In the cool, dim light of the police precinct’s entrance, Tomoya felt his nerves on edge, the weight of his recent discovery bearing down on him. The information he’d unearthed in the police database had made it painfully clear—Jess was no ordinary woman, and her connection to the Takahashi case was undeniable.
Though his heart raced with the excitement of finally untangling some of the puzzle, his mind buzzed with the complications this revelation brought.
He was drawn here, to this place, by an undeniable urge to confront Jess, yet as he crossed the threshold, he saw no familiar faces among the precinct’s busy, bustling crowd. No sign of Zach, Esmeralda, or anyone else he’d anticipated seeing.
It was strange, but he felt a pull towards Dryzza, the detective whose skill had uncovered pivotal elements of the Takahashi case.
Her name had popped up so often in his search that he felt almost as though he knew her—though not a face in the precinct was familiar to him. He hadn’t truly planned to approach her today, not without a clearer purpose, yet a gnawing sensation inside him urged him to meet this woman who had the audacity to tread the dangerous path he knew so well.
A part of him wanted to see if she held the same relentless determination he once did, even though he knew that curiosity could lead him into the very spotlight he sought to avoid.
Just as he turned to leave, he felt the unsettling presence of someone’s gaze on him. He froze as Valentine, a tall, stoic officer, approached him with a piercing intensity that left no room for escape. Valentine had a reputation—Tomoya had read up on every officer affiliated with Zach’s department since his return to the city.
This man was known for tracking down critical information on every case his team handled, especially those tied to the Takahashi case. Instantly, Tomoya’s discomfort turned into dread; Valentine’s eyes held a distinct recognition, and Tomoya knew he wouldn’t be allowed to simply walk away.
“How may I help you, Mister Tomoya?” Valentine’s voice was calm, respectful, but there was no mistaking the suspicion in his gaze.
Tomoya fought to keep his composure, concealing the anxiety that throbbed beneath his practiced smile.
Thinking quickly, he met Valentine’s gaze, choosing his words carefully. “I’m here for a friend,” he began, forcing a nonchalant tone. “I believe she was brought here for questioning. Just wanted to check in.”
Valentine’s brow furrowed, his face unreadable. “A friend?” he echoed with a slight tilt of his head, his voice tinged with skepticism. Tomoya felt the weight of Valentine’s gaze dig into him, dissecting every aspect of his appearance, his intent.
It was as though Valentine were seeing through him, peeling back his words in search of an ulterior motive. “And, who might this friend be?” The officer’s gaze felt intimidating, sharp and unwavering, and Tomoya’s confidence began to waver under the scrutiny.
“Jess,” he replied, struggling to keep his voice even, yet polite, and forced a small, measured smile. “Jessica Moore?” The tension between them was palpable.
Valentine snapped his fingers in recognition. “Oh, the pregnant lady.” A smirk played across his lips as he folded his arms over his chest. “They just started questioning her,” he continued, his eyes watching Tomoya intently. “You’re welcome to wait here or come back later, up to you.”
Tomoya let out a forced chuckle, nodding as he began to turn away, hoping to end the exchange gracefully. “In that case, I’ll come back later. Thanks for letting me know.”
He offered a polite bow, inching his way back toward the door, his heart pounding as he fought the urge to make a hasty exit. But just as he was about to step out, a voice called Valentine from across the room. Against his better judgment, Tomoya glanced back, and his breath caught in his throat as he recognized the figure stepping out of an office.
“Valentine, can you send me the records on Jessica Moore?” a small, confident voice called out.
Tomoya’s eyes widened in shock, freezing as he watched Dryzza emerge, waving a white folder in the air. She was petite, her frame nearly hidden by the thick, dark hair cascading around her face in a stylish, long wolf cut.
A soft fringe framed her large, intelligent eyes, giving her an air of innocence that belied the determination he knew she must possess. Though she stood at barely 4’11”, she carried herself with a calm self-assuredness, a presence he recognized all too well from another time—one that had haunted him since the day they met.
It hit him like a bolt of lightning. Dryzza looked uncannily like the woman from his past, the time-traveler he’d encountered long ago. Every feature was a vivid reminder of that unforgettable encounter: the same sharp gaze, the same silken black hair, the same undeniable resolve in her stance.
He blinked, feeling his heart pound harder as memories flooded his mind, blending with the present until he could scarcely separate them. How many times had he replayed that meeting in his mind? And now, the resemblance was so clear, it was as if she’d stepped from his past to stand before him.
A chill ran through his nerves as he struggled to regain his focus, his eyes narrowing as he watched her carefully.
Could she be the same woman? Could time have twisted once more, leading her back to him? If she was that woman, if fate had somehow allowed their paths to cross again, what was her purpose here?
He felt his grip tighten on the door handle as he debated whether to approach her, the impulse to solve the mystery consuming him as he weighed the risks of exposing himself.
Tomoya felt a sharp intake of breath when Dryzza’s eyes shifted his way, standing near Valentine. He froze, willing himself to appear as inconspicuous as possible, but his heart hammered in his chest.
He had come here with an impulse he could barely justify to himself, driven by curiosity and a strange sense of fate, yet now that he stood face-to-face with the woman he once met in the fog of time, his mind went blank. He studied her expression, searching for the faintest glimmer of familiarity—some subtle spark in her eyes or a shift in her stance that would confirm his suspicions.
But her gaze was indifferent, almost cold; it held no recognition, no intrigue. Dryzza looked at him with the same detached professionalism she’d likely reserve for a stranger or an unremarkable case file.
Her glance was fleeting, barely more than a passing acknowledgment, and she quickly turned back to Valentine, dismissing Tomoya as though he were nothing more than an unexpected bystander.
It was as if she hadn’t noticed him at all—or, if she did, he was entirely unremarkable. This had to be the same woman, he thought. The uncanny resemblance, the unshakable aura she possessed—it all pointed to her.
But her reaction was unphased, utterly indifferent. Perhaps he was mistaken after all. His thoughts tangled with memories as he struggled to reconcile the face before him with the one that haunted his past.
She continued to speak with Valentine, her voice low and chiding as she reprimanded him for delaying the updated file on Jessica Moore. Her small frame contrasted starkly with the authority in her voice, a soft but firm command that underscored her presence.
Tomoya couldn’t help but glance down at her; from his height, she seemed almost miniature, and yet he felt her presence as if she were towering. It was as if she were a shadow of the woman he remembered, or perhaps a distorted reflection of someone he once knew.
As Dryzza spoke, she sensed Tomoya’s lingering gaze and turned her attention toward him, meeting his eyes with a calm but firm demeanor.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone both polite and authoritative, as if to remind him that he was standing in her professional domain.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, not with recognition, but with the curiosity of someone sizing up a stranger. Her question carried a weight that made Tomoya feel exposed, as if he were being scrutinized, dissected under an invisible lens.
The silence lingered, and for a moment, Tomoya felt as if he’d been cornered. Words failed him, leaving him caught in an uncomfortable limbo between his curiosity and the undeniable absurdity of his situation. He felt Valentine’s presence beside him, and the officer spoke up to fill the awkward void.
“He’s here for Jessica Moore,” Valentine said, his tone nonchalant, yet there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes as well. Valentine had noted Tomoya’s involvement with the Takahashi case; this connection intrigued him, and his interest was subtly piqued.
Dryzza’s brow rose at the mention of Jessica’s name, and her gaze sharpened, shifting from polite disinterest to calculated scrutiny. She knew Tomoya was connected to the Takahashi family, to Takumi specifically, and the entangled histories of those involved in that tragic day.
For some interesting reason, he also somehow got involved with Samantha—a phenomenon quite funny for Dryzza.
“Why are you here for her?” she asked, her tone suddenly edged with suspicion. It was a question that demanded more than just a casual answer.
Dryzza specifically wanted to know if Tomoya had already recognized Jess—the Jess from his past, not the Jess involved in a little love triangle.
Tomoya’s mind raced, and his chest tightened under the pressure. He felt as if he were unraveling beneath her gaze, each of his thoughts torn between his past and his present intentions.
How could he explain his connection to Jess without revealing the tangled web of relationships that bound him to Samantha, Scott, Takumi, and now even Jess?
If he claimed to be here as Jess’ friend, it would raise more questions than answers. His connection to Samantha was already a tenuous thread, one that linked him to painful memories and unresolved conflicts. His loyalty was clear, but now he risked complicating matters further, and the implications of a misstep felt dire.
It felt almost like a twisted comedy, a tragic spectacle that had bound their lives into a tragicomic farce. The irony of it all twisted his stomach, and the words he needed refused to come. Desperation clawed at him as he struggled for a plausible explanation, yet everything he thought of only sounded like a flimsy pretense.
Before he could formulate a response, someone called for Dryzza’s attention, snapping her focus away. For an instant, Tomoya felt a rush of relief. She turned, her eyes briefly lingering on him, as though sizing him up one last time before brushing him off.
He took the opportunity and nodded curtly, bowing slightly as if in parting. With a final glance at Valentine, he turned and hurried out of the precinct, resisting the urge to look back. The moment he crossed the threshold, he broke into a sprint toward his car, the urgency of escape propelling him forward.
He barely managed to regain his composure, his heart pounding as he unlocked the door and slipped inside, breathing a sigh of relief once he was safely hidden from view.
Tomoya returned to his condo in a quiet haze, his mind tangled with questions that gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. With Takumi out running errands, he had the rare solitude he needed to make sense of the day’s strange revelations.
As he eased into his couch, he couldn't help but feel the weight of everything. Despite all he’d learned, something still felt disturbingly off, a nagging sense that a deeper, supernatural force was orchestrating the events around him. That sensation of otherworldly influence had haunted him for weeks now, but tonight, it felt more palpable, like a shadow he could almost reach out and touch.
The room fell into a chilling silence, thickening the air as Tomoya’s thoughts grew heavier. Just as he was beginning to lose himself in his recollections, the atmosphere shifted.
Shadows curled and thickened in the corners of the room, condensing until a figure began to materialize within them. There, in a shimmer of darkness, emerged Rener—the demon whose presence was both familiar and unsettling. His entry was unnervingly smooth, his figure a melding of elegance and darkness.
As the shadows dissipated, they left behind a figure with a face carved in a perfection too sharp and unnerving to be human, his gaze holding a light that was somehow both angelic and sinister.
Tomoya chuckled, masking his instinctual unease. “Ah, just who I needed,” he quipped, gesturing to the chair opposite him. Despite the strange circumstances, his nonchalance clashed oddly with the room’s sinister stillness.