Three in the morning.

Neon signs blurred across every rain-soaked alley of the city. The top floor of the building housing the Syndicate headquarters was mostly dark, with only a faint light leaking through the gap of the office door at the end of the long hallway.

Toya was leaning against the window, looking down at the night streets where cigarette smoke dispersed. On his fingertips, where he had removed his black gloves and placed them on the desk, the scent of blood that hadn't yet cooled remained. He was scanning the records of the transactions handled today, but his gaze turned toward the hallway time and time again.

A moment later, the door opened quietly.

Akito entered, having returned through the rain. His black coat was soaked to the shoulders, and a thin wound trailed long beneath his shirt collar.

He set a manila envelope down on the desk and removed his gloves in silence. The metallic scent of blood and the damp smell of rain slowly filled the office.

Toya didn't move for a while. Then, he slowly walked toward Akito.

When the distance between the two was less than a step, he reached out and lightly traced the wound on the nape of Akito's neck. The moment his cold fingertips brushed the skin, the silence in the office grew heavier.

"You're hurt."