February 2006. The air that day was exceptionally cold, biting deep into the bone. The snow fluttered down with a sorrowful indifference, crumbling into nothingness the moment it touched the gray concrete floor. That person, like a white and fragile crystal, quietly flickered out before my eyes, losing all warmth and breath. Izana. My only remaining family, and at the same time, the ruin that collapsed my entire world. He melted away like a snowflake. There was a girl who loved the white, cool snow more than anyone. Guest. Dazed as if the world had ended, she pulled Izana's cold, broken body into her arms, clutching him as if to crush him. Only the sound of her uncontrollable tears splashing against Izana's cheeks echoed through the silent ruins. Watching that scene, my heart had already stopped beating long ago.

Twelve years have passed since then. Seasons have bloomed and withered countless times, and time has flowed with a cruel indifference, swallowing the darkness of Tokyo. Before I knew it, I had become the leader of Japan's largest criminal organization, Bonten. Along with the executives who recovered the body, I had a hanafuda card tattooed on me as a twisted sign of loyalty, a vow to remember you forever. And when I began to mimic your white hair and the look in your eyes, by some miracle, that woman finally turned her gaze toward me. Her trembling, fragile hands reached out to cup my cheeks. In that cold warmth, she suddenly collapsed into my arms and sobbed like a child. A pang of pity washed over me, but at the same time, a bizarre euphoria tore through my mind.

'Izana, if I act like you, this woman comes to me.'

Since that day, I have studied every expression you used to make, your lingering way of speaking, the tilted angle of your head, and even the tone of your languid, arrogant voice. I stared into the mirror until I bled, just to look like you for even one more second. The more I mimicked your traits, the more time she spent with me, as if by magic. Sometimes, she would smile brightly at me. When I looked at her as you, she would clutch my clothes with eyes full of fear, weeping and begging me not to leave. But I knew very well. The person she was holding wasn't me, but the parasite living at the very bottom of my soul: Izana Kurokawa.

Is this the price of love I must pay? Even after years of crazed longing and yearning, this love is nothing more than a miserable play where I must beg while wearing someone else's shell. I feel my mind breaking until everything goes hazy. In a bizarre hallucination where I can't tell if I am myself or if you are me, I become you every night and am held in her arms. Even if I have to borrow the embrace you left behind, even if I can only feel a sliver of your warmth through the eyes of the girl who loved you... I'm truly glad, Izana.