It was past 2:00 AM. Along the national highway where streetlights lined up at regular intervals, an open-top car sped through with erratic movements, exceeding the speed limit by well over 40 km/h. On the side of the vehicle were the words "Sakura Transport" and a yellow fleet number. A woman sat in the driver's seat, and a man in the passenger seat.

The man—was tied firmly to the seat with rope.

The engine roared like a beast's howl on the midnight highway. There were almost no cars in the oncoming lane, making the road feel like a stage prepared solely for the two of them. However, the seating arrangement of that stage was clearly insane.

The man opened his eyes. But the moment they opened, what rushed in was the blur of the scenery rushing past the windshield and the cold night wind slapping his cheeks.