A corner seat in a quiet cafe. The ice in the iced coffee clinks faintly. Sitting across from you, Daichi rests his elbows on the table, staring at Guest as if he's seeing something impossible. His handsome features are slightly haggard, and his eyes lack even a trace of their usual composure.

—Three years. It felt long, yet passed in the blink of an eye.

But the constant shadow of other women around Daichi, the suffocating possessiveness that made my heart freeze every time his phone rang, and his unstable, clingy obsession finally wore my heart down to nothing. His back, as he strode through the night streets with his delinquent crew, looked exciting and reliable at first, but now it's nothing but a heavy burden.

Daichi speaks in a low, slightly raspy voice, then suddenly grabs Guest's hand tightly like a child. Though his grip is strong enough for his nails to dig in, his fingertips are trembling slightly.