The hallways of the Umbra Division compound were unnaturally quiet. Ren's feet echoed off the cold concrete, but the silence wasn't just about sound—it was a feeling. Something underneath the skin. A pressure.
He kept walking. Past the dim yellow lights embedded in the ceiling, past the agents that gave nods but didn't meet his eyes. They all knew better. You didn't try small talk with Ren. He wasn't the type.
But today… even Ren felt it.
There was a chill in the air. One that had nothing to do with temperature.
Y.
That masked bastard had walked into the chamber of the Elders, insulted them to their faces, and then vanished without a trace. That shouldn't have been possible. Nothing about him should be possible.
Ren reached his room and closed the door behind him with a soft click. It was the only place in the entire compound that felt like it belonged to him. And even then, it felt like a storage unit. No personality. No warmth. Just a bed, a table, and a katana stand.
His katana—his only true companion—rested quietly by the far wall.
He let out a low breath. It was a thing he rarely did, but this time it slipped. Maybe exhaustion. Maybe instinct.
Because something was off.
He sensed it just as he looked up.
And there he was.
Perched inside the window frame like a ghost from hell, Y sat with one knee up, the other leg dangling freely, his black waraji sandals resting lightly on the windowsill.
The room seemed to bend around him. His outfit, that strange, elegant armor—black and navy with muted silver streaks—shimmered faintly under the flickering light. The jagged tails of his long jacket pooled like shadows.
His mask reflected nothing. No eyes. No mouth. Just darkness.
Ren's hand twitched. He instinctively moved to reach for his sword—only to realize…
The katana was closer to Y than to him.
Of course it was.
Y's voice came slow, calm, and chilling.
"If I wanted to kill you, Ren… you'd already be a memory."
Ren didn't respond. His stare was ice, but his mind was moving at lightning speed.
"You've got five seconds," Ren muttered coldly. "Then I break your spine."
"Feisty."
Y chuckled—softly, almost playfully. "But predictable. I said I came to talk."
"I don't talk to freaks in masks."
"I know." He tilted his head. "That's why I'm here. You don't talk… but you listen."
Ren didn't move. His muscles were coiled tight. But part of him knew—this was no ordinary assassin. If he wanted to kill Ren, he wouldn't have bothered with theatrics.
Still, Ren's tone was cold, razor-sharp.
"You're walking on Syndicate soil."
"Am I?" the man replied. "Funny… from up here, it just looks like dust."
Ren's face remained the same. "Say your piece before I gut you."
"You're smarter than that. Smarter than the others. I watched you in the chamber. Quiet, calculating. You're the only one who didn't try to prove something."
"And what the hell do you want?"
"Information. A conversation."
Ren narrowed his eyes. "I'm really gonna take my time killing you."
Another soft laugh.
"You remind me of someone. Cold. Efficient. Dangerous. But still tethered. You're not free yet."
"And you are?"
"I don't have a name. I don't need one. I'm not anyone. Just… a nobody."
Ren's eyes flicked to the katana again, but it was still out of reach. He hated this.
"Cut the cryptic shit," he snapped. "What the hell did you do to Hideo Takeda's daughter?"
There was silence. For a few seconds, Ren swore the air in the room got colder.
Then Y said, simply:
"I buried her last night."
Ren didn't flinch. He didn't blink.
He didn't care about the girl. But knowing Y had ended her without hesitation…
That told him exactly what kind of monster he was dealing with. A monster as cold as himself. Willing to kill even children to get the job done.
"I needed to know," Ren said flatly. "Now I do."
"Good. Then maybe we can stop pretending this conversation is about anything but opportunity."
Ren's stare was pure venom. "Opportunity?"
"There's a boy," Y said. "In a warehouse. About five clicks southeast of here. Not far. Alone. Right now. Go get him."
Ren scoffed. "What, you want me to play fetch for you? Go to hell."
Y didn't move.
"I won't say it twice. That boy… he's your only lead to knowing who I am. You want answers? You want to kill me? Then get him."
"And why the hell would you tell me that?"
"Because unlike the rest of your friends… I want a real game. Of course this remains between us, you could tell your little syndicate friends if you like but you know they're just gonna kill the boy, and then your back to square one."
"Go play somewhere else."
"If you don't get him tonight," Y said, "he dies by morning."
Ren's mind reeled. Why this boy? Why the offer? Was this a trap?
He hated being manipulated—but even more, he hated being left in the dark.
"And if I go," Ren said slowly, "what then? You watching me? Waiting for me to slip?"
"I already am."
Y stood up on the windowsill, his back to the moonlight. "But you won't slip. Not yet. That's why I chose you."
"And if I don't go?"
"Then you'll have no hope of defeating me."
Ren's voice was a growl. "Good."
Y paused, then gave a chuckle that echoed too long in the silence.
"You don't believe that."
And just like that—
He was gone.
No movement. No flash. No sound.
Just a cold breeze… and an empty window.
Ren stood still. His heartbeat had never changed—but his mind was on fire.
His fists were clenched. Jaw tight. He rarely cursed. But this time?
"Shit…"
He ran a hand down his face.
He didn't trust this. He didn't trust anything.
But if this masked killer really was the threat everyone feared—and if this boy really was the key to getting ahead of him—
Then Ren had no damn choice.
It wasn't about saving anyone. He didn't care about some nameless kid.
But he wanted to kill that masked bastard.
And for that… he'd go to the warehouse. The second he finds out the boy is useless he is going to kill him.