between them. The air was thick, charged with emotion neither wanted to acknowledge. Matthew, for once, was visibly relieved."What happened?" Masahiro asked, trying to piece together the
The sterile smell of the hospital mingled with the comforting aroma of home-cooked food as Matthew stepped into Masahiro's hospital room, balancing a tray laden with lunch. He had gone to the trouble of preparing something decent at home, determined to take care of his reluctant partner. Dull and insipid options from the cafeteria, Matthew had hoped the meal he'd lovingly cooked would lift Masahiro's spirits."Hey, I brought you lunch," Matthew said as he set the tray on a small table beside Masahiro's bed. He beamed with pride at his handiwork: the plate set out in fine fashion, grilled chicken, steamed vegetables, rice.Masahiro turned away, and there was cynicism written into his eyes. "I'm not eating that.""Come on, it's good for you," Matthew implored, crossing his arms, "you need to gain your strength.”"I said no." Masahiro's voice was firm, but the defiance didn't quite rule out curiosity. "You could have poisoned it."Matthew raised
The apartment was in semi-darkness, the soft glow of a lamp dancing across the walls in small curves. Masahiro was sitting on the couch with his cast resting on a pillow as he watched Matthew rummage through the first aid supplies, they had bought. The dancing light brought into prominence the focus of the blue eyes when he readied to change the bandages on Masahiro's arm.“You know, you're pretty good at this," Masahiro said, a hint of admiration in his voice. "I didn't really think you'd be so… capable."Matthew looked up, a smirk playing on his lips. "Surprised? You think just because I've spent time in a prison cell, I don't know how to take care of myself?”"No, it's just that most people wouldn't connect 'ex-capo' with 'first aid expert,'" Masahiro replied, his eyes fixed keenly on Matthew as he carefully unwrapped the old bandage.Matthew chuckled low and warm. "Well, you'd be surprised how much you can learn when you're on your
The precinct was bustling with activity as Matthew stepped inside, the scent of coffee and ink mingling with the hum of ringing phones and hurried conversations.He made his way to the reception desk, where a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes and a weary smile was typing away at her computer. She glanced up as he approached.“Can I help you?”“I’m here to see the new detective assigned for the Mr. K´s case,” Matthew said, keeping his tone neutral.The woman nodded, clicking through her screen. “Ah, the interim partner for the Mr. K case.” She gestured toward the second floor. “His office is upstairs, second door on the right. Can’t miss it… he’s probably got his feet up on the desk.”Matthew raised an eyebrow at that but said nothing, simply nodding his thanks before heading toward the staircase.As he reached the second floor, he found the door slightly ajar. Pus
Masahiro stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his collar with his left hand. The fitted white shirt he wore accentuated his athletic build, hugging his body in just the right way. His trousers, cut with precision, fell perfectly over his polished shoes. The black fabric contrasted sharply with the cast on his right arm, but there was nothing he could do about that. He’d learned to live with the cast, much like he’d learned to live with the tension in his life.Tonight, though, he wanted to forget. The weight of Matthew’s presence in the apartment, the constant push and pull between them… it was suffocating. He needed a break, just a few hours away to clear his head. He slung his jacket over his left shoulder, his mind already drifting to the loud, pulsating escape the club would offer.As he stepped out of his room, he found Matthew sitting on the couch, casually flipping through some papers. Masahiro paused, half expecting a comment. He could feel Matthew’s eyes on
The next morning, the memory of Matthew’s indifference clung to Masahiro like a weight, sour and unresolved. He tried to drown it out by burying himself in paperwork, but every time the door creaked, or footsteps echoed in the hall, he stiffened, half-expecting Matthew to appear again.Sure enough, the door creaked open, and Matthew stepped inside, carrying a first-aid kit. He didn’t ask for permission or exchange pleasantries… just strode over to the bed and sat down, casually nodding for Masahiro to join him."Time to change the bandages," Matthew said, his voice even, flipping open the kit without looking up.Masahiro’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t argue. His injured arm still needed attention, and as much as he hated it, Matthew was the one who had been helping him with the dressings. Without a word, Masahiro sat down beside him, feeling the tension thickening the air.Matthew started unwrapping the bandage, his fingers brushing against Masahiro’s skin. The contact sent an uncomfor
The office of the police station was dimly lit, with papers and photographs scattered across the desk. Lewis leaned over a large map pinned to a corkboard while Matthew sat back in a chair, the tattoo map from Ridley’s back spread out in his hands.“Something’s not adding up,” Lewis muttered, squinting at the intricate details of the tattoo.“What do you mean?”Lewis tapped the edge of the map. “Look at this… this doesn’t match the area around Spiced Cherry at all.”Matthew was speechless, just staring at the map in front of him.Lewis grabbed a marker, circling a few points on the official map. “The coordinates we pulled don’t line up with the ghost brothel’s location. The Spiced Cherry and Ridley’s map lead to completely different places.” Matthew frowned, leaning forward. His fingers traced the inked lines on the image of Ridley’s
The apartment was quiet except for the sound of Matthew returning from the market, the soft rustling of bags as he set them down on the kitchen counter. He glanced at the clock—late afternoon already. It had been a few days since Masahiro’s injury, and although things had returned to a fragile sense of normalcy, there was still an unspoken tension in the air. That strange, unnamable thing that now seemed to hang between them after their last encounter.Matthew sighed, grabbing the bottle of pills from the counter and filling a glass of water. It was time for Masahiro’s medication again, a task he had taken on without much fuss, but with a growing sense of awkwardness. The last time he’d walked into Masahiro’s room, things had taken an unexpected turn, and though neither of them had spoken about it since, the weight of that moment still lingered.He walked down the hall, knocking briefly before pushing open the door."Time for your meds," he said, his voice carry
The next morning, the sunlight filtered through the blinds as Matthew made his way to Masahiro’s room, the routine already becoming familiar. He didn’t bother knocking this time, simply opened the door and entered."Time for your meds—"His voice trailed off as his eyes landed on Masahiro, sprawled on the bed with the sheets tangled around his legs. His face was twisted in concentration, and there was no mistaking what he was trying to do.For a moment, neither of them moved. Masahiro froze, his face flushing in both anger and embarrassment as he struggled to pull his hand away. But with one arm in a cast, he was clearly having difficulty.“What the hell, Smith?” Masahiro snapped, his voice echoing with a mix of shame and fury. He glanced down, humiliated, and tried to pull himself together, frantically covering himself with a pillow.Matthew smirked, leaning casually against the doorframe. "Hey, you could’ve ask
Masahiro blinked awake, his vision hazy and unfocused. A dull ache pulsed through his body, especially his side where the gunshot wound still lingered. His surroundings slowly came into view, and the first thing he saw was Matthew, sitting beside the bed, arms crossed, staring at him with his usual mix of irritation and worry. But then, as his eyes adjusted more, Masahiro noticed a second figure… a familiar one. Standing just behind Matthew, with wide, worried eyes, was his cousin Yumi. "Yumi…?" he croaked, his throat dry and raspy. He felt sluggish, like he’d been run over by a freight train. Before he could say anything more, Yumi sprang forward, throwing her arms around him with such force that he winced. "Masahiro! You idiot!" she exclaimed; her voice high-pitched with panic. "Why didn’t you tell me you got shot?! Are you crazy?! I’ve been working all day and I get a call saying you’ve passed out in your apartment?!" Her words hit him in a rap
Yumi pushed open the bedroom door and immediately went to Masahiro’s side. Matthew watched her with a quiet unease as she knelt down beside him, her eyes scanning his body with practiced precision.There was a tenderness in the way she touched him… checking his pulse, brushing his hair away from his face. Her hands moved with an efficiency and familiarity that Matthew could not ignore.“Is he...?” Matthew started, his voice almost a whisper.Yumi didn’t look at him as she worked. She didn’t need to. She knew what she was doing.“He’ll be fine,” she replied curtly, but her gaze lingered on Masahiro’s face, and there was something more there… something that Matthew couldn’t quite place. Was it concern? Or something deeper?She finally turned to him, her eyes narrowing. “Why are you here?”Matthew blinked, thrown off by the directness of the question. “I
Matthew stood frozen in place, his heart hammering in his chest as he stared down at Masahiro’s crumpled form. The man who always had his cool, who could outsmart and outmaneuver anyone, was now lying motionless, unconscious on the floor. His mind raced, thoughts tumbling over each other in frantic chaos.´What the hell am I doing? ´His stomach churned as he tried to suppress the rising tide of panic, but it surged anyway. Every time he tried to convince himself that it was nothing more than a drunken stumble, his eyes betrayed him… Masahiro’s pallor, his stillness, the way he hadn’t even made a sound when he collapsed, rattled him.´Focus, ´ Matthew ordered himself, gripping Masahiro’s body and lifting him up, adrenaline surging through him, making the task seem easier than it should have been. It was a strange contrast, the sharpness in his limbs despite the dizziness threatening to overpower him.
Matthew lounged on the couch in the living room, the flickering glow of the television illuminating his face as he scrolled through channels mindlessly.The sound of Masahiro´s door´s room creaking open drew his attention. Masahiro stepped out of his bedroom, and despite the cast encasing his right arm, he looked stunning. He wore a fitted black shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and trim waist, the fabric hugging his toned physique perfectly. The dark shirt was paired with dark blue slim-fit jeans that showcased his long legs and made him look effortlessly stylish. His black boots added an edge to the outfit, while a minimalist silver watch on his left wrist gleamed subtly against his skin. The overall effect was striking; he exuded an air of confidence that was impossible to ignore.Matthew raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “Where do you think you’re going?”Masahiro paused, casting a glance over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “That’s n