Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Gen spun around in his chair, trying to get his intellect to work well enough to give a reasonably sound answer. The movement was supposed to help his ideas flow, but it didn't seem to be working. He kept spinning until he stopped at the sound of his co-star entering—a tall, broad-shouldered man who had to duck to get through the dressing room door, earning a mocking smile from Gen.

"Hey, dear Tsukasa," Gen sang as he slid along with his chair toward his friend.

The man grunted.

"If you were in a post-apocalyptic society starting from scratch, do you think the concept of morality would be an inevitable construction or a circumstantial choice based on evolutionary needs?"

Tsukasa's movements stopped, and he looked at Gen with a serious expression of disbelief. "What kind of question is that?"

"I'm trying to help a guy with his applied philosophy homework," Gen raised his phone to show Tsukasa the conversation, still very confused.

"You don't even have his number saved. Who is he?"

"No idea, he said he messaged me randomly."

Gen read the question again.

"And if I tell him to use chat GPT?"

Tsukasa scoffed. "First, I don't think he'd accept that, because if not, he wouldn't have messaged you for help. Second, please block that number immediately."

Gen pouted, pretending to be hurt. "Why? It's my act of kindness for the year."

Tsukasa sighed. "It's a stranger who somehow got your number, who knows, it could be some crazy fan trying to get information from you to expose you on social media."

"I'm impressed by how quickly you’re learning about the fame world, dear Tsukasa," Gen looked at his now-turned-off phone with pity.

"So, take my advice," Tsukasa seemed to have finished getting ready and bent down again to leave the room. Gen watched him go before stopping halfway. "By the way, Gen?"

"Yes, dear Tsukasa?"

"In a reborn world, morality shouldn't arise from a choice. It should arise from the purity of human nature, free from materialistic and selfish influences. Morality reflects the true essence of man, who must protect the innocent and live in harmony with nature."

"Wow..." Gen whistled. "I'll tell him that. Can you repeat it?"

"What!? No! Block him now!"

Actually, he had gotten Tsukasa to repeat his speech once more and took the opportunity to record it.

"Dear Tsukasa! Are you free?!"

"No," the man didn't even bother to look at him.

"But it’s a philosophical emergency! It's only... forty-nine more answers!"

"Not a chance."

Gen dramatically slumped over his desk as his phone vibrated with another message from Senku.

"I'm going to need therapy after this," Gen whined before starting to type furiously on his phone.

"Impressive," Gen murmured while turning in his bed. What he had to do was simple: press the three dots next to the unknown number and then press the block option.

He wasn’t used to sharing his personal number, so he had never blocked anyone, which meant he had no idea if it was an immediate option or if he had to authorize the choice, but he wasn’t in the mood to figure that out.

He could just keep chatting with the stranger, and as long as he didn’t share any important information, everything would be fine.

But, oh, he just told the guy where he lives.

Yeah, maybe fulfilling that part would be harder...

He hesitated for a moment before responding, but in the end, he sent the message after checking the time: 01:08 AM. Good. It was late, and the guy probably wouldn’t respond until the morning.

Don’t respond, don’t respond.

His phone lit up.

Damn.

What the hell is he doing awake so late?!

Well, now technically he felt obligated to respond.

Gen looked at the message and hesitated whether to ignore it or play along with the smart stranger. Tsukasa would probably scold him the whole week just for responding to the first message, and by now even his manager must be aware.

His gaze shifted back to the three stupid dots and he pressed them quickly, the options bar appeared, and there it was: ‘block’. So simple, so ridiculously easy, it wouldn’t even take a couple of seconds.

But he couldn’t.

It was the first time in a long while that he felt like he could talk to someone without the extra pressure of fame on him. He didn’t have to control his words, there was no reason to avoid questions, and besides being sincere, he could be rude. As rude as he wanted, and no one would be canceling him on social media the next day.

Another notification came to his phone, and Gen opened it as quickly as it lit up.

Well, maybe I could look him up on social media later, Senku isn’t a very common name.

Damn, that. If he wanted to keep talking to Senku, this kind of question, and even more personal ones, would come up.

Think, Gen, think, someone whose name you know well enough to pass yourself off as them and whose name would be impossible to find online. Also, you had sent several voice messages with Tsukasa’s voice, so it had to be someone with a similar voice...

Of course!

The name of one of his bodyguards was perfect. That guy is so dull he’s probably never touched a cellphone in his life, and finding any trace of him online is impossible.

HA!

Rehearsing for my show tomorrow. But he couldn’t say that.

It’s not a lie, technically he had one of his favorite dramas playing in the background.

Gen was about to reply before his phone was snatched from his hands. He tried to reach for it, but the person who took it took a few quick steps back, avoiding Gen. In his desperate attempt to recover it, Gen fell to the floor, causing it to hit the ground with a loud thud.

“Damn!”

“Are you this rude at this time in the morning?” Ukyo laughed, watching the screen of his phone carefully, making a mocking grimace as he read the messages unfolding on the screen. “So Tsukasa was telling the truth. Do you know how dangerous this is, Gen?”

“Give me that” Gen growled, getting up with difficulty. “It’s private!”

Gen took advantage of the guy’s distraction to snatch the phone back, but he didn’t even have a chance, as his opponent was a damn submarine strategist. Ukyo raised the phone above both of their heads, reading the messages aloud.

“Whoa, dear Senku seems to be quite smart, calculating his chances of running into him in less than a couple of minutes. Isn’t that romantic, Tsukasa?”

“Tsukasa isn’t even…shit”

The dressing room door opened, revealing the fighter, who at least seemed pretty embarrassed to be caught spying on the conversation. The man entered with his usual difficulty and made his way to one of the chairs without looking at them, sitting in one of Gen’s chairs, which seemed to creak under his weight, and sighed.

“I told Gen to block him”

“You were spying!”

“No, I wasn’t, I accidentally overheard part of his conversation because I happened to be heading this way”

Ukyo mocked him. “You never visit Gen in the mornings”

“Exactly!”

“Why are you supporting him?!” Tsukasa was now blushing.

Gen stuck his tongue out like a child, receiving a pleasant gesture with the middle finger.

Ukyo stepped between them. “Though I like you better, at least Tsukasa is right.” Ukyo handed him his phone. “You should block him, Kinro”

“Are you using your bodyguard’s name?!!”

Chapter Text

Senku Takana. Profile picture: a gym selfie. Impossible.

Senku Yamamoto. His bio says: “God’s timing is perfect.” Honestly, Senku is the most atheist person in the universe. Not a chance.

Senju Ishigami. No profile picture or bio, but a single post of what seems to be a Doraemon movie cover. Probably some kid. Discarded.

Gen tossed his phone onto the desk after his extensive research. Nothing. Just as he imagined, that guy was a nerd who didn’t even seem to have social media.

Just in case, he also searched for Kinro and felt proud when he found nothing. His bodyguard didn’t seem to exist in the digital world either. That, at least, would prevent problems for now.

He just had to make sure not to use his phone at work and avoid his coworkers’ awkward questions—difficult, considering he spent most of the day holed up in his dressing room, where they both frequently roamed.

It had already been a couple of weeks chatting with Senku, and it was incredible. The scientist had a peculiar sense of humor that perfectly matched Gen’s sharp sarcasm. Plus, he seemed to have the rare ability not to take anything too seriously, which only made the conversations flow like never before for Gen. It made the magician unable to resist checking every notification for a message.

As if on cue or some sort of sign, his phone lit up and the familiar notification tone chimed. Gen jumped in his seat, lunging for it.

Please let it be him. Please let him have replied. I swear if he left me on read again…

It was Senku.

Gen glanced around, ensuring the coast was clear. Ukyo should be setting up the sound equipment for his next show, and Tsukasa was still filming that energy drink commercial he swore he wouldn’t drink even if he were stranded in a desert on the brink of dehydration. His words, by the way.

Perfect.

He smiled, unlocking his phone and opening the chat. What kind of madness, interesting fact, or scientific question did he have for him now? Gen couldn’t deny he was excited.

Well, that’s not what he expected.

Magician?

Senku’s next message was, in fact, what Gen was dreading: a quick screenshot of three tickets to one of his shows. That very evening. The one Gen was currently getting his makeup done for.

Does this universe not hate him enough already?!

Calm down, Gen. Senku doesn’t know it’s you.

Which is the worst part because Senku’s about to be in his audience and won’t even recognize him. And he can’t convince him not to go now that the tickets are already bought—not that they were cheap anyway.

Where do a bunch of teenage boys get that kind of money?

Ouch. He didn’t even write that book. His producer forced him to hire a ghostwriter to publish it for more views.

Honestly, he wanted to burn some copies too.

Not a bad idea for a first date.

Because, oh, you sure as hell will.

“What do you want to do?!”

“That fire trick,” Gen answered with a smile, shoving his hands into his coat because he wasn’t about to admit it made him nervous. It could be revolutionary or a disaster waiting to happen.

His manager blinked, stunned, opened and closed his mouth a couple of times as if looking for an answer, and when he gathered the courage to speak, Gen interrupted him mercilessly.

“I think it’s an excellent trick, we’ll attract more people, and by tomorrow I’ll be on the front pages of all the news, right? Isn’t that good for us?” The question wasn’t directed at his manager but at his producer, an overly enthusiastic man who seemed to be glowing after hearing the proposal.

“It’s amazing!” He exclaimed. “I thought you said you’d never do this on a show!”

That’s exactly what he said. But he needs to surprise a teenager with a higher IQ and he doesn’t plan on disappointing. Desperate times, desperate measures.

His manager shook his head emphatically. “You haven’t prepared it enough. The last time you did it, it was a complete disaster.”

“But I’ve been practicing on my own,” Gen dramatically sobbed with sparkling eyes. “I’m sure it’ll work out!”

The producer, completely unaware of the danger, was already taking excited notes. “We can add visual effects like smoke to make the flames look more intense. It’s going to be epic.”

“More intense? We haven’t even controlled the normal ones!” The manager turned pale. “And you, Gen! Do you realize your show is in less than three hours?!”

“Nothing better than showing the potential of your team,” Gen winked mockingly. “So…” He turned to the poor producer who seemed to be floating with excitement. “Can you do it?”

“Of course!”

“Wait, both of you.” The manager stepped in, frowning. “You, do what Gen says… those are his consequences. And you,” he added, grabbing Gen by the arm, “follow me.”

Gen obeyed, knowing that now more than ever it was wise to comply. The man led him through the familiar hallways to the break room, pulled a cigarette box from his pockets offering one to Gen, who quickly declined.

Knowing the man wouldn’t start the conversation, Gen spoke. “Do you have a list of who bought the VIP seats?”

“Obviously not,” His manager took a drag of his cigarette and Gen avoided grimacing from the smell. “What’s wrong with you today, kid? You seem really determined to impress someone.”

Gen let out a nervous laugh. “Have you ever thought about becoming a mentalist? You seem good at it.”

“Is it about that guy from the messages?”

Gen froze. “What? How do you…?”

Another drag, the man inhaled harder this time. “I understand why you’re doing this, you’ve been in the entertainment world since you were young. You’ve never allowed yourself to have a real friend. Did you invite him to the show?”

“No… I didn’t. It was a coincidence.” He needed to change the subject; this was getting personal.

The manager crushed the cigarette in the ashtray forcefully. “I won’t criticize you for forming relationships. But be careful. Don’t reveal too much information, and above all, don’t do stupid things like today.” He looked at him sternly. “I’ll let it slide this time, but if you put your life and career at risk again just to impress someone, I’ll cancel all your shows myself. Because that tells me a lot about you. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” The man patted him on the shoulder. “Make it a great show.” And he walked out of the room.

Gen stood there, not quite sure how to react. The idea of the fire trick had been nothing more than a whim that he knew he shouldn’t have asked for, and now he had no way to back out.

And, as if fate was determined to complicate things further, his phone vibrated.

Saying the theater was full is an understatement.

It was packed.

“You said you didn’t have a list, but do you even know how many people are here?” Gen asked, pretending to stay calm.

“Let me give you the good news,” His manager adjusted his tie with satisfaction. “All the tickets have been sold.”

The answer triggered two emotions in Gen:

The first was joy. Because, damn, the entire theater was packed just to see him!

The second was disappointment. His plan had been to scan the audience to find the scientist, and now that would complicate the search for Senku.

“I see. That’s exciting! I think we should shoot more footage of the audience.”

“Don’t think I don’t know where you’re trying to go,” The man looked at him seriously. “We’ll record as much as we can, but don’t expect to find your guy there.”

“I already know that—”

“And above all,” His manager stopped him by grabbing his shoulder firmly. “Don’t get distracted, Gen. A small mistake and you’ll be ruined.”

Gen smiled with the theatrical confidence he always had. “Don’t worry, dear. You just focus on enjoying the show.”

The manager sighed, clearly unconvinced, but eventually released his shoulder. “You’d better.”

Gen watched him walk away as his smile slowly faded. He needed to calm down. Senku was here, yes, but that didn’t mean he should lose control.

He took a deep breath and adjusted the edge of his jacket. If he was going to perform this show with a scientific genius watching, then he would make it unforgettable.

Without further ado, he headed to the stage, letting the applause and praise envelop him. Each step he took increased the electricity in the air.

The audience was eager, expectant, and Gen couldn’t disappoint them. It was his stage, his moment. A radiant smile curved his lips as he raised his arms in a grand gesture.

“Welcome, dear friends! Tonight, I won’t just show you magic… I’ll prove that the impossible only exists in our minds.” With an elegant movement, he let the doves carefully hidden in his sleeves escape. The birds flew in circles above the stage, earning a moderate applause from the audience. Some spectators barely clapped with indifference, waiting for something more impressive.

Gen knew this. And he was ready to give it to them.

“I think those are very few doves, don’t you think?”

An affirmative murmur spread through the room.

Gen smiled, extending his arms, fully aware of the process. The lights dimmed and behind him, a curtain of smoke began to cover the floor. From the ceiling, a black cloth slowly descended, softly covering the stage, enveloping the center in a veil of mystery.

With a dramatic move, Gen lifted the cloth.

For those who had seen nothing before, now there appeared a grand structure: a golden, shiny, and majestic cage with several doves perched elegantly inside, as if they had always been there.

Just as subtly as before, Gen pulled the key from his sleeve with a slight flick of his wrist and freed the doves. The hall then, yes, was filled with applause and exclamations of surprise.

Gen smiled, looking at the audience, Senku was there somewhere, applauding like everyone else, and Gen hoped that now he would eat his words, and oh, what awaited him.

Gen smiled as he scanned the audience, knowing that in some corner of that crowd, Senku was there. Applauding like everyone else.

But Gen could only think of one thing: Eat your words, dear Senku… this is just the beginning.

Because if they thought the best had already passed, they were very wrong. The real show was about to begin.

Chapter Text

"I can't believe we're actually going to see him."

A very excited Yuzuriha held up the tickets in front of them. As expected, she was the one responsible for carrying them. Taiju would probably lose them, and if she gave them to Senku… well, he already had at least seven different strategies to get rid of them without anyone blaming him.

So Yuzuriha snatched them away as soon as she sent a picture to Kinro, just before Senku could "accidentally" drop them into the puddle at his feet.

Damn it. No escape.

"This is going to be amazing!" Taiju bounced beside him excitedly. "I'm sure even Senku is going to like it."

"Don't get your hopes up, big guy," Senku absentmindedly scratched his ear. "I'm only going to expose that fraud."

"You shouldn’t be so harsh," Taiju complained. "That guy must hear that kind of comment every day."

"That’s true," Yuzuriha chimed in while handing the tickets to the poor man in the booth, who looked like he was suffocating in his tuxedo. "Let’s just focus on enjoying the show. Besides, we should take advantage of the fact that Senku won’t be able to use his phone." She giggled mischievously, which was unusual for her. Yuzuriha was probably the sweetest person on the planet.

Taiju caught the joke and burst into laughter. "Oh, that's right. You won't be able to text that Kinro guy for two whole hours. You even warned him. That’s kind of sweet." The big guy nudged Senku with a teasing grin.

"Shut up, both of you," Senku muttered, stepping into the theater while the two idiots followed him, still laughing.

The place was elegant, though modest compared to the grand arenas Senku was used to. Ever since his father married Lilian, he hadn't missed a single one of her concerts and dragged Senku along whenever possible. So this was a nice change of pace.

What stood out the most was the stage: broad, with a majestic purple velvet curtain. Above, a series of strategically placed lights played with shadows and bright flashes, heightening the sense of illusion.

Everything about the theater reinforced the feeling of being in a historic venue, where countless artists had performed their greatest acts. But tonight, all eyes would be on the center of the stage, where Gen would perform his show. Tonight, the stage belonged to him alone.

Senku might have been a little excited.

They didn’t have to wait long. As soon as they settled into their seats, the lights flickered and shifted, all converging on the center of the room, where no one had been a moment ago. Now, the illusionist magician stood there, greeting the audience.

Yuzuriha gasped in surprise, and Taiju practically yelled. Senku pretended not to notice the way Gen avoided the lit areas to blend into the center.

"Welcome, dear friends! Tonight, I won’t just show you magic... I’ll prove that the impossible exists only in our minds." With an exaggerated flick of his wrist, birds hidden within his coat flew in circles above the stage. The audience clapped, but even Yuzuriha seemed to expect more.

Then, everything escalated.

First, a giant cage. Simple. A structure camouflaged against the stage background was deployed using a system of sliding pulleys. The lighting and Gen’s theatrics played a crucial role in distracting the audience from the exact moment the structure appeared.

Then, the magician brought out two mirrors—one positioned center stage, the other in a corner. Senku didn’t waste the opportunity to joke about the guy’s narcissism before falling silent as he watched him pass through the mirror. First his arm. Then his entire body.

The audience gasped. The assistants rotated the mirror to show that there were no tricks or hidden doors. Everything seemed solid. After a few seconds of suspense, Gen reappeared from another mirror at the opposite end of the stage.

Damn mentalist.

Senku had to think for a moment. A few simpler tricks followed, but he was still stuck trying to figure out the mirror trick. It wasn’t until the guy reappeared again that Senku noticed something.

He could start his investigation.

First, the mirror’s base: It wasn’t directly on the floor but slightly elevated. That suggested a possible mechanism underneath.

Second, the reflection. Gen was perfectly mirrored… too perfectly. Something about the angle of the light seemed off, like there was a slight desynchronization between Gen’s image and the real Gen.

Third, the structure behind. The assistants turned the mirror around to show there were no tricks, but they did it too quickly, as if they wanted to prevent the audience from looking too closely.

So, the conclusion was this:

The mirror wasn’t a real mirror, but two semi-transparent glass panels placed at strategic angles. The "reflection" everyone saw wasn’t Gen but a projection or a perfectly synchronized double.

The real Gen had used a hidden opening in the floor or the side of the mirror to slip out of the audience’s view. Then, while the assistants distracted everyone, he took the opportunity to emerge from the other mirror, reinforcing the illusion that he had stepped through another dimension.

Alright, Senku had to admit it—it was a clever trick.

"That was amazing!" Yuzuriha applauded the last trick performed.

"How did he do it? Do you think he's a real magician?" Taiju asked, even more excited.

Only then did Senku realize that he had missed a good part of the show, lost in his analysis. On stage, the assistants were already rearranging the set, and the lights dimmed, focusing once again on the center. Gen had disappeared.

What is he planning to do now?

"I want to know too," Yuzuriha interrupted his thoughts. "How did he do that trick?"

For the first time, Senku didn't know what to answer.

"I didn’t see it."

The disappointment on his friends' faces made his chest tighten.

"It's not that I wasn’t paying attention… I was focused on something else," he justified himself.

"Oh…" Taiju smiled, though there was a hint of understanding in his voice. "It's okay. We know you came because we asked you to. You don't have to pretend you like it."

Yuzuriha nodded.

Senku frowned. "That's not…"

The speakers interrupted Senku with an explosion of thrilling music. His gaze turned to the stage, where everything was ready.

Gen had returned.

This time, he wore a purple suit with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his slender arms. Underneath, a white shirt and a golden chain, probably made of gold.

Senku is not going to admit that it looks good on him.

Gen extended his arms in a fluid motion, as if calling for the attention of everyone in the room. His purple jacket gleamed under the spotlights as he stepped forward and smiled confidently.

"For this trick, I’ll need a little heat," he announced.

An assistant approached, holding a silver tray with several torches resting on it. Gen thanked him and picked one up, raising it for the audience to see. His other hand lifted, and with a single snap, the flame came to life at the tip of the torch, dancing dangerously at his fingertips.

That obviously works with some kind of ignition mechanism in the torch.

The magician then began playing with the torch, spinning it in the air, passing it from one hand to the other with unsettling precision, and each time, it landed perfectly in his hand with an elegant motion.

"Fire is fickle, you know?" he said with a sly smile. "If you treat it with respect, it can be your ally. But if you underestimate it…"

He brought the burning torch to his mouth and, in an instant, blew forcefully. A column of bright fire burst from his lips, illuminating the entire stage. It was so sudden that even the most skeptical members of the audience flinched.

Senku, sitting in one of the closest areas to the stage, could swear he felt the heat pass through his body.

Gen let the still-burning torch fall onto a metal stand and, without pausing, extended both hands. At that moment, as if the flame itself obeyed his will, a ring of blue fire appeared between his palms, floating above them.

Optical illusion, Senku thought, closely observing Gen’s every movement.

In fact…

Oh.

It’s a trick that works with science.

It's not complicated to understand, but it is difficult to execute. The column of fire must have been created with some liquid fuel, like liquid paraffin or lamp oil, which isn't as volatile as gasoline.

The magician had to fill his mouth with a small amount of the liquid (and hide it from the audience, considering he had been speaking before starting the trick) and expel it as a fine mist toward a lit torch, causing the large flame burst.

The ring of fire is also simple. Gen raised his hands, and although it seemed like they were open, the truth is that his fingers were holding a thin ring. Here, Senku admits he’s speculating, but it could be made of titanium wire coated with a flammable substance, like methanol mixed with copper salts (which would give it the bluish glow).

It’s a spectacle that, in essence, the audience has seen before: fire, skill, controlled danger. But for Gen, it's completely new. It’s not just another trick in his repertoire, but a demonstration of what he is capable of.

He doesn’t want to limit himself to deceiving the audience with elaborate illusions or hidden mechanisms. Not this time. He wants them to see, to understand that the impossible can become real if one has enough skill. He wants to amaze them, not with a trick, but with his own mastery of fire.

The flames dance between his hands with calculated precision. A fluid movement, a subtle gesture, and the fire seems to respond to him as if it were an extension of his body. In one moment, a small spark. In the next, a blaze that twists and splits into brilliant shapes in the air before vanishing into nothingness.

Well done, mentalist.

Gen tossed the ring of fire upward. The light reflected in his golden eyes made him look more like a sorcerer than a mere mentalist. When the flame fell back down, Gen caught it and, with a swift movement, closed his hand over it.

The fire disappeared.

The audience erupted into applause and cheers.

Gen, with an exaggerated bow, raised one hand into the air, signaling the grand finale. And while everyone was still busy praising him, Senku noticed something that didn’t seem right.

His other hand was on fire.

It wasn’t a torch. It wasn’t an inflammable object.

It was his own palm burning.

A flame covered his arm up to the elbow. Anyone would think it was part of the trick, a perfectly executed illusion. Even more so when the mentalist made an exaggerated reaction to put out the fire, earning a general burst of laughter from the audience.

But Senku, from his seat, saw the slight tremor in his fingers.

For a brief moment, before Gen hid his hand behind his back, he saw the reddened skin, the way his fingers curled slightly.

He had burned himself.

Gen remained at the center of the stage for a few more seconds, enjoying the applause. Then he made one final bow and disappeared into the shadows behind the curtain.

Senku crossed his arms and didn’t dare stand up until his friends called for his attention, pulling him away with laughter, still excited about the grand finale.

Senku is the only one who seems to notice the mistake at the end.

Will he be okay?

He must be. It wasn’t that serious, really, just a small flame that got out of control.

Although…

The temperature of a flame can exceed 1,000°C, depending on the material fueling it. In the case of a magic trick, where special chemicals or fuels are used to control combustion, the temperature can be high enough to cause second-degree burns in less than a second.

Moreover, burns don’t just affect the surface of the skin. If the heat penetrates deep enough, it can damage nerves, blood vessels, and even muscle tissue.

Senku knows this better than anyone. It’s not just the heat that’s dangerous, but also the chemical residues that may remain on the skin, clothing, or in the air. He’s had trouble in the lab for the same reasons…

Stop thinking about it.

The mentalist will know how to deal with his injury.

"We should come again!" Taiju interrupted his mental ramblings, practically jumping with excitement.

"I agree!" Yuzuriha chimed in. "It was so good! Now I understand why the tickets were so expensive." She approached Senku and made an exaggerated bow. "We really appreciate you inviting us, Senku, even if you didn’t like it. It makes us happy that you did it for us."

"We don’t deserve a friend like you!" Taiju sobbed. "We love you!" He threw himself at Senku, and although he tried to dodge, it was too late. He was caught in the man’s arms, nearly squeezed breathless.

Yuzuriha laughed awkwardly. "Come on, Taiju, let him go, he's turning purple."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Taiju released him, and Senku coughed, massaging his sore muscles. "I just got too excited."

"Let’s leave it at that, big guy. The show was fine. And you didn’t force me to do anything. It was fun… mocking that charlatan."

"So… can we watch Gen’s show together again?"

Senku was about to say "not a chance," but his friends' pleading faces made him swallow the words.

"Maybe," he conceded.

Not just for his friends' smiles.

He wanted to see the magician again.

He wanted to see another Gen show.

Gen woke up and immediately fought to go back to sleep.

Impossible.

A glance at his clock made him sigh—obviously, he wasn’t going to sleep anymore; it was already past noon. With the little strength he had left, he got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, grimacing at his reflection.

Messy hair, white roots showing again—he made a mental note to dye them soon. His face didn’t look great either; the moment he got home, he had collapsed onto his bed without removing his makeup, and now he completely regretted that stupid decision.

His arm hurt too.

Actually, it burned.

I shouldn’t have rushed it.

Next to the bathtub was a bag with medication—antibiotics and a cream to soothe his wound. His manager was a saint because the moment the man saw him walking offstage clutching his forearm tightly, he had rushed over and called the medical team without a single complaint.

He didn’t even scold him.

Gen had expected him to. He had expected yelling, someone telling him he was an idiot for taking such a risk.

Instead, he got pity, a day off, and a second-degree burn on his arm for a trick that gained him nothing.

His phone had rung several times throughout the night, but Gen hadn’t checked it—at first because the pain had practically knocked him out, and then because he felt too humiliated to want to talk about it.

As he applied the cream—almost howling in pain—his phone vibrated. Not the short buzz of a message, but the persistent hum of an incoming call. Gen wasn’t sure who would be calling his personal number.

It couldn’t be someone from work—if his manager had given him the day off, that meant no one was allowed to contact him.

Unless…

Faster than he wanted to admit, he rushed out of the bathroom and grabbed his phone, unlocking it with trembling hands. He swallowed hard at the sight of the screen.

Missed calls (3)
Unread messages (13)

All from Senku.

His chest tightened.

Damn it.

He was getting carried away.

Chapter Text

Kinro hasn't responded.

It has been three weeks, eight hours, four minutes, and fifteen seconds.

Sixteen... seventeen... eighteen...

He needs to stop counting.

And speaking of counting, where the hell did he leave his phone? He needs to charge it; he can't let the battery die.

He used to forget it all the time, leaving it anywhere without a care. His notifications were always silent because he found them annoying, and aside from messages from Taiju or Yuzuriha, his phone never received anything urgent. Everything was under control.

Now, however, he checks every insignificant spam message. And every time he unlocks his screen and sees the same number of unread messages, he feels something tighten in his chest a little more.

Thirty-one... thirty-two... thirty-three.

"Hey, boy."

Senku blinks and looks up, his mind taking a few seconds to register the interruption.

He almost lost count.

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

Damn it. You know you're doing a terrible job pretending when even your father notices.

"I'm fine."

Byakuya watches him with that soft yet scrutinizing look—the one he uses when he's worried but doesn’t want to pressure him.

"You don’t seem fine."

Byakuya Ishigami may not be his biological father, but he has been the best father anyone could ask for. He was always there, fulfilling any ridiculous whim his prodigy son came up with. He sold his damn car and walked to work every day just to get Senku scientific materials. Even when he was on the International Space Station, he never stopped calling him, never let him feel alone.

Of course, he would notice if something was wrong.

Senku avoids his gaze. He's not a good liar. Even so, the distraction helps him finally spot his phone, abandoned on the entryway table. His hand itches to grab it.

"It’s just a project. It’s not going as expected."

Byakuya doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push.

"Anything I can help with?"

Three weeks, eight hours, six minutes, and three seconds.

"Don't worry, old man." Senku stands, moving away from his father’s sight. "Don’t you have a date with Lillian in... now?"

The man hesitates for a moment but checks the time and quickly gathers his things. "You know you can trust me, right, son?"

Senku glances at his phone, lying beside Byakuya, who follows his gaze and raises an eyebrow in silent question.

"Lillian’s waiting for you," Senku urges.

His father sighs, waves goodbye, and leaves the apartment.

Fifty-seven... eight... nine...

Three weeks, eight hours, and seven minutes.

"Add more hydrochloric acid."

"Are you sure?" Chrome raised the beaker with the bubbling mixture. "I think we've added enough already."

"Who's the qualified one here?" Senku grumbled without looking up from his work. Chrome might be very smart, but sometimes he was incredibly stupid.

"Alright, alright." The boy shrugged. "But if this explodes, I'll say it was your fault."

"No. I'll say it was you who, with an air of grandeur, decided to add more reagent without properly measuring the concentration. No one would ever doubt me."

Chrome looked at him with fear.

"Sometimes you’re scary."

"Sometimes?"

A loud voice burst into the lab. Senku barely had time to process it before his instincts screamed at him to find the nearest exit. He mentally calculated the distance to the closest window and evaluated whether jumping was worth it. Probably yes. The fall would be worth it if it meant escaping the conversation he knew was coming.

"Senku is terrifying! That’s what makes him amazing!"

"I don’t know how you think that’s a compliment, big guy."

"Taiju!"

Yuzuriha walked in behind her partner. If she was angry, she didn’t really show it. "I told you to be quiet when we come here! You could scare them and cause an accident!"

"That is, if Senku doesn’t cause it first with the terrible mood he’s been in lately," Chrome added, setting aside his latest experiment. "What brings you two here?"

Taiju stepped forward with a beaming smile.

"We came to fix exactly that! Senku has been sad ever since that guy stopped responding to him, so we came here to brighten his day!"

His day just got significantly worse.

Chrome turned to him, narrowing his eyes.

"Guy? What guy? Why didn’t I know about this? I thought we were friends!"

Yuzuriha, ignoring Chrome’s drama, settled into one of the seats and placed her bag on the desk. Senku wrinkled his nose at the unmistakable scent of food filling the air. If he didn’t appreciate her so much, he would have kicked her out for contaminating his lab.

"You know you can trust us, Senku." Yuzuriha looked at him with kindness, but her eyes reflected genuine concern. "You can tell us what’s bothering you."

"The only thing bothering me right now is this chemistry project, in which Chrome refuses to cooperate and keeps ignoring all of my instructions."

"Man, just yesterday you literally asked me to try separating hydrogen from water through electrolysis just because you were curious," Chrome protested, crossing his arms. "Are you finally going to tell me who we're talking about?"

"Oh!" Taiju sat down next to Chrome, excited to tell the story. "Remember that philosophy assignment Senku hated a few weeks ago?"

"The one he ended up getting an A on and the professor praised in front of the entire class?"

Taiju nodded enthusiastically. "That one! Turns out the guy Senku interviewed was an extremely interesting person. Oh... well, those were his words. The thing is, Senku and that guy, Kinro, became really good friends!"

"And now the guy stopped replying to him?" Chrome processed the information, then slowly started grinning mischievously. "Wait, Senku. You've been wanting to cut my head off and serve it on a plate... just because the guy you like ghosted you?"

"No more comments, Chrome, or I'll dissolve it in hydrochloric acid and feed it to my cat."

The bell signaling the end of classes rang above them. Yuzuriha gracefully stood up, picked up her smelly bag, and smiled.

"We can go now! We have the perfect plan. Chrome, are you coming with us?"

"No, thanks." Chrome grabbed his things in a hurry. "I've got plans. And Senku just threatened me, so I'd rather avoid direct contact."

"Actually, he just wants to run away because Ruri invited him to eat."

"Shut up!"

Senku let out a dry laugh. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he had to use all his willpower not to pull it out of his pants.

If his real friends were trying so hard to cheer him up, he'd take advantage of it.

"I'm just getting back at you," he said, scratching his ear absentmindedly. The burning sensation confirmed that his habit was probably leaving a wound.

"Let's get out of here. The janitor wasn't happy last time I stayed past dismissal time."

"That's because you stayed until nightfall."

"Chrome, shut the fuck up."

Three weeks, seventeen hours, and forty-four minutes.

His friends’ so-called brilliant plan was to follow through on their previous threat. Which is how Senku found himself trapped on a tiny couch, squished between his best friends, watching the latest show of that fraud of a magician.

Not a great combination when one of them was a nearly two-meter-tall gorilla and the other, though small, could easily crush them both if she wanted to. He was practically suffocating at this point.

This time, Gen had decided to return to his roots: a mentalism act. Senku didn’t even bother analyzing the tricks. It was a pre-recorded show, and any mistakes had probably been edited out.

At least it seemed like that fire incident hadn’t turned into anything serious. The magician was still there, looking as dazzling as ever in the middle of the stage. Though Senku wondered if wearing that suit was just part of his new style or a way to hide some scar.

He sank into the couch, trying to focus on the screen. But his phone kept vibrating in his pocket, turning into a considerable annoyance.

Yuzuriha clapped excitedly at some trick, and Taiju, following her enthusiasm, moved too much, knocking over the last remaining popcorn from his bowl.

“No! I still wanted those!”

Senku sighed, watching him try to pick up the dirty popcorn from the floor, and snatched the bowl from his hands.

“I’ll handle it,” he murmured, standing up. His bones cracked in gratitude. “Keep watching, I’ll be back soon.”

“You’re so sweet,” Taiju sobbed dramatically from the floor.

“Say one more word, and I’ll make you go yourself.”

“I’ll shut up.”

Yuzuriha laughed at their childish fight while Senku headed for the kitchen. Sometimes it surprised him how familiar he was with his friend’s house, but it was convenient when he didn’t have to waste time asking where things were. Calmly, he pulled a bag of popcorn from the cupboard and tossed it into the microwave.

His phone kept vibrating.

With a sigh, and not much else to do until the popcorn was ready, he pulled it from his pocket, expecting to see his father’s name on the screen. Maybe he needed something, and Senku had just been ignoring him.

Nothing could have prepared him to see that name instead.

Kinro
Unread messages (12)

His brain suffered an immediate short-circuit, triggering two automatic reactions:

First, his mental counter stopped.

Second, his hand shot up to his mouth to stifle a scream.

What the hell?!

He unlocked his phone at lightning speed, completely forgetting about the bowl and the popcorn, and opened the newly updated chat.

Senku cursed under his breath as he read the messages. The first two had arrived in the afternoon, when he was in the lab. The rest while he was watching the show.

So… a burn?

A burn was the cause of his weeks of anxiety.

Actually, it was the second burn that had worried him in the last month.

Nah. There was no doubt Kinro worried him way more than that fraud of a magician.

Shit. Now what?

Was he supposed to reply? The messages were recent, and it wasn’t like the other guy hadn’t left him hanging for weeks.

His fingers hovered over the screen, hesitant. Should he answer? Block him? Or just ignore him, like the other had done to him for weeks?

The microwave beeped, snapping him out of his trance. And suddenly, the answer was so obvious he felt ridiculously stupid for not thinking of it sooner.

He turned off the microwave but didn’t even bother taking out the popcorn. Instead, he spun on his heels and bolted to the living room.

Taiju and Yuzuriha looked at him in shock—probably because this was the first time in their lives they’d seen him run voluntarily.

And then, he practically shouted:

"He replied!"

"So, you don't know whether to reply or ignore him as revenge for not answering you?" Taiju crosses his arms, not entirely convinced by the idea.

"It's not revenge."

"It sounds like one." Yuzuriha chimes in with a small smile.

Senku turns his phone in his hands. He had shown them the chat, but now he doesn't even dare to turn on the screen.

"...Wouldn't I seem too desperate if I reply right away?"

Taiju stays silent, unsure of what to say, and Yuzuriha doesn't answer immediately either. Asagiri's voice continues playing in the background, and Senku turns off the TV—he can't listen to another second of that guy's voice.

"It's not like he did it on purpose to hurt you," Yuzuriha begins gently. "He had an accident. You don’t know how much it might have affected him. He says it was just a burn… but you, more than anyone, know how serious that can be."

The memory of the magic show comes to mind. It was only a couple of seconds, but Gen Asagiri’s arm had looked genuinely injured.

If that happened in a pre-recorded performance, how bad could it have been in an uncontrolled fire?

He must have had a really hard time, and Senku was being an idiot, only thinking about himself.

He sighs and unlocks his phone with determination. He knows exactly what to say.

He types his reply and shows it to his friends.

Yuzuriha gives him a thumbs-up with a satisfied smile, and Taiju… well, Taiju is already crying.

"Why the hell are you getting so sentimental, big guy?"

"It's the first time you've cared so much about someone. It's like you're a different person… I really like your friend."

Taiju starts sobbing even more dramatically, and of course, Yuzuriha plays along, patting his back while pretending to wipe away nonexistent tears.

Senku clicks his tongue, but his expression softens.

"Pair of idiots…" he mutters, glancing at them. "Not like I could ever change you."

Yuzuriha's eyes sparkle. "Come on! Send it already! Don’t make him wait any longer!"

"Alright, alright." Senku smiles, presses send, and lets out a quiet sigh.

It’s done.

Chapter Text

How could he forget? Gen thought as he lay back on his mattress. That was the day he ruined everything.

Gen felt the air get caught in his throat. He coughed, choking on his own saliva, and nearly fell off the bed in his desperate attempt to reach for a glass of water.

Senku had noticed!?

There was no news on Instagram or his fan page on Facebook. No rumors, no leaks. Which only meant one thing: Senku had figured it out on his own.

Oh, shit!

Gen had told him about the burn!

At least he had been smart enough to come up with an alternate story.

For Senku, his injury was due to an accident at his job as a security guard in a cosmetics lab. Something that sounded real enough to justify the use of dangerous substances without raising suspicion.

It’s not like he had asked Kinro about his past jobs just to steal his personality.

Not at all.

Damn it. His best online friend had to be the most ridiculously intelligent and observant person in the universe, right?

Gen ran his tongue over his lips, feeling his throat dry up. He had made a conscious effort to hide the injury on stage, making sure no one suspected… but, of course, Senku had to be the exception.

What was he supposed to do now? Denying it would only raise more suspicion, but he also couldn't show too much interest in the conversation.

Gen felt a pang in his chest.

He knew he shouldn't take it personally. Senku had no idea who he was actually criticizing… but still, it hurt.

It wasn't the first time someone had called him a fraud.

It wouldn't be the last.

WHAT?!

Gen felt his heart stop for a second. Senku had just connected his accident with Gen Asagiri's accident. No, no, no! That wasn't good! He had to change the subject fast.

Still lying on his mattress, Gen rolled over a couple of times, feeling anxiety crawl over his skin like static.

Maybe Senku wasn’t responding because he had fallen asleep.

That had happened before.

What if he figured out the coincidences?

Gen sighed and let his phone fall onto his chest.

This time, he would wait.

He just hoped he'd get lucky.

"He hates me."

Early in the morning, Gen let himself fall with a dull thud onto the dresser in his dressing room, letting out a long and dramatic sigh over it.

Tsukasa, beside him, laughed at his misfortune. "He doesn’t hate you, he hates Gen Asagiri."

"And what the hell is the difference?"

"He hates the media personality, not who you really are."

"As always, so philosophical, Tsukasa."

Ukyo burst into the dressing room with a tray of fresh fruit in his hands. Gen’s mouth watered at the sight, remembering he hadn’t eaten anything since the night before due to stress.

"I’m just telling the truth. Even in interviews, you have a very different attitude. It’s easier to talk to you off-camera." Tsukasa grabbed a banana and thanked Ukyo with a slight nod as he placed the tray on the table.

Gen got up to take one of the apples and let himself fall back into his position of despair. "And what if he finds out? He’s going to hate me even more!"

Ukyo patted him sympathetically on the back.

"I’m sorry to tell you that it’s not an ‘if it happens,’ it’s a ‘when it happens.’"

"That’s true," Tsukasa said, biting unpleasantly into his banana. "The guy is smart. Sooner or later, he’ll connect the dots."

"Do you guys hate me too?"

"Didn’t you say he noticed your burn?" Ukyo pointed out with an amused smile. "You had dozens of cameras around you, and a high school kid was the only one who caught it. At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if he already knows."

"I agree." Tsukasa finished his banana and proceeded to devour a pear. "The best thing you can do is end this before it gets out of hand. Especially the part about pretending to be Kinro. That poor guy must be sneezing nonstop lately."

Ukyo seemed about to add something else when the dressing room door suddenly swung open.

The space was already small, so the arrival of a fourth person made the atmosphere feel suddenly tighter.

"Excuse me, young Asagiri," his bodyguard announced, peeking through the door. "They’re calling you for the show’s recordings."

Tsukasa choked on his food when he saw Kinro’s face appear. Ukyo also laughed, though more discreetly, and the poor man looked bewildered by their reactions.

"Speak of the devil."

"Alright," Gen finally got up and took a bite of his apple. Too sweet. "Come on, Kinro, you still haven’t finished telling me about your high school days."

The real Kinro frowned in obvious confusion but said nothing, simply nodding before following Gen out of the dressing room.

"Hey! Don’t forget about the party this weekend!" Ukyo reminded him as he was about to leave. "Your manager will hang you if you miss another one!"

Gen just raised a hand to signal that he had heard, without bothering to turn around.

Right.

The stupid party.

Gen scoffed. He couldn't tell Senku the real reason why he was invited to one of the most important parties of the year, so he made up an excuse about a dinner at his fake job. Half-truths.

Someone please take this man's brain away.

What an inspiring story. Gen just hoped Senku wouldn’t dig any deeper.

Gen felt like luck wasn’t on his side. Damn scientist, couldn’t he just let it go?

Gen bit his lip, unsure how to respond to that. He knew Senku had said it as a joke. He made those kinds of jokes all the time, teasing Gen about how demanding he was as a friend. But Senku didn’t know that Gen had no interest in talking to any girl. In fact, he wasn’t interested in girls at all. He tapped lightly on the now-dark screen. His manager constantly reminded him not to share important information through chat, and so far, Gen had followed that rule. Most of what Senku knew about him were lies. It deserves at least one truth. He quickly typed a response and sent it without looking. It was done.

He had never written those words before. He had never said them out loud. Because being gay in a country like his wasn’t easy. And being a public figure made it even worse. He knew there were people in the industry who had admitted it, and it had cost them dearly. His team told him that staying ambiguous was the best option. That mystery sold better than truth.

He finished with a joke. Because being sincere had never been his strong suit. The phone vibrated in his hands. A single message.

Gen blinked, confused. That was it? Another message arrived almost immediately.

Gen let out a breathless laugh.

Oh.

Oh.

Gen felt his chest deflate, as if he had been holding his breath all this time without realizing it. A knot in his stomach—one he hadn’t even noticed—slowly unraveled.

He stared at the screen, stunned. He had expected a more… critical comment. Maybe something awkward or clumsy.

But no.

This was perfectly Senku.

No uncomfortable questions. No judgment. Just a sarcastic remark and a complaint about his grades.

Gen smiled, resting his head on his hand.

It was perfect.

The door opened slowly. Gen expected to see his makeup artist there—until he remembered the woman had taken her maternity leave. Instead, a young girl, visibly nervous, peeked in with an uncertain expression.

“Excuse me, I’m your new makeup artist. I came to get you ready for tonight’s party.” The girl gave an exaggerated bow. “It’s a pleasure to work with you.”

Gen sent one last set of messages to Senku before putting his phone away.

Gen turned off the screen and looked at the young makeup artist with a lopsided smile. “Work your magic, dear.”

The room is striking. Large chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a warm glow that makes the luxurious tablecloths and marble floor gleam. It’s clear that the event’s budget is exorbitant; one only needs to look at the heavy velvet curtains and the abundant variety of dishes on the central table.

This used to be his dream.

Gen weaved through the crowd, greeting some and skillfully dodging others with almost rehearsed ease. He was supposed to be here to make connections, promote himself a little, keep his image alive in the industry. But if he was honest with himself, none of those things excited him in the slightest.

He felt the weight of his phone in his pocket, vibrating now and then with unread messages.
He could check it... but doing so here would be dangerous. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on an empty balcony. Perfect. He discreetly turned in that direction, determined to escape for a while under the excuse of “getting some fresh air.”
He hadn’t even made it halfway when firm hands landed on his shoulders, stopping him in his tracks.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Shit. Ryusui.

The younger Nanami—a successful entrepreneur obsessed with navigation, who had decided to branch into entertainment and ended up buying the television company Gen worked for. In short, a real headache.

“It’s hot in here, don’t you think, dear Ryusui?” Gen smiled with feigned innocence as he slipped out of his grasp. “I’m just heading to the balcony for a second.”

“You know I adore you,” Ryusui returned the smile, without a hint of genuine warmth. “I had you come here for a reason. Once we greet our hosts, you can do whatever you want. Even chat with that teenage scientist.”

“Damn Ukyo,” Gen muttered as Ryusui dragged him through the crowd.

“It’s important to me to know that my biggest star doesn’t fall from the sky, Gen. I don’t care what you do offstage, but right now, you’re still on it. And this event is part of your show.”

Gen sighed in resignation. It wasn’t that Ryusui was being cruel. On the contrary, he was right. He was just making sure Gen didn’t forget his role in all of this.

They stopped at a strategic point in the hall, where a couple and a young man were talking a few meters away. With a simple hand gesture from Ryusui, the three approached, wide smiles hanging on their perfect faces—except for the young man, who looked just as bored as Gen felt.

Gen composed himself and activated his best smile, burying the urge to run away. At his side, Ryusui stood firm, his mere presence serving as an anchor in this atmosphere of appearances.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.” The blond took the lead, greeting them with the innate elegance of a man who dominated any social setting. He bowed politely, took the woman’s hand, and kissed the back of it before firmly shaking the hand of the man beside her. “Lilian, Byakuya. Let me introduce you to my star of the moment.”

He stepped back, giving Gen the spotlight.

The crimson-eyed young man accompanying them was not introduced, which could only mean Ryusui didn’t consider him important. Gen should have ignored him, but for some reason, his gaze remained fixed on him, watching him with an intensity that felt unsettling.

Even so, he didn’t let it affect him. His performance had to be flawless.

“A pleasure, dear Lilian and Byakuya.” From his pocket, with a swift and nearly imperceptible movement, he pulled out a rose, twirling it between his fingers with ease before holding it firmly. “It’s an honor to be invited to such a glamorous event. My name is Asagiri Gen.”

With a perfect bow, Gen offered the rose.

The woman blushed and accepted the flower with a delighted smile.

The man clapped with evident enthusiasm, clearly entertained by the small trick.

And the crimson eyes never left him.

Chapter Text

“This is absurd,” Senku muttered, trying to adjust the jacket of his suit. It was too tight for his liking, uncomfortable and itchy all over. On the bed, a stupid red bow tie stared at him mockingly, as if it were laughing at his misfortune too.

His cat decided to do him a favor. It climbed onto the bed with feline elegance, took the bow tie between its teeth, and began to play with it, shaking it from side to side with enthusiasm. Senku watched the scene with a proud smile, mentally reminding himself to give the cat more treats when he returned.

If he managed to have the energy to return, that is.

“Senku?” His father’s head peeked through the door, looking at his son nervously. He wore a similar suit, but on an older man, it looked infinitely more elegant. “Are you ready?”

“I don’t think I can go,” Senku dropped onto the mattress, receiving a distressed look from his father.

“Why? Did something happen?”

“Manganese has eaten my bow tie.” And he lifted the orange cat in his arms, who meowed innocently, still with the evidence of his crime in his teeth.

Byakuya’s long sigh was so deep it might as well have been part of his soul escaping his body at yet another of his son’s antics.

“Don’t think that’ll get you out of it. This party is important. I’ll take you even if your cat eats the entire suit. Besides, you wouldn’t let Manganese get sick because of you.”

“I also have an industrial shredder that can do the job.”

“Get ready. Lilian is waiting for us.”

The man’s hurried footsteps echoed through the apartment. Senku followed him with his eyes, letting out a long sigh as he realized his improvised plan had completely failed.

“Well, Manganese, I’ll give you a treat anyway… but first, I have to figure out how to make you let go of that bow tie.”

While he wrestled with the cat (who, apparently, found the fabric more appetizing than his chicken kibble), his phone vibrated with the notification of a message.

“Senku!” his father’s voice called from the living room.

“Coming!” Senku replied with equal energy.

He slipped his phone into his pocket, making sure it was positioned where he could feel any vibration. He’d deny it for life, but knowing that Kinro also cared about keeping in touch calmed him more than he was willing to admit.

He hadn’t done it before out of respect for the other’s privacy, but if he got ignored again, he wouldn’t hesitate to find his address and show up at his house looking for answers.

As he said goodbye to his cat and stepped out of the room, a dry laugh escaped him, mocking his own hypocrisy. He judged his friend for keeping secrets from him, while he himself was heading to the party of the great Lilian Weinberg, playing the role of her stepson.

He couldn’t exactly go around spilling that kind of information so freely either.

Even though he knew that, sooner or later, news of his existence would get out, Senku preferred the peace of mind that it wouldn’t happen just yet. Especially after Lilian was harshly criticized when a paparazzo caught a photo of her kissing Byakuya, forcing her to confirm their relationship.

To her fans, the idea of such a beautiful and important woman like Lilian dating a man almost ten years older than her was a tragedy.

They’d ruin her career if they found out Byakuya also had a son.

Senku entered the living room with the same reluctance he’d felt ever since learning he’d have to attend the party. The famous singer was already there, and her presence clashed with the faded decor of the Ishigami apartment. Her bright, radiant aura made the furniture look even older.

As soon as Senku appeared, she dramatically opened her mouth and brought a hand to her chest as if witnessing a miracle. Then, in an Oscar-worthy performance, she wiped away nonexistent tears as she approached.

"You look so good, Senku!" Lilian’s accent made the English words a bit harder for him to understand. “I thought the only time I’d see you in a suit would be at your graduation.”

“Consider it your gift,” he teased as the singer adjusted his shirt. The feeling of her warm hands on his neck was strange. “You probably won’t be around by then anyway.”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

Even though the news had caught him off guard at first, he knew it was inevitable. Lilian would have to return to her home country soon, and Byakuya was a lovesick fool who would follow her anywhere. He couldn’t complain. His father was an adult; he could make his own decisions.

And besides, Senku was planning to move to the U.S. to continue his studies anyway.

They were just speeding things up.

Lilian’s smile faltered for just a second before she returned to her usual expression.

“No matter how far we are. We wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“That’s right!” his father chimed in from the living room with two glasses of red wine. He handed one to his partner and pointed his own at his son. “By then we’ll already be living in the U.S. But we’ll travel back whenever you need us.”

Senku scoffed. “I wasn’t looking for comfort, old man.”

Lilian smiled before taking a long sip of her wine. Then, with the precision of someone who had mastered the art of being a substitute maternal figure, she finished adjusting his clothes, patted him twice on the chest, and looked at him approvingly.

“There. You’re perfect… except for the bow tie. Where is it? I’ll put it on you.”

His father, still sipping wine, nearly choked on a laugh, and Senku barely had time to react before the true culprit made his grand entrance.

Manganese strutted in proudly, strands of red fabric hanging from his mouth, and bits of the bow tie trailing behind him like evidence of the crime. He stopped in the middle of the room, lifted his head with pride, and meowed as if expecting applause for his feat.

Lilian blinked a few times, glancing between the cat and the remains of what used to be a formal accessory. His father could barely hold in his laughter.

Senku let out a dramatic sigh and crossed his arms.

“Looks like I won’t be able to wear it,” he said with complete seriousness. Then he looked at Manganese, who was staring back at him with bright, innocent eyes, and added, “But at least someone found it useful.”

The presentation of Lilian Weinberg's new album surprised all her fans by taking place in Japan.

The singer justified her decision as part of a new strategy to connect with different cultures and strengthen the bond with her followers. However, the media was quick to point out the obvious: it was just another desperate excuse not to leave her partner’s home country.

 And although they were right, they couldn’t care less.

The news exploded across the media and unleashed an avalanche of emails into Lilian’s inbox. In the end, Senku had to intervene, creating a program that classified the messages from Japanese fans—excited by the idea of meeting her—and the ones from local celebrities practically begging for an invitation to the exclusive party following the series of concerts in the country.

Senku’s role, as always, was to attend, greet whoever deemed him worthy of it, and occasionally help translate Lilian’s conversations.

His father, on the other hand, seemed to enter power-saving mode whenever conversations dragged on for too long.

His reward, as always, was being able to stuff himself with the delicious food served on the extravagant tables.

This probably tastes better than whatever they’re serving Kinro, he thought with amusement.

He considered pulling out his phone to take a picture of one of the elegant dishes and send it to his friend. He was already halfway through composing the message when he stopped cold, remembering he hadn’t even mentioned the event he was attending. He wasn’t good at lying, so he preferred to avoid conversations where he could slip up and reveal something.

With the same confidence with which he had pulled out his phone, he put it back in his pocket.

He’d text him later.

“Senku,” his father gave him a tap on the shoulder, “pay attention.”

“What’s going on…?”

Lilian made a subtle gesture with her head toward a blond man approaching them, dragging another figure along with a firm grip.

Senku grimaced upon recognizing who it was.

They both stopped in the middle of the hall, and for a brief moment, Senku clung to the hope that it was all just a coincidence.

Until the blond man raised his hand and motioned for them to come over.

 “Just great…” he muttered.

“Senku!” his father scolded him.

“What?! You know I don’t like him!”

“Guys, we have to go over…” Lilian shot them both a sharp look, especially Senku, and spent the whole walk scolding him for ruining the precious bowtie.

Don’t fight now, her clear eyes said. “I know Nanami, but I don’t know who the other guy is. Senku, would you be so kind?”

The scientist looked at his father for help, but he only laughed.

 Fine. You’ll pay for this, bastard.

He exhaled in resignation before saying the name with clear reluctance.

 “Gen Asagiri,” Senku continued. “He’s a fraud who calls himself a magician. No, actually, a mentalist. He’s become quite famous lately.”

“Perfect,” Lilian said, starting to walk toward them with her usual confidence. Byakuya and Senku exchanged confused glances, but had no choice but to follow her.

“Seems like you know who he is, so I’d appreciate if you’d serve as my translator.”

The singer gave him a glance over her shoulder, paired with a playful smile and a wink at Byakuya. That was all it took for Senku to understand what was going on.

They were making fun of him.

He didn’t have time to protest. With just a few steps, the distance that had seemed endless a moment ago vanished, and suddenly they were face to face with the famous couple.

Senku, as usual, took a couple of steps back. If he was lucky, the guests would stick to English and he wouldn’t have to intervene.

Although… he couldn’t deny that the appearance of the fake magician caught his attention. Gen smiled as always, with that exaggerated kindness that looked suspicious up close. His gaze moved between Lilian and Byakuya, but not for the reasons anyone would assume. It wasn’t simple nervousness at meeting an international star. There was something more in his posture, in the way he kept a slight distance from Nanami, as if restraining the urge to take a step back.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Nanami stepped forward to greet them, overflowing with enthusiasm. All his attention was on Lilian and Byakuya. Senku remembered his email perfectly:

"It would be an absolute honor and pleasure to be part of this glamorous evening! Trust me, you won’t regret it."

Lilian had laughed out loud when she read it and, without thinking too much, added Nanami Entertainment to the guest list, despite Senku’s many protests at the time.

“Lilian, Byakuya. Let me introduce my star of the moment.” The blond stepped aside, allowing the magician to present his act.

“A pleasure, dear Lilian and Byakuya,” the magician’s voice was soft and captivating. He pulled a red rose from his jacket sleeve and hid it between his hands with a smooth motion.

Senku didn’t look away.

His attention wasn’t on the trick.

His eyes scanned with surgical precision every small detail: the way Gen hid his sleeve, the slight tension in his fingers.

The wound should be there.

“It is an honor to be invited to such a glamorous event. My name is Asagiri Gen.” With perfect courtesy, the illusionist bowed slightly before offering the red rose to Lilian. She smiled excitedly while Byakuya began clapping enthusiastically.

But when Gen straightened up, his gaze wasn’t fixed on them.

He was looking at him.

Senku felt a momentary jolt of confusion. Deep blue eyes pierced through him, holding him in place, analyzing him in return.

He could… he could compare them to hundreds of minerals. Blue like lapis lazuli, with its dark base and golden flecks that shimmered in the hall’s light. Or maybe more like apatite, a lighter, deceptively simple blue yet fascinating in its structure. Or like kyanite, with those ethereal tones that seemed to change depending on the angle.

Seeing Asagiri now was a completely different world from watching him on screen. Even from the best seats at a live show.

Gen Asagiri looked younger than he had imagined.

 His sharp face held a subtle charm, without the excesses of his book covers (which Senku, of course, had only bought for research purposes). His makeup was subtle: a soft eyeliner that highlighted his eyes, and lips pinker than they likely were naturally.

"I’d rather not think about whatever the hell I’m putting on my face every morning.

The conversation with Kinro came to mind and Senku wondered whether Gen Asagiri was someone who used makeup for pleasure or because it was a necessity within his job.

But that was a ridiculous question.

He shook his head and glanced around, looking for an escape route. Now that both had introduced themselves in English, his presence was no longer necessary. He had no intention whatsoever of staying there, interacting with two complete strangers.

In the distance, a half-empty balcony caught his attention.

Perfect.

At least he could text a bit to keep himself entertained.

He was about to turn around and leave when Lilian spoke:

“Oh, the pleasure is ours too. I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re a magician, aren’t you? No, wait! In fact, you’re a mentalist! Now I understand why Ryusui insisted so much on introducing you.”

Senku frowned.

On another occasion he might’ve praised Lilian’s ability to lie without blinking. Now, honestly, he was thinking about trading her for the destroyed bowtie the cat had ruined. She spoke with the strongest, most unintelligible accent in the world.

His father, beside him, held back a laugh with great effort. Both Gen Asagiri and Ryusui Nanami looked at her with expressions somewhere between confusion and wondering whether it was a joke.

“Oh, what do I see there!” Byakuya exclaimed in terrible English too and with ridiculous enthusiasm. “Those seafood sticks are my favorite! And look what a coincidence, here’s my… nephew. Yes, my nephew” he pointed at Senku shamelessly “he’s excellent with languages. I’m sure he can serve as your translator.”

And before he could react, he was pushed straight into the center of the conversation.

To hell with this…!

“Oh, yes,” Lilian continued faking the horrible tone, “many aren’t able to understand me, but how great that we have you here to help us, right?”

Senku clenched his teeth.

He glanced sideways at the three celebrities. He felt like a greasy piece of meat tossed into a lion’s pit.

Especially with Gen Asagiri looking at him that way.

“Next time I’ll have Manganese cut my veins.”

Look at him there, so handsome and elegant, but with an expression of hatred that ruins his entire pretty face.

Gen watched the scene with amusement. He knew, thanks to past interviews, that Lilian had a strong accent, but he never expected to hear a completely reinvented version of the language coming out of her lips.

“Oh! And I'm also trying to learn Japanese!” the woman continued enthusiastically. “It would be better for everyone if you spoke it too, don’t you think?”

Gen raised an eyebrow. It was pretty obvious she was trying to keep the red-eyed boy tied to her.

How is it possible that his eyes are red?

And that hair… How much gel do you need for it to stay like that? The tips are green!

Also… why the hell does he look so good? He’s not even wearing makeup! That’s just unfair! He’ll never suffer from all the chemicals I used to smear on my skin.

What were they again…? Acids, fluor… something. Oh! And heavy metals!

“Japanese is an art!” Ryusui interjected in an exaggeratedly grand tone, interrupting Gen’s mental complaints. “Every word is a masterpiece, a reflection of the greatness of our civilization!”

The pretty boy cleared his throat. His discomfort was obvious, and for a moment, Gen thought he would try to slip away. But then, he spoke.

Oh. His voice.

It was hoarse, slow, with surprisingly good English. He translated Ryusui’s words accurately and then went silent.

No, no, no! Gen can’t allow that!

“I can say with complete certainty that someone like you, dear Lilian, must sound incredible speaking Japanese!” Gen exclaimed with his most charming smile. “Of course, with such a harmonious voice like yours, there’s no doubt!”

The boy shot him a look. It was a mix of amusement and a hint of disbelief, like he couldn’t believe Gen had actually said that.

Even so, he translated it without much effort.

“Boys like you are my favorite,” Lilian replied, smiling with genuine enthusiasm. Gen smiled back, although he had only understood half of her words. “You’re very talented with compliments! But you don’t say them in a rude way. Believe me, I’ve met a lot of unpleasant people in my life.”

The pretty face frowned. Gen didn’t understand why until he translated her words for him.

“That’s a shame, dear Lilian,” he began to say, but was quickly interrupted by Ryusui.

“No woman should ever be looked at with hate!” the magnate proclaimed with overflowing passion.

Funny, considering the pretty boy seemed to want to drag Lilian out of there every time she spoke.

"Actually!" Gen seized the opportunity. "How about coming to one of my shows? It'll completely cheer you up!"

He waited for the translation. The boy sighed and, in the tone of someone who would rather be anywhere else, muttered:

"Asagiri is inviting you to his show."

"That sounds amazing!" Lilian nodded excitedly. "I haven’t had the chance to see you, but my husband's… nephew spoke very highly of you."

If looks could kill… those red eyes would have incinerated her on the spot.

But for Gen, it was the perfect opportunity.

"Really?" he asked with interest, turning directly toward him. "So, you’re a fan then?"

The red eyes sparkled with mockery.

"You give yourself too much credit."

That was the second time he’d heard that today.

"Don’t worry," Gen sang, leaning slightly toward him. "You’ll be invited too, darling."

A thunderous sound came from the speakers, followed by a high-pitched voice calling for Lilian and announcing her performance.

"Looks like I have to go," she sighed. "Send me an email with the details, Nanami. I’ll be waiting."

Ryusui, with his most dazzling smile, nodded energetically, still throwing compliments even as the woman walked away.

Gen watched with slight disgust as the pretty boy followed her without even glancing his way.

Well, well… this is going to get interesting.

"This is incredible, Gen!" Ryusui grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him enthusiastically. "I’ll give you a day off! No, make it two! You deserve them!"

Gen staggered a bit and shot him an annoyed look.

"Just let me leave now and I’ll be fine."

Ryusui snapped his fingers, lit up by yet another one of his grand ideas.

"Well, not from the party. Our limo won’t be here until later. But now you can do whatever you want! Even flirt with Lilian’s nephew!"

Gen felt his soul leave his body.

"What? Keep your voice down, damn it!" He elbowed him in the ribs. "I wasn’t flirting!"

Ryusui raised an eyebrow, smiling smugly.

"If you say so…"

Gen shot him a sharp look.

"I say what I say, period!"

"As you wish." Ryusui crossed his arms, looking completely satisfied. "But if at any point you need help winning over the ge

nius, you know who to call."

"Shut up, Nanami!"

Even the bathrooms in this place are elegant.

Gen looked at himself in the mirror as he carefully adjusted his suit. He made sure the hidden accessories under his sleeves were well covered. They brushed against his wound when he moved, and it hurt a little, but they had saved his life at every performance so far.

The wooden door opened with a soft creak, followed by a few seconds of Lilian's voice slipping in from the hallway before it closed again.

Gen looked up.

Oh.

The pretty boy.

They met in the reflection. Without the noise of the event and the important figures around, his face looked more relaxed. The crimson eyes no longer pierced him with hatred.

Just… disinterest.

The boy was the first to look away. He headed to the farthest sink, though there was barely any distance between them in that event hall bathroom.

"Can you stop looking at me?" he said, not turning around.

Not if you keep looking like that.

"Does it bother you that I’m watching you?"

Red and blue met again in the mirror.

"It's weird," the other replied, serious.

Gen smiled, delighted.

"I think entering a place without saying hello is weirder."

"We already met a while ago."

"And did you say hello then?"

The boy's expression opened again.

"You didn’t either."

So it's up to him to make the first move?

Perfect.

He could do that.

He turned, walked over calmly, and with his best smile, extended his hand.

"My name is Gen Asagiri, a pleasure to meet you."

The boy scoffed. "What? No flowers for me too?"

Gen blinked, a bit surprised, before letting out a small laugh. The other’s hand clasped his. A brief touch… but enough for a slight shiver to run down his spine.

"Ishigami," he said curtly.

"Ishigami?" Gen repeated, thoughtful. "That last name sounds familiar... Won’t you tell me your first name, dear?"

"Not for now. Maybe one day you’ll see it in the news."

"What? For homicide?"

The boy let out an unexpected laugh and, with it, also let go of his hand. The handshake had lasted longer than necessary, and Gen already missed the contact.

“No, unless someone gets in the way of my plans to reach space.”

Ah, so a smart boy.

“Well then, I hope your little trips take us to meet again.”

“That’s if your fame still lasts by then,” he replied, as calm as ever.

Gen let out a loud laugh. Not a polite showbiz or interview laugh. A real one. The kind of laugh that hurts your ribs and scrapes your throat.

It was the first time in a long while that someone had said something so direct… to his face.

The boy looked at him surprised at first, but ended up laughing too. And if his voice was already beautiful when he spoke, his laugh was fucking glorious. Like a charming thunderclap.

“I never thought you were the masochistic type,” he said.

Gen was about to reply, but suddenly, the boy raised an eyebrow, pursed his lips, and without warning, reached for Gen’s hair.

“What are you…?” Gen froze as the other's fingers expertly combed through his bangs.

Ishigami gently shook a section of his hair, then another, as if inspecting a lab sample.

“You had something there,” he murmured, focused. “Glitter... or maybe a petal fragment. I don’t know. It distracted me.”

Gen blinked, confused but fascinated, as the boy’s fingers continued brushing through his hair at an unnecessarily slow pace.

“Excuse me… do I have something on my head?”

“No… well, yes,” the boy answered with a half-smile, lowering his hand but not stepping away. “Your roots are white.”

Shit.

Gen pulled away and nervously approached the mirror. Of course he had forgotten to retouch the dye! It wasn’t visible at first glance, but under that damn elegant bathroom lighting, the white roots shone like Christmas lights.

“You dye your hair?” the other asked.

“I…”

“I do too,” he confessed, pointing at his green-tipped hair in the mirror. “Just the ends. Since I’m naturally blond, the colors stick easily. I tried purple, blue, red… but green was the only one that didn’t make my dad think I joined a cult.”

Gen turned to him, catching his breath.

“And the shape?” he pointed at the spiky hair, pretending it was accidental.

“This?” the boy grinned mischievously. “I stuck my finger in a socket as a kid. It’s been like that ever since. Tragic, but effective.”

Gen burst out laughing again, leaning forward and grabbing the sink for support.

“What? Hey! Your hair isn’t exactly normal either!” he protested, though a smile was painted on his face.

Gen straightened up, one eyebrow raised, eyes gleaming.

“Says the human cactus—mine’s at least on purpose!” he shot back. “But go on, keep talking.”

The boy opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. Gen could see he was fighting off a wider smile.

But they were interrupted.

“Excuse me.”

Kinro appeared in the doorway like a block of ice. Neither of them had noticed him enter, which was quite alarming given his size. Now he watched them with a mix of discomfort and tightly held professionalism. Gen figured that of all the unusual situations he had witnessed in his career, finding his protégé laughing and chatting so animatedly with a stranger in a bathroom probably topped the list.

“The limousine is here for you, Mr. Asagiri,” he announced in his usual tone, firm as a wall.

“Oh,” Gen nodded, regaining some composure. “Yes, I’ll be there in a second.”

Kinro left without another word, closing the door behind him as if sealing a time capsule.

Gen let out a dramatic sigh while adjusting his clothes. Between the laughter and the little hair chaos, his suit had gotten slightly crooked.

“I guess I’ll see you, darling,” he said, throwing one last smile.

The red-eyed boy looked up, still calm.

“I guess,” he repeated in a tone that sounded much less indifferent than before.

Gen headed to the door, but just before leaving, he turned around one more second.

“Don’t short-circuit without me.”

Ishigami let out an exhale halfway between a laugh and disbelief.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to have rubber gloves on for when I see you again.”

And with that, Gen walked out. Leaving behind the soft echo of his footsteps, a trace of elegant perfume… and a pair of crimson eyes with a barely hidden smile in front of the mirror.

It’s more pleasant off-camera...

Senku pushed the thought away immediately, as if it were poison.

No. You can’t think that the damn Gen Asagiri is pleasant.

When he finally mustered the energy to leave the bathroom, the magician had already vanished like a well-executed trick. Outside, the hustle and bustle had increased; people were crowding at the main entrance, a clear sign that the evening was coming to an end.

Senku let out a sigh and headed toward his father, who seemed happy nibbling on the last few desserts from the buffet, as if his secret goal had been that all along.

“The evening was exquisite. Lilian knows how to entertain her audience.”

Senku stopped dead in his tracks.

That voice. He knew it well. He had to listen to it hundreds of times to respond to the survey for his philosophy homework.

It was... Kinro.

Kinro?

It couldn’t be.

His heart gave a violent lurch, and for a second, he thought he had heard wrong. But the voice rang out clearly, and it was exactly the same as the one that had been replying to him in that chat that time.

So... he was here? This was the elegant dinner they had invited him to?

No. He would’ve said something. He loved to babble about his accomplishments. Going to Lilian’s party would’ve been something he couldn’t keep quiet about.

But…

Senku, a mix of anxiety and impulse driving him, spun on his heels and plunged into the crowd, trying to follow the voice. But the closer he got, the more the conversations mixed. It was like searching for a frequency in white noise. Recognizing a single voice became impossible.

He stepped out of the hall, scanning every corner with his gaze. But nothing. He didn’t hear it again. He didn’t see him again.

Until a presence made him turn.

In the distance, between the exterior lights and the shadows of the night, stood Gen Asagiri. Impeccable, smiling… as always. He raised his hand elegantly to say goodbye, just before the imposing Tsukasa Shishio—whom he had only seen on social media until now—escorted him toward a limousine.

Senku raised his hand, not thinking too much about it, and returned the gesture.

But the discomfort in his chest betrayed him.

Because, even though his eyes were fixed on Gen…

...it wasn’t him he was truly hoping to greet.

Chapter Text

Two well-deserved days of rest were enough to improve Gen’s mood. He woke up feeling lighter, that usual spark of his back again, and decided to make the most of it. He took some promotional photos, got ready for an important interview, and later attended a meeting to evaluate the budget for his upcoming show.

All without losing his nerves.

He took a sip of his cold coffee while his new makeup artist, Charlotte, arranged her tools on the table. Gen was already seriously considering including her on his permanent team. Despite her visibly nervous nature—she trembled every time he spoke to her directly—her work was impeccable.

“The photo session was amazing!” she exclaimed, placing her brushes with enthusiasm. “I think we should try that style again. It brings out your eyes in an almost magical way.”

Gen leaned back in his chair, evaluating the idea with a raised eyebrow. He took another sip of coffee while watching her through the mirror.

“I don’t know, darling… My makeup has always been very simple. You know, elegant, natural, like I just woke up fabulous.”

She let out a nervous giggle, and just then, Gen’s phone vibrated with its usual notification tone. A pending conversation.

He glanced at it, recognized the name on the screen, but didn’t pick it up. He’d reply later.

A new message chimed. Then another. Gen recognized the pattern. It was Senku, he must’ve made some important discovery with his new experiment and now was flooding Gen’s inbox to tell him about it.

“Does it seem important?” the makeup artist murmured, pausing with a brush in hand. Her eyes moved from Gen’s phone to her own reflection in the mirror. “You can answer if you want.”

Gen took the phone, turned it in his hand without unlocking it, then placed it face down on the table beside the empty glass.

“Don’t worry, darling,” he said, pretending to be unbothered. “You can start. And I’ll take your advice… let’s do something bold again.”

He hesitated as he said it. He wasn’t entirely convinced. He had a very thought-out, very measured image. His makeup had always been simple, controlled.

She smiled with an almost electric spark in her eyes. “Of course! You’ll see, this is going to blow up the internet.”

Gen forced himself to smile too, but something in the pit of his stomach tensed—it was that uncomfortable feeling that came up when something didn’t sit right.

He knew this world well, with all its fake glitz and forced smiles. Like he had already written to Senku in one of his messages: being famous sucks. And it wasn’t a dramatic exaggeration, it was a truth that became more evident with each passing year.

He really loved his job. The stage, the lights, the magic of performance. But lately… he felt like he was falling behind. Like the world was moving at a ridiculous speed and he could barely stay on his feet, as if dancing on a treadmill that never stopped. Showing up with a new look, even if it was just an aesthetic detail, would at least get him trending for a few hours. An illusion of progress.

Small efforts, he reminded himself. Calculated moves to stay in the game.

The excess of makeup on his face felt uncomfortable. He had always preferred a cleaner style. But he couldn’t deny Charlotte’s talent. Her hands were fast, steady, and precise, though there was something in her shy smile that sometimes threw him off.

Even so, he decided to trust her. He closed his eyes and let her work in silence.

That moment of calm was suddenly broken.

A loud bang at the door—almost a kick disguised as a dramatic entrance—made them both turn. Gen opened his eyes just in time to see his manager storm into the room, visibly agitated.

He looked like he was about to take off.

“How the hell did you manage to invite Lilian to the show?!” he shouted, like he couldn’t contain his excitement. “That’s incredible!”

Gen smiled—at least this time he wasn’t getting scolded.

“Of course I did, darling. Do you think I’d waste an opportunity like that?” He elegantly adjusted his freshly dyed hair, letting a few strands fall strategically across his forehead. “You know I don’t do things halfway.”

His manager let out a short laugh, that mix of pride and relief only someone who had survived too many media scandals could have.

“Fascinating,” he said as he dropped into the nearby chair. “Ryusui also told me that you managed to win over Lilian's nephew.”

The pretty boy. Gen chose to avoid the topic.

“Ryusui is a gossip,” he replied, tilting his head slightly. “Don’t believe everything he says. He has a talent for exaggeration… and for making things up, too.”

“I won’t deny that, but the story sounds way too good to be made up,” his manager replied.

“Let’s just say… it was an interesting night.”

Charlotte lowered her brush with a nervous smile still on her face and stood proudly as she dusted off her hands.

“All done!” she announced in a cheerful voice.

Gen’s manager looked at him for a moment, critically evaluating his new appearance. Then, he laughed and gave him a couple of pats on the shoulder.

“I see you were serious, kid. It’s good to see that spark back in you. It was about time.”

And with that, he left the dressing room with the same energy he had entered. Charlotte, still picking up some of her tools, dropped a couple of accessories in her hurry to leave as well. Gen didn’t stop her. He’d talk to her later about the new contract—if he decided to sign it. For now, there was something more urgent.

He turned to the mirror. The image looking back at him was different… but not unfamiliar. The makeup was flawless, yes, but also heavy, more aggressive than he was used to. The dark eyeliner gave an unexpected intensity to his expression, almost as if he were hiding behind a bolder mask.

He wasn’t sure if he liked it. Though he admitted it gave him an interesting look.

With a sigh, he picked up his phone from the table, unlocked it, and smiled slightly. The notification was still open, just where he’d left it.

“Well… let’s see what we’ve got here,” he muttered to himself, ready to dive into Senku’s replies.

But the door burst open once again.

“Gen!” Minami, his stylist, exclaimed, bursting in like a whirlwind. Her eyes were wide and a look of outrage painted her face. “Your makeup artist said you changed your style! Oh! It’s true! You had to tell me!”

Without giving him time to answer, she grabbed his arm firmly and started dragging him out of the dressing room.

“Now we’ll need to do a whole new wardrobe fitting. The entire plan changed, you know? Take responsibility for your decisions!”

“But… wait, darling, my phone…” he managed to protest as he left the still-unlocked phone on the table.

“There’s no time for that,” Minami replied without letting go.

As the two disappeared down the hallway, Charlotte peeked in again, now with a truly apologetic expression.

“Sorry, I forgot my setting spray,” she said in a soft voice. “Do you think I can grab it from your dressing room?”

“Doesn’t matter!” Gen managed to shout before losing sight of her, dragged away by his stylist’s determined pace.

Damn it. He really needed to get a doorknob with a lock.

“What the hell are you doing in my house?”

“Damn it, Ukyo, just get out of the way.”

Gen shoved his friend aside with no delicacy and walked into the apartment like it was his own. Ukyo, who worked as a sound operator on his team, barely had time to close the door behind him.

Even though he earned well, Ukyo lived in a small apartment far from downtown—perfect for hiding from public life… or for hosting a Gen in the middle of an existential crisis.

Without any ceremony, Gen dropped a load of ice cream and snacks onto the table. The noise caught Ukyo’s attention, who instinctively was already looking for spoons in the kitchen.

“Looks like it’s serious,” he murmured as he pulled the cutlery from the drawer.

“It is!” Gen threw himself onto the couch with the flair of an award-winning actor. “Guess what dear Senku said?”

“He said he wants to meet you?”

“Exactly!” Gen looked at him with seriousness and horror. “How did you know?”

Ukyo handed him the spoon like it was nothing. “I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. That guy’s probably less social than you, but at least he sounds genuine.”

“Senku is not antisocial,” Gen paused. “Well… maybe he is. But that’s not the point.”

He grabbed a tub of ice cream and started devouring it mercilessly. The mix of cold and anxiety was freezing his brain, but he didn’t seem to care.

“So what is the point?”

“That I also want to meet him!” Gen shrieked. “But first of all, he doesn’t even like me, second, my manager will kill me if he finds out, third, my ass is in danger, and fourth—okay, I don’t have a fourth but I’m sure there is one!”

Ukyo dropped next to him with a sigh. “Then… why don’t you just meet him without anyone finding out?”

“And which part of ‘my ass is in danger’ didn’t you hear?!” Gen glared at him, ice cream in hand. “That boy has the brain of a supervillain and the curiosity of a five-year-old. If he sees me in person, he’ll scan my soul.”

Ukyo chuckled softly. “Or use you in a science experiment.”

“And that’s even worse!” Gen replied, diving back into the bottom of the tub. “I’m doomed, Ukyo.”

Ukyo watched him in silence for a few seconds and then said: “Well, at least you brought the chocolate almond one.”

“Of course. What kind of sentimental fugitive do you think I am?”

“But seriously,” Ukyo said, setting his ice cream tub aside and looking at him calmly, “why don’t you do it?”

Gen huffed and sank even deeper into the couch.

“Dear…” he began, in a tired tone.

“No, seriously.” Ukyo leaned toward him a bit. “You’ve made me read his messages. And yeah, sometimes he talks badly about you —without knowing it’s you, of course— but he’s also said sweet things. He admires you, even if he doesn’t know it. And you, Gen… you don’t usually get this attached to anyone.”

Gen lowered his gaze, fiddling with the lid of the empty tub. “He… is interesting,” he admitted. “And annoying. And brilliant. But also very naive. He has no idea what he’s doing talking to me.”

Ukyo smiled. “And you do?”

“Of course not!” Gen exclaimed, almost offended. “I don’t do these things, Ukyo! I manipulate, seduce, lie charmingly, and disappear before I’m caught. I don’t stick around for… school fairs.”

Ukyo let out a small laugh. “Sounds like you already got caught. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

Gen looked at him with annoyance, but that irritation was as fragile as his resistance.

“And what if he hates me when he finds out who I am?” he asked softly, with a seriousness that clashed with all his previous theatrics.

Ukyo shrugged. “And what if he doesn’t?”

There was a long silence. Gen sank into his thoughts as if he were measuring every possible catastrophic scenario. But his face no longer showed pure panic—there was a small crack of doubt… or maybe hope.

Finally, he let out a dramatic sigh.

“Give me another spoon.”

Ukyo smiled. “That sounds like a yes.”

“No, it sounds like I need more ice cream to think.”

“Whatever you say, Gen.”

Gen adjusted his hair. Every strand in place, every movement rehearsed a thousand times in front of the mirror. He leaned toward his reflection and carefully checked his makeup, looking for imperfections that didn’t exist but that his mind insisted on imagining. One last glance: the eyeliner flawless, the foundation without cracks, the lips curved with surgical precision.

Perfect.

Or at least, perfectly enough to face the chaos that was about to unfold.

He took a deep breath.

"Alright," he murmured to himself, "I'll do this."

As if the universe were aware of his decision, his phone vibrated with a sharp, familiar buzz. His heart skipped a beat. Was it him?

He quickly reached for it, his fingers tense.

He would say yes to Senku. The conversation with Ukyo had helped, and now he knew exactly what he had to do.

When he unlocked the screen, his smile formed automatically, but it faltered just half a second later.

It wasn’t Senku.

In fact, it was an unknown number.

The name Gen had been expecting to see didn’t appear.

Only one notification.

And then another.

And another.

All from the same sender.

Gen didn’t move.

He didn’t breathe.

He just stared at the screen.

And wished he hadn’t unlocked it.

Chapter Text

“You look terrible”

“Chrome, the threat of feeding my cat with your remains still stands”

“You don't look very threatening when you look like a whiny kid”

Senku glared at him. The ridiculously festive atmosphere of the fair already felt like torture: shrill balloons, loud music, and too many people faking enthusiasm over baking soda volcano models. On top of that, there was the constant irritation caused by Chrome’s endless teasing, and the silent disappointment that Kinro hadn’t shown up.

A perfect combination that ended up driving away anyone brave enough to even look at his project.

And it was a very good project.

A sealed module that replicated extreme atmospheres: low temperatures, irregular pressure, minimal humidity, specific gases. It simulated, with almost surgical precision, the environment of Mars or the upper layers of Earth's atmosphere. He had connected CO₂ valves, a cooling system made from recycled parts, sensors controlled by a console, and a Raspberry Pi that monitored everything in real time. Even the UV lamps faithfully emulated the solar radiation that would kill any poorly adapted life form.

No one could say it wasn’t cool.

“Is it again about that guy from the chats? Every time he stops responding to you, you turn into a… rotten scallion.” Chrome adjusted one of the pieces as he spoke.

Senku raised an eyebrow. “That’s, without a doubt, your worst comparison about my hair so far.”

“Thanks, I try.” Chrome smiled. “So, he didn’t stop talking to you?”

“No. On the contrary.” Senku lowered his gaze briefly, his fingers tightening around the console’s edges. “He never stays silent.”

Chrome observed him suspiciously.

“So have you two made it official?”

Senku slowly lifted his head.

“Made what official?”

“Your relationship.”

There was no response. Only a loaded, dangerous silence. And then, a bunch of papers flew through the air and hit Chrome directly in the face, making him burst out in dry laughter as he rubbed his forehead.

“Hey! That hurts, mad scientist.”

Senku huffed, spinning on his heels to adjust one of the simulator’s gauges. But his mind was no longer on the data. It was on the messages. The latest ones. The ones that had felt less teasing and more... flirtatious.

No. He couldn’t confirm anything yet.

There was also the way his friend had responded to his invitation. For a moment, Senku really thought he had succeeded. That they would meet, run into each other amid the crowds, and he could finally rid himself of the stupid thorn that had been bothering him since Lilian’s party.

But then, the boy simply sent a message, rejecting him completely.

Senku stared at the screen for several seconds, his fingers motionless over the glass.

A small part of him had expected it. But another, perhaps more stubborn part, had insisted on the possibility that his friend would do the unthinkable and show up.

How long had they been talking now? Months? And they still weren’t able to meet face to face? It was ridiculous.

What if he was actually some perverted old man who didn’t want Senku to know? Although, honestly, Senku wouldn’t mind the age too much. Not when he had already invested so many hours talking with him. Not when he knew him better than many of his classmates.

“And what did you reply?” Chrome asked, not even trying to hide his curiosity.

And why the hell was he telling Chrome all this?

Senku looked down at his phone, where their latest conversation still glowed:

Instead of explaining, Senku handed his phone to Chrome, who read the latest messages and handed it back after a few minutes.

"This is messed up," he muttered bluntly. Then he let out a short, incredulous laugh. "I think I’ve never seen you beg anyone before."

Senku narrowed his eyes. "I’m not begging."

"Of course not," Chrome said with a lopsided smile, "you’re just asking him for the second time to come see you, even though he already turned you down once. Politely, but it’s still a rejection."

Senku huffed in exasperation and pocketed his phone with a sharp motion. He wasn’t in the mood to argue, and Chrome knew it… though that rarely stopped him.

His scientist friend seemed curious enough to drop another one of his usual untimely observations. He opened his mouth, probably to say some stupidity that Senku wasn’t willing to tolerate… but he stopped just in time, falling silent when a small shadow peeked in from one of the hallways.

It was Ginro.

Senku let out a contained sigh, almost relieved, when Chrome opted to bite his tongue. Not out of respect, of course, but because they both knew Ginro was an accident waiting to happen.

Good labor, sure. No complaints there. But he was definitely the dumbest man Senku had ever had the misfortune to meet. Trusting Ginro with a secret was like shouting it through a megaphone at a press conference.

"Guys!" Ginro appeared, panting as if he had just run a marathon. His face gleamed with excitement. "The other day you said you needed money, right? Well, guess what! I got you an awesome job!"

That caught their attention immediately. Senku narrowed his eyes. Chrome raised an eyebrow with interest.

"What kind of job?" he asked, tilting his head.

Ginro grinned, knowing he had them in the palm of his hand. "It’s super secret. Lucky no one else is here!"

Yeah. An idiot, no doubt.

"Spit it out before Senku kicks you," Chrome urged, preempting the murderous glare Senku was already aiming at Ginro.

"Remember when I told you my brother works with a celebrity?" They both nodded. Ginro repeated that story at every chance. According to him, his brother had some ambiguous job in the entertainment world, and he never missed an opportunity to brag about it. "Well, it turns out that guy he works for has a serious problem… An online stalker. And they want to hire someone who can find the culprit."

Senku frowned, now fully attentive. Chrome stopped scratching his head.

"And who’s the celebrity supposed to be?"

Ginro’s smile grew even wider, triumphant.

"Asagiri Gen."

Should I tell Senku something else?

Gen played with the phone between his fingers, spinning it slowly, as if he could decide his next move through that mechanical sway. Ever since he had received those messages, the mere idea of holding the device had become almost unbearable.

And yet, when the screen lit up again with a new message from Senku —another one asking if he would come to his fair—, Gen couldn't resist. He had read it three times before deciding to reply. He used the kindest tone he could build so as not to hurt him with his refusal.

Because deep down, he was sure of one thing: it couldn’t be Senku.

It made no sense. Nothing fit him. He was blunt, logical, obsessive... but not cruel. Never invasive. His words were always direct, but never hurtful. That just wasn’t his style.

"So..." Ryusui's voice brought him back to the meeting room. He had leaned toward him, resting an elbow on the table with a serious air. Gen blinked, snapping out of his bubble.

Despite being the owner and main investor of the company, Gen had almost never seen him attend a meeting in person. His mere presence said enough: this was important.

"How long ago did you receive those messages?" he asked, with a calmness that only made the tension more evident.

Gen swallowed. For a moment, he thought about lying. Saying it was nothing. But his thumb unconsciously brushed the seam of the bandage on his arm, and he knew he couldn't keep ignoring it.

"Three days ago," he finally replied. "At first I thought it was someone playing a prank... but then more came."

Ryusui nodded slowly, intertwining his fingers. "We can't rule out that it's someone with access to your surroundings. Or someone who is watching you very closely."

Gen felt a chill run down his spine.

"Have you talked to that other guy?"

The question came this time from his manager, who had remained silent until then, sitting on the other side of the room, arms crossed and a hard expression. He was also the first person Gen ran to when the messages started arriving. And now he regretted it a little.

"Yes. But I'm sure he has nothing to do with this!" he hurried to say before either of them could scold him.

Ryusui watched him in silence. Then he said, with unusual gravity, "From what I've seen... this stalker has access to information that you yourself said you only told that Senku guy. Do you really think that's not enough proof? At least to be suspicious of him."

The silence was almost an uncomfortable buzz.

"Exactly," his manager chimed in, not missing a beat. "It's as simple as him using another number, another phone. He might be acting friendly with you just to get more information. Gain your trust. And then—"

Gen looked down at his hands. He squeezed the phone so hard his fingers trembled. The mere idea of imagining Senku behind all of that... no, it didn't fit. Not with the person he had shared so much with, even if it was behind a screen.

"He wouldn't be capable of that..." he murmured. But even he wasn't sure if he was trying to convince them... or himself.

Ryusui watched him intensely for a few seconds until his expression regained that confident spark so characteristic of him. He snapped his fingers sharply.

"Then we'll have to find another way."

"Wait, what?" The manager looked at him, completely stunned. "Are we just going to let this slide?"

Gen also looked up, surprised at how easily Ryusui was accepting everything.

"If Gen trusts him, then we do too," Ryusui replied, still smiling. "And if it turns out he's wrong... well, he'll bear the consequences. For now, it's best to act from the shadows. The stalker must not know we're looking for him. He has to think Gen is falling apart and hasn't told anyone."

"So what do you propose?" his manager asked, still wary. "We hire someone to track him down... and cancel Gen’s shows to make it look like he’s sinking on his own?"

"That's perfect!" exclaimed Ryusui, snapping his fingers again with a satisfied smile. As if it were all part of a fun strategy game.

"Wait, hold on!" Gen intervened, raising his voice. "We can't drag more people into this. And even less cancel my shows! Lilian is invited to the next one, did you forget that?"

"Once all this settles, we'll invite her again," Ryusui said with total ease, shrugging. "She's a sweetheart; she’ll surely understand."

The manager slumped back in his chair, letting out a long sigh. It was obvious that the idea of losing Lilian’s presence at the show was killing him inside.

"For now, Gen," Ryusui continued seriously, "you have to look destroyed. Broken. And when the stalker writes to you, you have to respond with fear. Beg, if necessary. If you ignore him, he’ll probably retaliate by publishing everything he knows."

Gen pressed his lips together, swallowing a discomfort that weighed on his chest.

"And can I... keep talking to Senku?"

His manager seemed about to flatly refuse, but Ryusui jumped in with his usual carefree tone.

"You won’t tell him anything about this or share more information with him, right?"

"No, sir," Gen replied, with such a serious and obedient expression that he looked like a child hoping to earn a candy for good behavior.

"Then it's fine."

"This is absurd," muttered the manager, crossing his arms, but he didn't insist further. Gen already had the green light, and truth be told, he would have kept talking to Senku even if they had forbidden him.

"Alright... and where are we going to find someone good with technology? Someone capable of finding this stalker’s location without raising suspicion."

"If I may interrupt..."

The three of them turned their heads toward Kinro, who had remained silent at the other end of the room. Gen had almost forgotten he was there.

"I know someone who could help with that."

The manager leaned forward, clearly on the verge of collapse. He looked like he desperately needed a cigarette.

"Is he trustworthy?"

"I don't know him personally," Kinro admitted, "but my brother can't stop talking about his super-intelligent friend from school. He even has a couple of awards. According to him, he's an honorable guy... he helped him get out of a pretty big mess he got himself into for being an idiot."

He didn’t seem very proud of that last part. "I don’t know exactly how he did it, but he managed to hack into a pretty important network. Tracking a number should be a piece of cake for him."

"And is it safe?" asked his manager, frowning.

"If he gets paid enough."

"Money isn't a problem, is it?" Gen looked at Ryusui, who replied with a broad, confident smile.

"Then it's settled," the manager sighed, resigned. "As long as you don't keep screwing up, Gen."

"Me?" Gen blinked with feigned innocence. "I'm just a victim. You should pity me."

Ryusui laughed and slapped the table enthusiastically.

"I adore you, Gen. But for now, act like you’re emotionally devastated. This stalker loves weakness."

"Fantastic," muttered Gen, leaning back in his chair, "I always dreamed of playing the tragic princess."

"And do it well," added his manager, crossing his arms. "Your career depends on it."

Gen smiled cynically but said nothing more. While the other two returned to talking about logistics, his mind wandered to a single name.

Senku.

He took out his phone and stared at it for a few seconds.

He just had to act normal. As always. Pretend nothing had happened.

But as he typed his next message, one thought kept repeating in his head:

I hope you weren't wrong about him.

“What about this shade?”

Charlotte studied carefully the two lipstick colors she was holding up to Gen’s face, hesitating for a moment before shaking her head.

“No… it should be something darker,” she finally said.

“But darling, you’ll make me look older.”

“It suits you,” she assured him, smiling softly. “Just trust me.”

At this point, Gen no longer trusted even his own reflection. But he didn’t argue further. He just sighed and closed his eyes, resigned, letting her work.

Charlotte leaned a little closer to his face, applying the color delicately. For a moment, the room went quiet before she spoke:

“Is it true you’re canceling your shows?”

Gen nodded, eyes still half-closed, sinking into the comfort of his chair. “Yes, it’s just a short break. Even stars have to dim their light every now and then.”

“I suppose,” she murmured.

When Gen finally opened his eyes, he was met with an oddly tense expression on Charlotte’s face. Her lips were tight, and the brush in her hand looked stiffer than usual.

“Still…” she added in a low voice, “you’ve never actually canceled your shows. Not even when you were really sick.”

“Have you been following me for a while, darling?” he asked with a tilted smile, mildly amused by the familiarity of her comment.

Charlotte flinched, and the brush slipped from her hand, landing on the floor with a soft thud.

“No, no! I just… did some research. I needed to know who I was going to work for, you know?” she said quickly, bending down to pick it up.

“Of course,” Gen replied, tilting his head with interest. “Very professional of you.”

Charlotte let out a soft, tense laugh. “I’m just trying to do my job well.”

He took one last glance at his reflection in the mirror, adjusted the collar of his jacket, and checked the time. It was time to go.

Gen stepped out of the dressing room with a confident stride, feeling surprisingly renewed. He’d be fine. He’d talk to that boy. They’d uncover the stalker’s identity and stop them before they could say or do anything worse.

...Were they definitely not breaking any laws?

His manager was waiting in the parking lot, enjoying a well-deserved cigarette, while Kinro stood beside him, as stoic as always. They got into the car in silence. Gen spent the whole ride glancing at his phone, eagerly waiting for a message from Senku. But there was still no reply.

He’s just busy, he told himself.

They followed Kinro’s directions until they reached a two-story house in a quiet area. It had a light-colored façade, wide windows covered by beige curtains, a small garden with well-tended flowers, and a clean porch with a hanging chair. There was something unusually warm about the place.

“This is where the hacker lives?” Gen asked, raising an eyebrow as he admired the setup with a mix of surprise and envy.

“No,” Kinro replied seriously. “It’s my house. I asked them to meet us here.”

“Wow,” Gen muttered. “Next goal: get a house as nice as this one.”

They entered the living room, decorated in soft tones, with bookshelves full of books and a plush carpet underfoot. The interior warmth matched the exterior perfectly. They were greeted by a smaller, friendlier version of Kinro: slightly tousled blond hair, an easy smile, and curious eyes.

“That’s my younger brother, Ginro,” Kinro explained, without further introductions. Ginro greeted them with a dazzling smile. Was this really the guy who needed a hacker to avoid jail?

On the couch, a nervous-looking boy was already seated, standing up as soon as they walked in. He wore a light gray jacket, tousled brown hair, and large glasses that threatened to slip off his nose. There was something of a chaotic genius about him.

“Hi! Nice to meet you,” he said with a slightly high-pitched voice, though full of enthusiasm. “I’m Chrome. And… uh, I’m going to help you with your… problem.”

Gen returned the smile, a bit more at ease.

“I hope you’re as good as they say, Chrome. Otherwise, I’ll have to cancel more shows. And that would break a lot of hearts.”

Chrome laughed nervously and glanced at Kinro for some support.

Kinro simply crossed his arms.

“Don’t worry,” Chrome said, adjusting his glasses with determination. “We’ll find that stalker. No matter how many layers they try to hide behind.”

“You’ve been speaking in plural,” the manager interrupted, folding his arms. “Will someone else be involved in this?”

Chrome nodded, and the movement made his glasses slip again. He adjusted them without losing his smile. “Yes… My partner is a bit busy right now. But as soon as we have the necessary data, we’ll get to work properly.”

“And what data do you need exactly?”

“The phone receiving the messages.” Chrome raised his hand, confidently. “In other words, your phone.”

Gen hesitated, reaching into his pocket but not pulling the device out.

“Do you really need the physical device? And… for how long?”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Chrome waved it off with a chuckle. “I’ll just make a backup. You’ll have it back in a few minutes.”

Gen sighed and finally handed it over. The phone was warm from use, and suddenly it felt like he’d given away a part of himself.

There were his most important messages… and also his most embarrassing ones. Ridiculous conversations at three in the morning, private jokes with Senku, emotional comments he never thought anyone else would read.

It’s for the greater good, he told himself, as if that could calm the knot in his stomach.

He just hoped—prayed—that the conversations with Senku and the stalker’s messages didn’t lead to the same person.

If they did…

No.

They wouldn’t.

Gen collapsed heavily onto his bed. At least one thing had gone well today.

Chrome—how he’d introduced himself—seemed trustworthy and good at what he did. All he needed was his laptop, a few cables plugged into Gen’s phone, and in just a few minutes, he handed the device back, assuring him they were already working on tracing the stalker’s identity.

According to the guy, he hadn’t stolen any compromising information; he’d only made a copy of the most recent chats. And saved a couple of necessary files.

And now that Gen didn’t have any scheduled shows, he could say he was on some sort of improvised vacation.

Yay!

The familiar notification sound (one he had grown used to) filled his apartment, and Gen snatched up the phone, ready to reply. Although the feeling of mistrust—and guilt—was still there.

Mistrust, because there was still the possibility that Senku was involved.

Guilt, because if he wasn’t, Gen had just handed over all their private conversations to a stranger.

The screen lit up.

Gen smiled faintly and typed back.

Senku read the messages almost four hours later. It was midnight, and he barely had enough energy to move. But money was money. And, after all, he couldn’t leave things half-done.

With the lights off, only the pale glow of his computer lit up his desk. To one side, a mug of strong coffee trembled in his hand as he opened the compressed folder Chrome had sent him.

Inside was everything promised: copies of recent chats, a few archived conversations, phone log files, basic metadata like timestamps and connection locations, and even some recovered attachments.

It was so much information that Senku could ruin the illusionist’s career if he wanted to.

He huffed, rubbing his temples.

“Let’s start with the basics…” he muttered, clicking straight into the recent chats folder. It was the easiest part—find the conversation with the stalker, extract clues. Standard procedure.

A couple of clicks, a few quick filters.

The open chats appeared in a list.

Then he saw it.

His own name.

In the header of one of the chats.

“Dear Senku—”

Senku stopped blinking. A part of his brain tried to rationalize it. How many Senkus are there in the world? Maybe it was another guy?

But the cold shiver crawling down his spine didn’t give him time for more excuses. He opened the chat.

And read.

Line after line.

Messages he remembered.

Messages he had written.

Holy shit.

Chapter Text

In the middle of the night, surrounded by open books, tangled wires and screens still flickering with lines of data, Senku lay sprawled out on the floor of his room. The ceramic tiles were cold against his back, but he needed that. He needed something to ground him, to keep him connected. Before his own thoughts drove him insane.

His eyes were open, fixed on the ceiling, but all he could see was that name on the screen. Gen Asagiri. His voice still echoed in his head, he had met him, laughed with him, only to insult him the next day through texts without knowing he was basically doing it to his face.

It wasn’t possible.

But it was. The messages, the style, the details. Every word in that chat Chrome had sent him. And the worst part was that he hadn’t seen it coming. He had been talking to him this whole time. To him.

He felt something meow on top of his chest. His cat, as orange and fat as ever, was looking down at him with those silently judgmental eyes. The animal dropped heavily onto him, pressing down on his torso with total indifference.

Senku groaned, lifting him up with effort.
“What the hell do I do now, Manganese?”
The cat stared at him mercilessly, as if he already knew the answer: nothing good.

Senku held him close. He wasn’t an emotional person, but something about that revelation had knocked the wind out of him. How the hell was he supposed to face Kinro now?

…Kinro?

Where the hell had that name come from?

And why had he lied to him in the first place?!

Scratch that last one.

Gen had plenty of reasons to lie to him.

Too many, even.

That didn’t make it any more acceptable.

Senku sat up, legs crossed, the cat still lying on him like a furry shield against a nervous breakdown. He ran his hands through his hair, messing it up more than usual. His heart was still pounding, like his body was trying to process what his mind still refused to accept.

The file was still open.

The chat, too.

“Dear Senku…”

Fucking. Hell.

He’d read it a thousand times, responded to it a thousand more. Those messages, which once felt like a small escape from the chaos of his world, now had a completely different texture.

Had it all been part of Gen’s game? Did the guy enjoy pretending to be someone else?

The silence in the room was filled by the buzzing of his phone.
Senku didn’t need to check it to know who it was.

His first reaction was a visceral urge to grab the phone and smash it against the wall. His second reaction, the dumbest and most traitorous, was a pang of concern and the need to scold the guy for being up at this hour, when they had spent so long trying to improve his insomnia.

With a sigh, he pushed Manganese off his chest. The cat let out an offended meow, as if trying to warn him that he was about to do something stupid. Or maybe he was just protesting being moved from his favorite spot.

Senku didn’t care. He grabbed the phone. Didn’t even unlock the screen, just read from the notification bar. A couple of theories about his new job.

Now he really wanted to rip his head off.

Shit, technically now he works for Gen, doesn’t he?

Goddamn it.

God. Damn. It.

He dropped back down, this time on the mattress, and Manganese climbed back onto his stomach without asking, settling in like someone who had no intention of listening to complaints.

Senku wasn’t going to complain. He didn’t have the energy for that.

The glow of the computer was still on in the background, files still open. The coffee mug, abandoned and cold. The notifications kept vibrating insistently beside him.

And still… he turned off the screen.

Placed the phone face down.

There was no point in reading more.

He knew he wasn’t going to sleep.

But at least he could try.

He didn’t sleep a damn bit.

The alarm had gone off several times before his father finally entered the room with a single, dry push of the door.

“Senku! Did you stay up late again?” he scolded, arms crossed. “You’re going to be late for school!”

Senku just raised his hand from the bed in a lazy wave. His eyes burned from having spent hours without a wink of sleep. His whole body protested when he finally dragged himself to the shower. The cold water didn’t help much, but at least it forced him to move.

He got ready as best as he could. Wrinkled shirt, half-zipped backpack, deep dark circles. Before leaving his room, he gave Manganese a quick pet, who remained on the bed, watching him like a witness to a crime.

Just when he was about to grab the doorknob, his phone vibrated.

Different tone. Not Kinro.

Either Gen or whoever he was now.

The message was from Chrome, which at least allowed for a sigh.

Senku grimaced and left his backpack by the door. He walked over to his desk, turned on the computer again and, with a restrained sigh, opened the backup folder where Chrome saved everything new he extracted.

There were three new messages.

Another message popped up, this time from Gen.

The chat stayed like that for a few minutes…

Don’t answer.

Don’t do it.

Another message appeared.

“Wait, wait!” exclaimed Chrome, trying to keep up. “Kinro is actually Gen Asagiri?! You’ve been talking to Asagiri this whole time?!”

“Shut up, Chrome!” Senku hissed desperately, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “No one can know about this!”

“But this is insane! And he’s pretending to be you! That’s identity theft! That’s defamation, Senku!” He was waving his hands around, agitated. “Seriously, when I saw your name as a contact in the chat, I thought it was some absurd coincidence, but this…”

Senku closed his eyes and began counting mentally. One. Two. Three…

“You said you spoke to Asagiri in person, didn’t you?”

Chrome nodded quickly, still not lowering his voice:

“Yeah, when I went to Ginro’s house.”

Senku froze. The pieces clicked together like a sharp blow to the back of the head. Ginro. Ginro, whose brother works for a celebrity.

That celebrity is Gen.

Gen.

Kinro.

Goddammit.

Doesn’t that idiot have any originality with names?!

“Hey,” Chrome waved a hand in front of his face, worried. “Are you okay? You’re going pale.”

Senku let out a dry, humorless laugh and started walking again.

“I’m fine,” he muttered. “Though I need to talk to the magician. Urgently.”

Chrome blinked. “You’re going to tell him who you are?”

Senku stopped, looked at the ground for a few seconds, then raised his head, serious. “I don’t want to. Not yet. But this is already getting out of control. Whoever’s behind this might know exactly who I am… and they’re using it.”

Chrome crossed his arms, absorbing what that meant. Senku continued:

“And remember I can’t get into any trouble with celebrities, right?”

“Right.” Chrome nodded gravely. “If they find out you’re technically Lilian’s stepson…”

“Shhh!” Senku cut him off immediately, looking around in alarm. “Don’t say it so loud. You want me dragged into a media scandal?”

Chrome raised both hands in peace. “Okay, okay. Got it. No pop star names shouted in public hallways. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We might be lucky and the stalker doesn’t actually know you—maybe they just used your name because Asagiri was talking to you.”

Senku huffed, clenching his teeth. Luck usually wasn’t on his side.

Chrome watched him for another moment, then stepped back.

“Whatever. I’ll tell him who I am and then cut all contact with him.”

“You’re going to stop talking to him? What about the job?”

“He can get someone else to do it.” Senku tried to make his voice sound firm. He didn’t want to do it, but it was his best option.

Chrome hesitated but ended up nodding. “Alright. Leave it to me,” he said. “They gave me an emergency contact in case we had any news. I can get you a conversation with Asagiri.”

Senku didn’t respond, but his expression softened just a bit. Chrome was already at the end of the hallway when he turned around one more time.

“Start thinking about what you’re going to say, genius. ‘Hi, I’m the guy who’s been chatting with you for months’ isn’t going to cut it.” He winked. “And please, don’t blow anything up before I get back.”

As he disappeared down the hallway, Yuzuriha peeked in from the other end, visibly relieved to find Senku. She gave him a small wave and approached at a quick pace.

“There you are!” she exclaimed with a relieved smile. “Taiju and I have been looking all over the school for you.”

Senku looked at her, confused. “Why?”

“Well…” She hesitated. “It’s club time and you’re not in the lab.”

“Oh.” Senku looked away. “I don’t have any pending projects.” He lied. “So I’m heading home.”

“Wait!” Yuzuriha quickly stepped in his path, a firm expression on her face. “It’s been a while since we’ve done anything together. We could go grab something to eat, don’t you think?”

“Yuzuriha…” Senku frowned, uncomfortable.

“Please.” The plea in her voice was clear. “You’ve been so busy lately. With your project, and with Kinro… Taiju is basically desperate to talk to you. We don’t even know if you’re okay!”

Senku felt a stab of guilt. He raised his hand gently, stopping her before she could continue. He sighed.

“Alright. Alright.”

Yuzuriha smiled in relief. Though Senku could also hear the pride in her laugh. For her, dragging Senku out of his comfort zone was an achievement. “Then let’s go! I’ll message Taiju so he can wait for us at the ramen stand.”

Before Senku could object or find an excuse, she took his arm and began leading him out of the building. He followed without resistance. They walked in silence along the cobbled path that connected the school buildings to the main street. Outside, the air was warm—one of those afternoons when the sun was already starting to set, but still left a golden glow on the metal surfaces.

They passed by the local theater, and just as they turned the corner, Senku stopped dead in his tracks.

It completely stole the spotlight.

A new, huge poster displayed in the lit glass window.

ASAGIRI GEN – LIVE EXPERIENCE / NEW SEASON – NEW FORMAT.

And below, dominating the entire image, the mentalist’s face.

But it wasn’t the Gen Senku had seen that night on stage. This version was different. More polished, more... distant. The makeup was heavier, the eyes lined until they looked sharp, the lips painted in a strong shade. A serious, composed expression, almost intimidating.

Senku felt his stomach knot.

He didn’t even look like the Gen he had met a couple of weeks ago.

And yet, he looked spectacular.

"Senku?"

Yuzuriha’s voice pulled him out of the trance. She looked at him with a frown and gave him a small tap on the shoulder with the back of her hand. "Are you okay? You suddenly froze."

Senku blinked. He met her gaze, but didn’t respond immediately. He looked again at the poster in front of him. At that impersonal, brilliant version of Gen Asagiri.

Then, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

He pulled it out only to find more joke messages from the guy desperate to guess his job

Kinro. No. Gen, he was still talking to him, still trusting him despite everything.

Good. Damn it. He’s going to fix this.

"Sorry, Yuzuriha." He turned to her and stepped aside. "I swear I’ll join you next time. But I need to do something right now. Something important. I’ll tell you everything soon."

"Huh? But—"

She reached a hand out to him, surprised.

But Senku had already started running. He had to get home. Find out whatever he could to track down whoever was behind this.

With the wind hitting his face and his phone screen lit up. With Gen’s unread messages still there.

This time, Senku didn’t hesitate.

He was going to help his friend.

Senku rested his elbow on the table, massaging his temple with his fingers as he checked, for the umpteenth time, the files he had gathered about the stalker. Unfortunately, there weren’t many. The messages came from temporary accounts, with no traceable history, and the IPs were masked by rotating VPNs. Everything was so carefully anonymous that, for an average user, it would be like chasing smoke. And for someone like him… only slightly less frustrating.

He needed more time. That’s all. Time to discover something useful, time for Chrome to confirm the meeting with Asagiri, time to prove he wasn’t the stalker. But until then, he had to preserve the only advantage he had: Gen’s trust. Because if Gen ever thought—even for a second—that Senku was the stalker, he’d block him instantly. And if they talked face to face, he’d tell him to go to hell without even giving him a chance to explain.

He couldn’t let that happen.

So, for now, it was best to keep earning his trust.

Senku set the phone down for a moment, his fingers tapping on the table. Gen wasn’t just guessing. He was really paying attention.

You’re just entertaining him, he bitterly reminded himself.

Senku let out a soft exhale. Gen still trusted him. And for now, that was all he needed.

“You going out now?” His father’s voice stopped him just as Senku was walking past the living room. He was watching him with a serious expression, arms crossed and a slight frown on his face. Beside him, Lillian had a completely different attitude, sitting with her legs crossed and a radiant smile, relaxed as always, holding a half-empty cup of tea in her hands.

“Oh, let him go, he’s a teenager,” she chimed in lightly, rising gracefully from the sofa. She smoothed down her dress with a quick motion and turned to Senku. “And I actually have to go out too. How about I give you a ride?”

Senku hesitated a moment. Chrome had texted him a few minutes ago with an address and a set time, and he was already running late. He sighed in resignation. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Fine.”

Both adults exchanged a glance, surprised. It was clear this wasn’t a common occurrence. Senku accepting company—and letting someone drive him—was, by all accounts, a small historical event.

“I’ll grab my keys,” Lillian said cheerfully, nearly skipping toward the coat rack.

Senku put on his jacket without looking at his father, who now watched him in silence. There was a slight nod, barely perceptible. A kind of silent approval. Or maybe just relief to see him doing something besides locking himself in his room.

They left together for the building’s parking lot. Lillian unlocked the car with a beep, and they both got in without saying much else. He fastened his seatbelt while looking out the window, while she started the engine and played some soft music, humming quietly.

“Where am I taking you?”

Senku thought for a moment. In truth, it didn’t really matter if she found out a bit.

“To Nanami Entertainment.”

Lillian turned her face slightly toward him, surprised, though she didn’t take her eyes off the road.

“If I’m not being too nosy… what are you going to do there?”

Senku leaned back in the seat. “Remember Asagiri?”

“Oh, yes! The charming boy from the party.” She smiled with that warm tone of hers. “I was waiting for an invite to his show, but he pushed the dates back. A real shame. You two seemed to get along. Are you going to see him?”

Senku nearly laughed. And she said she didn’t want to sound nosy. “Actually, yes. I’m helping him with a job.”

Lillian glanced at him sideways, this time with a gentler, almost maternal look. “So you’re still in touch. That’s good.” She paused, then continued in a more thoughtful tone. “You know, I’m glad you decided to get close to someone like him. Being famous isn’t as fun as people think.”

Senku raised an eyebrow, unsure where she was going with this.

“It’s easy for people to adore you and consume you, but it’s just as easy for them to forget you or use you,” she explained, eyes on the road. “And not everyone sees you as a person. Sometimes you’re just a name, an image, something they can mold or attack. It’s exhausting. Lonely, even.”

Senku said nothing.

“If Gen trusts you, take care of that. Don’t push him away. Maybe even he doesn’t realize how much he needs someone outside the stage.”

There was a moment of silence. Senku looked down at the lit phone on his lap. Gen’s name was still there—he had recently changed the contact.

“We’re not that close.”

Lillian let out a quiet chuckle. “That’s already more than most people do.”

They turned onto the main avenue. Nanami Entertainment was just a few blocks away.

“Drop me off at the corner,” Senku said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I don’t want them to think I’m showing up with my famous bodyguard.”

Lillian laughed as she braked. “Then good luck, Mr. Scientist.” She winked. “Tell me everything, okay?”

Senku didn’t reply, got out of the car, closed the door, and watched her drive away. Then he looked toward the building in front of him and took a deep breath.

Alright, here we go.

This place was amazing.

From the outside, the Nanami Entertainment building might look like just a modern, well-funded media company. But inside… it was a symphony of technology, precision, and clever design.

Senku wandered aimlessly through the recording rooms, caught between tinted glass walls, screens embedded into surfaces, and lights that turned on by themselves as he passed. He hadn’t found anyone in the lobby—no receptionist, no signboards—so, with his usual confidence, he decided to find his way on his own.

Big mistake. He ended up getting lost.

“Can I help you?”
He turned around, relieved, to see a well-dressed blonde girl walking toward him, observing him with curiosity.

“Uh… yeah, I have a meeting with Gen Asagiri.”
She frowned for a few seconds but then smiled again.

“Sure, of course. Follow me.”
She turned on her heels and started down one of the hallways.

“I must say, I’m a little surprised. Mr. Asagiri usually doesn’t handle things personally.”
“Do you work with him?” Senku asked, picking up his pace to catch up.

“Yes, I’m his makeup artist,” she answered proudly. “Although, really, I’m the person he trusts the most.”
Senku raised an eyebrow. Gen had never mentioned anyone like that.

“This way,” the young woman said as she stepped into the elevator. She pressed one of the buttons without hesitation.

“I must say, you looked pretty lost. What exactly are you here for?”

He glanced at her sideways, trying to gauge her tone.

“Didn’t you just say you and Asagiri are close?”
A nervous laugh slipped from her lips.

“Yes, yes… of course. But I don’t really keep up with his business matters, that’s all.”

Senku didn’t reply. He just watched the floor numbers go up, wondering why something about this girl didn’t sit right with him.

As soon as the elevator stopped, Senku thought about stepping out immediately, but she stopped him.

“May I have your name? It’s for security.”
The question caught him off guard, but he needed to get to the meeting quickly, so he answered, “Senku. Senku Ishigami.”

The girl’s eyes lit up, and her smile widened with a familiarity that made him uncomfortable.

“Perfect. See you later, dear Senku.”

A chill ran down his spine at the sound of that nickname coming from her mouth. The elevator doors closed with a soft click, erasing her figure far too easily.

Shit.

She had said she was Asagiri’s confidant.

Did that mean she knew about the messages?

Senku barely had time to gather his thoughts when a side door suddenly flew open, and a familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Ishigami!”
Senku nearly jumped.

Gen was there. In person. His makeup was flawless, his outfit flashy but elegant, and his smile… his smile wasn’t the same as the one on the poster. It was warm. Human. And he was walking toward him with steady steps and an expression of surprise and amusement.

“What are you doing here? Did you miss me?” he teased. “Sorry for canceling my shows. I promise I’ll invite you front row as soon as I get new dates.”

Senku swallowed. He never thought he’d be nervous just by being this close. But he was. More than he wanted to admit.

“I…” he forced himself to keep his voice steady, “I have a meeting with you.”

Gen blinked, surprised.

“I’m supposed to have a meeting for something very, very private.”

“About your stalker?” Senku blurted out without thinking, too focused on not looking down.

He didn’t have time to regret it. In an instant, Gen gently pushed him into a nearby room, and the door shut loudly behind them.

“You’re Chrome’s dear friend?!” the mentalist exclaimed, eyes wide.

“…Surprise, I guess.”

Senku scanned his face. Gen looked genuinely shocked. Not just surprised… but tense, worried. It seemed the idea of someone else knowing about his situation put him on edge.

“You can’t…” Gen lowered his voice, stepping closer. “You can’t talk about that where anyone might hear.”

“Is this place safe?” Senku asked, hoping to sound more confident.

“Yes, it is. But to talk, we need to wait for Nanami and my manager to arrive. We’ll be alone for a while, dear.”

Good. That’s good, he thought.

He could tell Gen the truth.

Yes, I’m the one who’s been chatting with you. Crazy coincidence, right? Well, now let’s talk about finding the person pretending to be me and trying to expose all your secrets.
Easy, right?

Not at all.

Gen was an overwhelming presence in front of him. And even though back when they met in the bathroom at that party it had been so easy to talk, now he could barely hold his gaze.

“Did you read the last messages they sent me?”
Senku looked at him. He nodded slowly.
It was now or never.

“I…”

“The stalker said their name was Senku.”

Gen’s voice cut him off—calm, but firm.

“Don’t believe them. It’s not him.”

Senku blinked, confused.

“Huh? How can you be so sure?” he asked, curious.

Gen let out a short, humorless laugh. Then he looked him straight in the eyes.

“Because the dear Senku would never do something like that to me. You don’t know him, but he’s… brilliant. Honest. There’s no reason to doubt him. We don’t need to investigate him.”

Senku felt a strange pang in his chest.
How ironic.

“You trust someone you don’t even know that much?”
Gen held his gaze for a few seconds, without a hint of doubt.

“That can be fixed.”

Before Senku could understand what he meant, Gen was already pulling his phone out of his pocket.

Senku caught a glimpse of his name at the top of the open chat, right before Gen started typing, a serene smile on his lips.

His heart leapt to his throat.

And he was more grateful than ever that his phone was on silent mode.

Chapter Text

Tick… tock.

They’ve been here for a good ten minutes now.

Gen is getting bored.

He had thought that being locked up with Ishigami again would be fun. But the boy was so stoic in his seat, he almost looked like a centuries-old stone statue. So, not wanting to bother him, he decided not to speak.

He couldn’t deny he was still surprised to see him here, but he couldn’t say it was impossible either. Ishigami had said he wanted to reach space, so it wouldn’t be strange for him to have hacking skills. Still, seeing the type of jobs he was willing to take on surprised him a little. He’s the nephew of the one and only Lilian Weinberg, for God’s sake—surely he can get something better.

Speaking of jobs…

Gen quickly searched through his bag for his precious soda while still thinking. Senku hadn’t replied yet, but around this time the boy was usually busy with his tasks, so he didn’t worry too much. Maybe he rushed things a bit by suggesting they meet tomorrow. Gen was still on his improvised vacation, but Senku must be busy being a brainiac.

Gen grabbed his phone quickly to send a new message, not ignoring the slight jolt from Ishigami at the action.

Even so, he had a bet to win, and he didn’t plan on finding out what kind of things the teenager would make him do if he lost. A favor, in exchange for figuring out his job. Gen opened the can, thankful it was still cold. He could get a lot out of this. What would he ask for? Some invention to help him with his shows? Or something humiliating like forcing him to be his servant for a week?

Or maybe…

A date?

He could grab a couple of his books and fulfill that thought he had the other day…
Calm down, Gen! The boy hasn’t even replied yet!
And he still has to find out if Senku will even want to keep talking to him once he knows who he really is.
Aaah… His head is starting to hurt.

A dry cough caught his attention.

“Is something wrong, darling?” he asked with his usual smile. He could swear the cute boy’s face turned red. How odd. Had he been drinking the last time they saw each other? He seemed way more confident back then.

He cleared his throat. “You shouldn’t be drinking that.”

Gen tilted his head toward the can, confused. “Cola? I know it’s harmful in the long run…”

“Actually,” Ishigami interrupted, “a single can can have up to 35 grams of sugar, which shoots your blood glucose up like a rocket. Plus, caffeine and phosphoric acid affect calcium absorption and damage your bones. And let’s not even talk about dental enamel,” he said seriously.

Gen blinked. “How cute.”

“Cute?”

Before Gen could start defending his sacred beverage, the door opened and three tall, intimidating-looking men walked in. Though each of them was lovely in their own way.

Being the good host he liked to believe he was, Gen set aside the discussion on caffeine hazards and stood up with a charming smile.

“Darling Ishigami, allow me to introduce the only people—besides you and your partner—who know about this… little issue,” he announced with a theatrical gesture, motioning to the newcomers.

Ishigami stood too, stiff.

“You already know Nanami,” Gen continued casually, pointing at the blond who entered. “This one here is my manager. He may look terrifying, but don’t worry—he only takes it out on me. And last but not least… this is my bodyguard, Kinro.”

Ishigami choked on his own saliva and started coughing violently.

“Are you okay?” Gen approached immediately, stepping toward him with the intent to help, but the boy pulled away as if burned.

“Yeah, yeah…” he answered quickly, though his voice was raspier than usual. And he definitely didn’t sound sincere.

“Why exactly wasn’t Kinro with you, Gen?”

“Oh, right. I asked him to run a quick errand,” he said lightly, just as the mentioned man handed him a bag with evident resignation.

Kinro, expressionless as a marble statue, handed over the bag with several cans of cola and a couple of chips packets.

“What? I was hungry,” he defended himself from the man’s serious look while handing out drinks, secretly enjoying giving a can to Ishigami.

The manager raised an eyebrow.

“There’s literally someone stalking you out there, and you send your bodyguard to buy you chips and soda.”

Then he turned to Kinro, with a mix of disbelief and disapproval.

“And why do you go along with it?”

Kinro looked at him for a second before answering with monastic seriousness:

“He said if he didn’t eat, he’d get unbearable.”

“And he was right!” added Gen with a triumphant smile, raising his bag of chips like a trophy. “See? I’m a food security case.”

“You’re a case, alright,” Ryusui sighed proudly as he grabbed his own can and bag. “But you are useful.”

Gen ignored the mockery and turned to Ishigami with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t want any? Or are you going to keep judging me with that scientific martyr look?”

Ishigami awkwardly accepted the bag, still silent.

Gen smiled.

One step closer.

Now he really was getting bored.

Ishigami seemed truly rushed to show results, which turned out to be just: “This person knows exactly what they’re doing, so it’ll take a bit longer to find them.”

While Ryusui discussed with the manager what their next move should be, and Ishigami alternated between checking his phone and typing on his computer with the intensity of someone trying to ignore the world, Gen decided it was the perfect moment to check his own phone.

No one was paying attention to him. Perfect.

Hey! Senku had replied!

A spark of excitement ran through him as he quickly unlocked the phone.

Gen blinked.

Damn vengeful man.

He hit send and leaned back tiredly against the seat, sighing in disappointment as he noticed his bag of chips was empty.

“Trouble with your digital lover?” Ryusui asked without even looking at him, still going over some documents the manager had handed him.

“He’s not my lover. Yet...” Gen replied with amusement.

His manager glanced at him sideways, letting out a heavy sigh and rolling his eyes with the resignation of someone too tired to correct a functional adult.

Ishigami, on the other hand, subtly tensed his shoulders. He pretended to be focused on the laptop screen, but Gen knew enough body language to notice that trembling finger hovering just above the trackpad had nothing to do with a system error.

“What I think we should consider here,” Ryusui’s voice beside him pulled him out of his analysis, “is that this person claimed to be Senku. But Senku is still texting you normally.”

“Exactly,” Gen toyed with his phone, spinning it between his fingers. “I’ve already told Ishigami: there’s no reason to investigate dear Senku...”

“That also tells us something else,” the pretty boy interrupted him. “The stalker doesn’t have access to your messages right now.”

Gen blinked, stopping the phone’s spin in his hand. At first, he didn’t fully get what he meant. But then his eyes dropped to the phone screen, still lit with Senku’s latest message, and something clicked.

Of course.

That explained it.

The stalker had used Senku’s name… but if they actually had access to his conversations, they’d know that he and Senku had never stopped talking.

And if they knew that, there’d be no point in trying to impersonate him.

Not if they wanted Gen to fall for the trap.

So it wasn’t just a coincidence or a vague assumption: it was a concrete clue. A crack in the stalker’s plan. It meant that, at least for now, they couldn’t see what Gen saw. They couldn’t read what he was writing.

“What do you mean?” the manager asked.

“If the stalker could see my messages, they’d never have claimed to be Senku. Because they’d know I never stopped talking to him,” Gen explained.

“That would’ve been the rational reaction,” his manager muttered, and Gen just smiled.

“I think that even if they know how to protect themselves, they’re acting purely on instinct. They threatened to expose you, didn’t they?” Ishigami asked, and Gen nodded in response. “But they haven’t done it.”

“Does that mean they don’t want to hurt Gen?” the manager asked.

“I think...” Gen replied, “that they haven’t because they can’t. They don’t have any proof.”

“It’s someone who apparently only had access to your phone once and decided to take advantage of it.”

“Wait, I’ll try something,” Ishigami focused on his computer again, and the other two men returned to their documents. Meanwhile Kinro… was still eating chips. Gen envied him.

The brief vibration of his phone against his leg drew Gen’s attention back to his messages.

Another reply.

Oh, Senku was in a mood today!

Gen snorted through his nose, pretending to be annoyed though a smile danced on his lips. He rested his elbow on the armrest and leaned slightly to the side, as if that helped him focus better on the screen.

Ryusui let out a soft whistle. Apparently, the bastard was done with his work and now poked his head over like a gossip.

“Wow. You’re flirting over text while literally being stalked by a lunatic?”

“Multitasking is an underrated skill,” Gen replied with a wink, waiting for Senku’s answer.

“Incredible,” his manager muttered, slamming a folder shut.

At that moment, Ishigami’s laptop let out a sharp ping. A new notification. Something had caught his attention instantly.

“What is it?” Ryusui asked as he saw the boy straighten up.

“An IP address,” Ishigami replied. “And a recent signal. The stalker… connected again.”

Gen set the phone aside.

“Where?”

Ishigami swallowed and turned the screen toward them.

“They’re three blocks away.”

Gen is sure he’s never run this much in his life.

As soon as Ishigami uttered those words, the five of them stood up almost in unison and bolted from the room. Gen barely had time to grab his jacket before Ryusui grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him down the stairs—because the damn elevator was busy.

They rushed down, dodging a couple of workers ending their shifts who looked at them like they were fugitives. The night air greeted them with a wave of warm humidity as they crossed the street, guided by the location Ishigami had open on his phone.

The address led them to a still-active commercial area, crowded with bright shops and pedestrians carrying bags. Background music, laughter, hurried footsteps. All the noise of a living city. He knew the place well—he got his favorite coffee nearby every morning.

Gen clicked his tongue.

Shit.

Finding one person in that crowd would be impossible.

“We should split up,” his manager said, taking the lead and walking quickly.

“And how exactly are we supposed to know who it is?” Ryusui protested, still breathing hard from the sprint.

“Maybe look for someone with a suspicious face,” Gen joked, not very convincingly.

“It’s not that simple,” Ishigami interjected, still looking at his phone. “But… wait.”

He stopped for a moment, fingers flying over the screen.

“I’ve got the name of their network,” he announced, showing them the screen with a tense gesture.

Gen froze.

GEN

That was the name of the network. All caps. No attempt to hide it.

“Shit… whoever’s behind this, that person’s insane.”

“If we search for that network on our phones, we can narrow down the crowd,” Ishigami continued. “So yeah, splitting up is a good idea.”

“But it could be dangerous,” Ryusui replied, weighing the possibilities. Then he snapped his fingers energetically, as if struck by a brilliant idea. “Got it! Gen, you go with Ishigami. Since you’re both twigs, take Kinro with you. And we two will go together.” He pointed to himself and the manager.

Gen chuckled quietly at the grimace the pretty boy didn’t bother to hide.

“Oh come on, darling. It won’t be that bad,” he said with a smile as he took his arm. Ishigami didn’t pull away… but he didn’t relax either.

They split into two groups and started walking, each of them scanning the surroundings with their phones raised, searching for that cursed network.

Until Gen noticed something.

A figure, alone, leaning against a glass wall, apparently checking their phone… but barely moving, almost imperceptibly. They were standing right on the edge of a closed store, like they wanted to blend in without actually being there.

They weren’t shopping. They weren’t waiting for anyone. And they weren’t looking at the windows.

The person looked up and, upon locking eyes with Gen, immediately looked away.

“…Ishigami,” he muttered, stopping. “I’m going to check something.”

“What?”

“Just… stay with Kinro. I’m five steps away. If anything happens, call.”

“Gen?”

But he was already walking away.

He moved with firm but casual strides. He didn’t want to look like he was following the person, even though he clearly was. The figure started walking.

Gen clenched his teeth. Were they fleeing? Teasing him?

When they turned at the next corner, he finally caught up.

He strode forward and grabbed the person by the arm, forcing them to turn around with a bit more force than necessary.

As soon as he saw their face, he froze.

It was an old man.

Gray-haired, wrinkled, clearly confused… and now also very offended.

“Excuse me?” the man snapped, with such pure indignation that for a second Gen felt like he had insulted his entire family line.

Oh. Apparently, he had said that last part out loud.

“Who are you?”

The man yanked his arm away.

“Me?” he asked, as if Gen had just accused him of a crime. “Who the hell are you?”

“You don’t know me?”

“Of course not! And believe me, if I did, I’d call your parents and tell them how rude you are! Now let me go!”

“Wait, wait, old man—”

“Don’t call me that!”

Gen pulled out his own phone, searching for the network, only to find a single one available, from a generic cell name.

It told him nothing.

He glanced at the phone in the old man’s hands and weighed his options.

Well… what else did he have to lose now?

With a quick move, he snatched the phone from the man and started running.

Goddamn it! He must be seventy! Why is he so fast?

As he ran, he began checking the phone with both hands, trying to find which network it was connected to. He was so focused on the screen he forgot to look ahead.

And then he crashed hard into something.

Or rather, into someone.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Asagiri?!”

Gen looked up, slightly dazed, and met Ishigami’s eyes. The glow of a streetlight lit part of his face, casting sharp shadows over his serious features.

Wow, even at night he looks incredible.

“Catch him, young man!” shouted the old man, now quite close. “He stole my phone!”

Fucking old man.

The look Ishigami gave him was pure confusion.

“Check it!” Gen said quickly, shoving the phone into his hands.

“He’s a thief too?!”

“What?! No!”

“Then give me back my phone!”

“Check it first!” Gen insisted.

Ishigami frowned and started checking.

Several long, tense seconds passed.

The old man kept muttering threats about “the lost youth” and “how thieves used to at least have manners.”

“…Nothing,” Ishigami finally said. “It’s only connected to ‘iPhone12’. No other networks open.”

Gen buried his face in his hand.

“So I just robbed an innocent old man!”

“Yes,” Ishigami replied, deadpan. “Yes, you did.”

“And wearing such an expensive outfit! This is a scandal!”

“ARE YOU GIVING ME BACK MY PHONE OR WHAT?!”

Gen handed the phone back instantly, gave the man a couple of pats on the shoulder, and smiled.

“You’ve got enviable lungs, sir. My respects. Have a good night.”

And without waiting for a reply, he turned around with the same dignity he had lost ten minutes earlier, Ishigami following him, still incredulous.

“Are you seriously going to pretend that didn’t happen?”

“I’m choosing peace, Ishigami.”

“God, you’re worse than I thought.”

“What did you do what?!”

“Sorry, I thought it was him. He looked really suspicious.”

“Apart from that… why did you move away from the others when we literally just talked about the dangers of splitting up?”

“I already said I’m sorry…” Gen apologized with a smile he didn’t bother to pretend was sincere. “And hey, what happened with you guys?” he asked Ishigami directly, changing the subject.

“I don’t know if your commotion had anything to do with it, but the network completely went down.”

Shit.

Gen cursed himself internally.

They had lost their chance.

“Anyway, it’s late now.” Ryusui stretched. “Everyone go home. Looks like you have more information now, Ishigami. Think you’ll be able to catch the culprit soon?”

“If that person logs in again, I’ll be able to get closer.”

“Perfect. Then I’m off.” And he left walking with the manager behind him, both looking exhausted.

“I’ll leave too.” Kinro made a brief bow and Gen waved goodbye.

Yes, it was already late.

He turned to Ishigami, ready to ask if he wanted a ride, but he was in the middle of a call that seemed important because his brow was really furrowed.

It didn’t look good like that.

While waiting, a hand on his shoulder made him jump slightly. At this hour, he thought, everyone should have left already. But there was Charlotte, smiling sweetly, with a cup of coffee in her hand.

“What are you doing here, Charlotte? Your work shift ended hours ago.”

“I stayed because I wanted to try some new techniques,” she said, making a small gesture with the hand holding her phone, as if downplaying it. “And when I was leaving, I passed by that café you like and thought I’d bring you some.”

“Are you an angel? I really needed this.” He took a sip. It was just how he liked it.

Charlotte seemed about to say more, when suddenly a voice cut into the conversation:

“Asagiri, take me home.”

How polite.

“Of course I will, dear.”

Gen turned to Charlotte, still smiling. “And you? Want us to drop you off—”

He didn’t finish the sentence. Ishigami pushed him and Charlotte harder than necessary, and poor Charlotte dropped her phone.

Then, as if he suddenly remembered how to be gentlemanly, the handsome guy bent down, picked up the phone… but didn’t return it immediately.

He held it in his hand, looking at it carefully.

“Sorry,” muttered Charlotte, visibly uncomfortable.

“Oh, my bad,” Ishigami replied with a smile, finally handing over the device. “Jujutsu Kaisen wallpaper, huh? I like that anime too.”

“Yeah… it’s really good,” she answered tensely, not knowing how to react.

Gen could clearly notice his makeup artist’s discomfort, and was already planning to give Ishigami a good talking-to later about respecting personal space, especially women’s.

But the guy got ahead of him, turning to Gen with a hard expression.

“I live on the other side of town,” he said coldly. “She can probably get home faster by subway.”

Gen blinked.

Charlotte too.

“Well…” She forced a small laugh. “Yeah, sure. That’s fine.”

“Thanks for the coffee,” Gen said, taking a last sip. “See you tomorrow.”

Charlotte nodded stiffly and walked away down the hall, her heels sounding louder than necessary.

Once they were alone, Gen turned to Ishigami with an arched brow.

“Are you jealous?”

“What? No. What nonsense.”

Ishigami crossed his arms. “It’s just not wise for her to get in the car with us. You and I have things to discuss.”

“Oh, I see…” Gen smiled, amused. “And what exactly do you want to talk about?”

“About your judgment, mainly. Or the alarming lack of it.”

“Uh-huh. Well, you can lecture me on the way home.” Gen nodded. “Come on, Ishigami. I’ll give you a ride.”

Ishigami didn’t answer but didn’t refuse either. He just grunted quietly and started walking toward the exit, and Gen followed him with a mischievous smile.

Yeah, definitely jealous.

And knowing that gave him some peace.

At least, he thought as they left the building together, Ishigami seemed to trust him again.

Early in the morning, Gen’s phone rang. He picked it up with all the tiredness in the world. If he had more energy, he would have turned it off. But holding down the button was too much effort, so he simply answered, put it on speaker, and let life hit him.

“Hey, kid? Are you there?” His manager’s voice sounded instantly.

“Uh-huh,” he murmured in a thick voice, buried in the sheets.

“Tell me, are you sitting down?”

“Lying down.”

“Perfect. Either way, I would’ve had you sit.”

“What do you want...? I’m dying of sleep.”

“Did you run off somewhere with that guy?”

“What?! No! Wait! Did something get out in the media? I just took him home!”

“For once with you, it’s not something bad.”

Gen frowned, half awake. “So...?”

“We managed to close the negotiations to extend your tour to the United States. They accepted.”

Silence.

“What...?”

“It’s completely official, kid. We’re already closing the final paperwork. Why do you think Ryusui and I were so busy yesterday? Turns out a video of you doing that fire trick — yeah, the one I criticized — went viral!” the man said, visibly excited. “They accepted almost immediately, and I already talked to the guy handling investigations. He says he has a lead. So, once all this mess is resolved, we’ll make a massive announcement saying your break was to prepare for your world tour.”

Gen sat up suddenly.

“Are you serious?”

“Like a contract with signature and seal. I can already see the posters! Lights, giant screens, all of America with your face on the streets!”

Gen covered his mouth, eyes wide as saucers.

“Is this for real?”

“Yes, kid. Congratulations. I’ll call you later, okay? Right now everything is chaos. I’ll let you know if there’s any progress on the case. For now, rest… and get ready. You’re going to need it.”

The call ended, and Gen jumped up with all the energy he hadn’t had just minutes ago.

Shit, shit, shit.

He’s going to the United States!

He’s going to have a damn show in the United States!

He started hopping with joy while making himself a coffee, smiling like an idiot. He was so eager to tell someone that he almost grabbed the phone again... but probably Tsukasa and Ukyo already knew.

Wait! Senku!

Although... how was he going to tell him? Senku still didn’t know anything about his real job. Dropping that news on him like that would be like throwing a bomb right in his face.

Right, he still had to figure that out.

Ishigami said he had a lead — and pretty fast, by the way — so he just had to wait for him to catch the culprit. From the stalker’s side, he hadn’t received anything new, just a couple of repetitive messages that he had already started ignoring.

He doesn’t have real-time access to my phone.

That meant the stalker probably only had old info... things Gen had told Senku at some point.

In other words, he knows how to hide his identity, but not how to hack a phone.

He should rethink his priorities.

Ah! Yes! Senku. He was going to tell him.

Not everything, of course. Just enough to leave him curious. Let him learn what it feels like to live with curiosity inside.

For refusing to tell him what his job was, he deserved it.

Gen flopped down on the couch with his coffee in hand, opened the chat, and started typing with a mischievous smile:

Gen stared at the screen, pursing his lips.

He didn’t like that “complicated.”

But he also didn’t want to pressure him. Not directly, at least.

He could insist, but better with charm.

Gen looked at the screen for a second, pressed his lips… and turned off the phone with a loud sigh.

“Idiot.”

He should have taken advantage when Senku was more willing, when he wanted to see him. That’s what happens for being indecisive.

Although… technically he didn’t say no.

Well, actually yes. But he also said it could be next time.

That’s something!

There’s hope!

It could happen!

And if that happened, he had to be mentally prepared.

Because how was Senku going to react when he found out that it wasn’t the lab guard, Kinro, but actually Gen Asagiri?

The mentalist.

The “con artist magician,” in Senku’s own words.

Ah… Maybe he should go pray.

And also…

Celebrate!

Because he’s going to the damn United States!

He turned the phone on again, with a dangerous smile, and dialed immediately.

Ukyo answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Ukyo? I guess you already heard, right? Yeah?! We’re going partying! I know it’s nine in the morning, doesn’t matter!”

And so, between excitement, confusion, and barely contained euphoria, Gen began pacing around his living room, already thinking about which outfit he’d wear for his mini celebration.

Let life be chaotic, but stylish.

Senku wants to die.

He arrived at the apartment close to midnight, entered quietly thankful that his father seemed to be asleep, and walked softly down the hallway, trying not to make any noise. He opened the door to his room and collapsed into the desk chair.

Then, he started banging his forehead against the desk.

Damn it.

Damn. It.

Why does everything have to go wrong today?

He was supposed to talk to Asagiri. To reveal the truth, like it was nothing. To say: “Surprise, I’m the real Senku. The one from the chat. The one who spent entire nights analyzing you like you were a social experiment on legs. And the one you defended with all your might so they wouldn’t label me a stalker.”

And then disappear with dignity. Cut it off cleanly.

He was even going to laugh. Because, of course, that would make everything less pathetic, right?

But no.

He froze. Like a statue. Every time he opened his mouth, the words melted before they came out. An emotional mush from which even he—a self-proclaimed genius—couldn’t make sense.

Since when was he so socially useless?

(...Don’t answer that.)

Yes, maybe Asagiri looked incredible in person. And yes, maybe he remembered all the embarrassing conversations they’d had.

But he was better than that, damn it!

And as if that wasn’t enough, there was the little detail of the stalker.

Or rather… the stalker woman.

Charlotte.

How the hell hadn’t Asagiri noticed before? He claimed to be a mentalist!

The woman had already acted weird in the elevator. And don’t even get started on the way her face twisted when he—brilliant, cunning, and clearly lacking self-preservation instinct—told her his real name.

His damn name!

That’s why they say you shouldn’t act when you’re in a hurry!

At first, it was just a mild suspicion when he noticed she brought Asagiri coffee from the same nearby place his GPS showed. Too much coincidence. So yes, his brilliant plan was to grab the phone for a few seconds, “subtly,” in a way less invasive than Asagiri’s.

Right, the network she used was named GEN.

Creepy.

There was the confirmation. He wanted to tell Asagiri on the way back. That was his original plan. But no. Again, nothing.

Asagiri started talking about anything. And he… just went along with it.

Senku banged his forehead against the desk again.

“Great. Perfect.”

He’s keeping too many secrets, isn’t he?

Chapter Text

The bedroom door was opened forcefully and shut immediately behind the person who entered.

Senku was sitting in front of his desk, still wearing the same clothes from the day before, with his cat dozing between his legs. The feline, completely oblivious to human drama, paid no attention to the visitor and simply stayed where it was, sinking into its own misery.

It was a scene worth witnessing: a genius with dark circles, an indifferent cat, and half a dozen flickering screens.

Chrome walked softly over to his friend and dropped into a disposable chair that had become, without discussion, his usual spot whenever he entered that room. He took a quick glance at one of the screens and didn’t need more to confirm it:

His friend had probably stayed up all night.

“Hey,” Chrome began, not really sure what to say, “why did you call me?”

Senku let out a heavy sigh. He picked up the cat with both hands and moved it off his lap. The animal let out an unpleasant meow and walked off toward the bed, its dignity wounded.

Good. Chrome didn’t like that cat.

“I know who the stalker is,” Senku finally said.

The news truly surprised Chrome. He knew Senku was fast when he put his mind to something, but he didn’t think he’d figure it out so easily. “You found their user?”

Senku gave him a tired look. “No. Yesterday I tracked the IP. Apparently, they were nearby. After a long search around the area… nothing.”

“Then how—?”

“Let me finish.”

“Okay, okay.”

“I found the network the stalker was using,” he added, pointing at a line of code in one of the open windows. The network’s name stood out: GEN. Chrome felt a small chill just reading it. “When we returned to the building, the makeup artist—Charlotte, apparently a close friend of Gen—was there.”

Chrome frowned, leaning in to take the keyboard. He began browsing through the data his friend had left open.

“So the signal came from her, I assume?”

“Yes. I realized it because she brought Asagiri a coffee from the same area where the network was located. So I found a way to get her phone and confirmed it.”

“And what way was that?”

“I pushed her so she’d drop the phone and then picked it up to investigate. It was easy,” Senku answered without hesitation.

Chrome stared at him in disbelief. Senku only shrugged.

“What? Asagiri did worse. He stole an old man’s phone because he thought he looked suspicious.”

“I’m not going to ask,” Chrome said, holding back a laugh.

“Wise decision.”

“And what about this?” he asked, pointing to the screen, where a series of encrypted files were still being processed.

Senku ran a hand down his face.

“I’m checking if there’s a pattern of access. Something to tell us whether it was just once or if she’s done it multiple times. But so far, it looks like she only accessed Gen’s phone once. And apparently not remotely, she just grabbed it at some point and looked through it.”

“I see,” Chrome leaned back. Senku knew what was coming before he even asked. “And did you tell Asagiri? That you're the one he's been talking to?”

Senku stayed silent for a few seconds. Then, he shook his head.

“I couldn’t.”

Chrome blinked, stunned.

“You seemed really sure yesterday that you’d end all this.”

“I know.” Senku slumped back over his desk, frowning, as if he could sink into the wood and disappear. “Things got complicated, okay? I showed up, and Asagiri was a bit surprised to see me, sure, but then… he was so happy.”

“Oh, by the way,” he added with a distracted wave of his hand, “I also met the real Kinro. That was… weird.”

Chrome was curious to ask more, but kept quiet. Senku wasn’t usually this talkative, so he just listened.

“At first, I thought the mentalist was going to hate me. That he’d think I was the stalker and tell me to go to hell. Then I’d clear my name by saying who I really am and that I was there to help, and done. But no. Instead…” he grimaced, still incredulous, “he brought us chips. He choked on his drink. He laughed at something that didn’t even make sense. He even made a few jokes about me being there. And I didn’t know how to tell him.”

“I think it’s worse not to,” Chrome was still stunned since the genius was known for being straightforward. The logical option, he’d say.

“I know. Believe me. I thought, ‘Okay, I’ll tell him when we leave. By the end of the day, he’ll know who the real stalker is, he’ll sort out his legal mess, and I’ll leave. Logical choice. Clean ending.’ But then… turns out the stalker is someone close. Someone he trusts. Which sucks, because more than once he’s mentioned how lonely he feels, you know?”

Chrome nodded in understanding. “Look, man… I don’t think you should stay away from him.”

Senku let out an empty laugh.

“Come on, do you really think Gen’s going to still want me as a friend when literally one of the people closest to him is threatening him online with private info and it’s technically my fault? She knows because he told me!”

“But you’re not the one who betrayed him. And besides, she hasn’t sent threats lately. That’s something positive, right? And well…” He hesitated before continuing. “Asagiri seems really comfortable talking to you.”

Senku glared at him.

“What?”

“You read our messages.”

“You can’t judge me. It’s part of my job.”

Senku dropped his head back onto the desk, this time harder.

“You’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me. I’m not your employee.”

“Then we’re no longer partners.”

Chrome burst out laughing.

“Tell me one thing… is Asagiri still texting you?”

“Why even ask? You’re literally reading the messages right now.”

Chrome leaned away from the screen with a mischievous smile.

“Alright, alright. But that’s good. He texted you this morning and he seems pretty happy.”

“The calm before the storm,” Senku muttered, still resting his head on the desk. Then, as if something clicked in his head, he suddenly sat up straight.

“I’ve got it!”

“You’re going to tell him?”

“No. You will. Technically, it’s your job too, right?”

“You just fired me.”

“And you didn’t accept. Too bad, missed your chance.”

Chrome stood as well, getting ready to leave the room.

“I’m not doing it. You’ve dodged putting your feelings on the table too many times, but this time, that’s not happening. You’ve been drooling over Asagiri even before you found out it was him.”

Senku narrowed his eyes.

“I think I should remind you I still haven’t fed Manganese.”

The cat meowed upon hearing its name. Chrome didn’t even dare look at it. That animal was as unhinged as its owner.

“Terrifying. Whatever.” Chrome sighed and tossed him a smile. “Now, as part of your job, you have to go give Asagiri the information. Good luck with that.”

“Wait, you bastard! I won’t give you your share of the money!”

“We still work together. It’s your duty,” he said as he was already walking out, as if that settled the matter.

Senku’s phone rang just as Chrome was about to cross the doorway. They both glanced at the name flashing on the screen.

Senku sighed in relief.

“It’s Yuzuriha.”

“Right,” Chrome said, scratching the back of his neck. “They were worried about you. I forgot to tell you.”

Senku shot him a reproachful look. Chrome raised his hands and hurried to vanish before the cat could attack him.

“Maybe you should talk to someone more… honest,” he called from the hallway.

Senku heard his friend say goodbye to Byakuya, followed by the sound of the front door closing. The phone was still vibrating beside him, now joined by a couple more notifications. Kinro.

No. Gen. He still had to get used to that.

Sighing in resignation, Senku picked up the phone and answered:

“Hey, Yuzuriha. How’s everything? Sorry about the other day…”

The suitcase was still empty on the bed.

Gen stared at it as if it were a bottomless pit. He had tried to put something inside a few minutes ago—a shirt, a planner, anything to give the illusion of progress—but in the end, he had unfolded everything again. He couldn’t focus. Not when Senku’s messages had become so short. So cold. So… Senku, but without the chaotic touch Gen had started to miss.

Something felt off. He could sense it.

And the worst part was that he couldn’t stop thinking about Ishigami.

He remembered their encounter at Lillian Weinberg’s party all too clearly, dim lights, music pounding through the walls, and that messy-haired guy who looked like he had fallen in by accident. He didn’t have the refined air of the others, or the language laced with fake courtesies. He was direct, observant… uncomfortably sharp. And, for some reason, genuinely funny.

Gen had felt it right away: that spark. They had laughed, challenged each other with words… even now, he could recall the way Ishigami looked at him, as if he could read more than Gen was saying. Besides Senku, Ishigami had become the last person with whom Gen could have a conversation that actually felt honest.

But yesterday, when he saw him again in person, something was different. Ishigami had barely met his eyes. He seemed tense, uneasy, with his hands shoved into his pockets and his tone of voice much flatter. As if being in the same room with Gen made him uncomfortable.

Gen let out a low chuckle, a hollow sound, lacking the charm he used onstage. If any fan saw him now, sitting on his bed with his phone in hand and a frown on his face, they probably wouldn’t recognize him.

He unlocked the phone.

Nothing new.

Well, nothing… except for a few messages from the number that had become a constant shadow in his life. Gen took a deep breath before opening them. They still sent chills down his spine.

Gen’s stomach clenched. The old reflex of fear kicked in effortlessly and forced him to shut his eyes and count to ten.

But this time, he knew something more. This person had no real evidence. They were desperate for attention.

“Ignore and wait,” he whispered to himself, like a prayer. “Ignore and wait. This person is going to pay for what they’re doing.”

He let out a long sigh and quickly swiped those messages out of sight. There was no point in reading them. They only gave power to the sender.

He opened the chat that actually mattered. He had been waiting all morning for a new message. Lately, he was the one starting the conversations, and though he didn’t want to admit it, he could tell something had changed between them since the moment he refused to visit him at the science fair.

But honestly, Gen didn’t regret it. That was the only choice possible at the time.

He let himself fall back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling for a long while. Even though his contract had just been signed, his first trip to the United States was closer than he expected. He was going to see the theater, talk about marketing, discuss script changes…

And the free time he still had was slipping through his fingers.

Who knew when he’d get another chance to meet Senku? It was now or never.

“Ishigami is taking too long,” he muttered to himself. “Should I ask Kinro for his number…? No, maybe… Chrome, was that his name? He should have it.”

He opened the chat with the hacker. He was glad he had asked for his number, and technically, he could get an update on the case from Chrome, but for some reason, he felt more comfortable asking Ishigami directly. He was about to type a simple: Hey, could you give me dear Ishigami’s number? when a notification lit up the screen.

A very specific one.

It was Senku!

Ishigami could wait a little longer.

Even though Gen’s usual attitude would have been to let him wait, just like the guy had done so many times, the truth was that Gen couldn’t help himself and replied immediately.

Gen smiled as he tossed a couple of clothes into the forgotten suitcase and snapped a quick photo.

Just a little incentive.

Gen bit his lip. A week wasn’t long, but it was still uncertain. He didn’t know how long it would take Ishigami to reach out again. His trip would be scheduled as soon as they had the stalker’s identity… and with how fast the hacker was progressing, that could be as soon as tomorrow.

He made a mental note: get Ishigami’s number. If he could stall him, even just a little…

Gen squinted at the image. It was just a screen filled with green lines on a black background. Code? Some kind of software? He didn’t understand any of it. “What is this supposed to be? Real-time Matrix?” he muttered, frustrated.

Gen smiled, his fingers already poised to type his comeback. But just as he started typing, the screen changed abruptly: an incoming call.

An unregistered number.

But Gen recognized it immediately.

His chest tightened. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do.

Should he answer?

No. That wasn’t a reasonable option. If Ishigami had found the stalker’s address with just a few messages, what kind of things could the stalker discover with a phone call?

He quickly took a screenshot and sent it directly to Chrome’s chat, along with a short message:

He waited.

Stared at the screen. The call kept ringing, insistent, as if every second on the other end was deliberately stretching out. Until finally, time seemed to run out and the call disconnected.

Gen exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He returned to Chrome’s chat, waiting for a response, but nothing. The message status didn’t even show as delivered.

“Come on…” he muttered to himself, anxiously tapping his foot.

He bit the inside of his cheek. Suddenly, he deeply regretted not having asked Ishigami for his number earlier.

The phone rang again.

Gen looked at it. Let it ring. This time he didn’t even touch it. He pushed it out of sight as if it burned and left it on the bed, screen down. Once again, the call ended on its own.

“What if I block them?” he thought.

No.

What if that made him miss some important clue? What if it got in the way of any tracking attempt?

Just when he was trying to convince himself that the best thing to do was to simply put the phone in airplane mode, the messages arrived.

Gen got out of bed and began to pace the room in circles. He was nervous, yes. But also furious. Frustrated. He wanted to do something. Say something. But he didn’t know who to turn to.

Then, someone knocked on the door.

The sound was soft, but enough to make Gen freeze.

A chill ran down his spine and his heart began to pound wildly. He stood there, in the middle of the room, unsure whether he should move or stay still, as if that could make him invisible.

Finally, he forced himself to react. He left the room with slow, hesitant steps. He didn’t remember ordering anything, no package, no home delivery. Although, of course, he did sometimes receive letters or unexpected gifts from fans…

Maybe it was that.

Yes, it was surely that. Some forgotten package. Nothing serious.

He also remembered they still hadn’t planned a formal outing to celebrate his new contract. With Tsukasa’s tight schedule, everything had been left up in the air. Maybe, just maybe, one of his friends had decided to surprise him.

There was no reason to panic. Right?

Even so, the fear didn’t quite go away. As he passed through the hallway, his eyes landed on the umbrella leaning next to the entrance. He picked it up. Just in case. It wasn’t very heavy, but it had a firm metal frame. He felt a bit better having something in his hands.

This could be one of those experiences he’d laugh about later if everything turned out okay…

Carefully, he approached the door. Pressed his eye against the peephole.

And let out a sigh.

Charlotte.

There she was, standing on the other side, impeccably styled as always, wearing her light-colored blazer and that friendly smile she always put on when she saw him. Her posture was relaxed. In one hand she held a small gift bag wrapped in golden paper. In the other, her phone.

Gen lowered the umbrella, feeling the tension leave his body a little.

It was just Charlotte.

Gen allowed himself to relax.

He had worried over nothing.

Senku slurped his noodles, trying to avoid the anguished stares his friends kept sending him.

A little regret began to sneak in between bites. Why had he answered Yuzuriha’s call?

His original plan was to keep the conversation short and light, pretend he was distracted until she noticed he had no intention of talking seriously and left him alone.

But avoiding Yuzuriha is like trying to dodge the rain with a colander.

And now here he was, sitting in front of her and Taiju, with their plates still untouched, growing colder with each second of tense silence.

“Your ramen’s going to get cold,” he said, trying to ease the mood.

“Senku…”

“We’ve been so worried about you, Senku!” Taiju suddenly shouted, drawing half the restaurant’s attention. Yuzuriha hurried to place a hand on his arm to lower his voice.

“Wait, Taiju,” the girl sighed. “But… yeah. It’s true. We’ve been worried. You’ve been very distant lately. And last time… you ran off without even giving us an explanation.”

“Senku ran?” Taiju blinked, shocked. “Then it really is serious!”

“Shut it, big guy!” Senku snapped. “I already said nothing weird is going on. You’re blowing things out of proportion.”

“Senku,” Yuzuriha called gently, not looking away from him. “You know you can trust us, right?”

Chrome had told him he needed to talk to someone.

Damn it. Since when did he start taking Chrome’s advice? Had he really sunk that low?

He raised his head and was met with the same anguished expressions he’d been dodging since he arrived. He took a deep breath, as if the air were heavier than usual, and set his chopsticks aside.

“Fine!” he finally said, a bit louder than necessary. “But this stays between us, got it?”

His eyes landed directly on Taiju, who nodded with almost theatrical seriousness, clenching his fists like he was swearing to protect a state secret.

“Word of honor,” said Taiju.

“Whatever you want to tell us,” Yuzuriha added, “you’re not alone, Senku.”

Senku wasn’t used to this—he wasn’t the one who kept secrets, he wasn’t the one who hesitated in the first place. He had always been straightforward and serious about what he needed, and now it felt strange to have so much to say and no idea where to begin.

Finally, he leaned over the table and spoke.

“You remember Kinro, right?”

They both nodded immediately.

“Good,” he continued, taking a breath. “I met him. I know who he is.”

Taiju and Yuzuriha’s eyes locked on him.

“It’s Asagiri Gen.”

Taiju, who had finally dared to try his noodles, immediately choked. He started coughing so hard that several people in the restaurant turned around.

“ What?! ” he managed between coughs, while Yuzuriha leaned toward him in desperation and quickly handed him a glass of water.

Senku, unfazed, looked away from the shop owner who was now glaring at them from across the counter with clear disapproval.

“Are you… completely sure about that?” Yuzuriha asked once Taiju could finally breathe again.

“Yes,” Senku said firmly. “This is part of something else I haven’t told you... Chrome and I took a job a few days ago. It came directly from Asagiri’s company. That’s when I started noticing the coincidences.”

“But… he told you his name was Kinro, didn’t he?”

“Apparently, that’s the name of his bodyguard,” Senku explained. “Seems he used it as a cover.”

“Oh…” Yuzuriha lowered her gaze, processing. “I see why you were keeping it to yourself.”

“Of course!” Taiju chimed in, more recovered. “You hate Asagiri.”

Senku shot him a sharp look.

“But… does he know?” Yuzuriha interrupted.

Senku shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Gen has no idea who I really am. He only knows me as Ishigami.”

“Wait, I’m getting lost,” Taiju said, frowning. “He knows you as Ishigami and not as Senku? And also… what kind of job are you doing for him?”

Senku hesitated to say that part.

“Technically… I’m solving a case,” he finally replied, in a neutral tone.

“What kind of case?” Yuzuriha asked, now much more alert.

“A stalker,” Senku said, pushing his bowl aside. He no longer had an appetite. “Someone’s been threatening Asagiri. They hired me to find out who it is.”

Yuzuriha covered her mouth with a hand, horrified.

“That’s awful… He seems like such a good person. He doesn’t deserve that.”

Senku looked away.
A few weeks ago, he would’ve laughed just imagining himself agreeing with that statement.
But now he was.

“And do you know who it is?” Taiju asked.

Senku nodded slowly, hesitating for just a second.

“It’s his makeup artist. Her name is Charlotte.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Yuzuriha asked at last.

“As sure as one can be without a confession,” Senku murmured. “But too many things add up. The threats started when she showed up. She has access to his routine, his personal space. She knows things only someone very close could know.”

“And he doesn’t suspect anything?” Taiju asked, impressed.

Senku shook his head.

“He trusts her.”

“Senku… he has to know. It’s dangerous to keep someone like that close to him.”

“I know,” he replied. “But if I’m going to tell him… it has to be at the right moment. And it has to come from me. Not… from Ishigami.”

“Of course,” said Yuzuriha, sitting up straighter. “When was the last time you talked? I mean, through chat.”

“Right before I came here.” Senku lowered his gaze. “I’m trying to keep his trust… you know, so he doesn’t completely hate me when he finds out.”

He rested his elbows on the table and let out a long sigh. Then he spoke, his voice more determined:

“I’m going to tell him the truth. Everything. That Charlotte is the stalker… and that I’m Senku.”

“And it should be soon,” Taiju added, pointing at the phone Senku had left forgotten on the side. The screen was flashing with unopened notifications. “Looks like Chrome is kind of freaking out.”

Senku’s expression darkened and he grabbed the phone quickly.

Senku opened the image. It was a screenshot of a call from a private number. The detail that made his jaw tighten was the time: just minutes after he and Gen had stopped talking.
He cursed under his breath.

“Is something wrong?” Yuzuriha asked, noticing the change in his expression.

Senku swallowed hard. His fingers clenched around the phone.

“The stalker called him. Right after we talked.”

“And did she say anything?” Yuzuriha asked, worried.

“I don’t know,” he replied, suddenly standing and grabbing his things from the seat. “He’s not answering.”

“Are you going to look for him?” she asked, rising as well.

“Yes. I’m going to Nanami’s Entertainment. It’s the only place I know he might be.”

He didn’t wait for another reply. He said goodbye with a quick nod and left the restaurant without looking back, leaving behind an empty bowl, displaced chairs, and his visibly worried friends.

The walk turned into a run before he realized. Senku weaved through the crowd, dodged a cyclist who nearly hit him, and jumped into the first free cab he found, giving the company’s address with a tense voice and eyes glued to his phone screen. Nothing. Gen still wasn’t answering.

He sent another rushed message to Chrome:

As soon as they arrived, Senku got out of the cab without waiting for change, leaving a couple of crumpled bills on the seat and running toward the building entrance. His sneakers echoed loudly on the polished floor.

“You can’t go in, kid!”

A burly man, arms crossed and expression as firm as his stance, blocked the revolving glass door.

What the hell…? Senku skidded to a stop, panting from the run.

“I’m looking for Asagiri. Is he here?”

The guard let out a dry, unpleasant laugh.

“You think I’m just gonna give you that kind of info? Another hysterical fan? Get out before we kick you out.”

Seriously? Now? He’d been in that building just the night before! He got in without trouble. And now this?

“Look, I’m not a fan,” he snapped, frustrated. “I don’t even care about him as a celebrity! But he might be in danger. I need to know if he’s here.”

The guard’s expression changed instantly, hardening. With a swift motion, he reached for a shoulder communicator Senku hadn’t noticed before. Seeing his intent, Senku stepped forward to try to grab it.

“Hey! What are you doing? Who are you calling?”

“Excuse me? Is something wrong?”

They both turned in unison toward the new voice.
A slender boy was approaching from the side of the building. He had straight white hair, hidden beneath a cap. His headphones hung around his neck, and he was watching them intently.

“It’s okay, Mr. Saionji,” the guard repeated, firmly pushing Senku aside. “Just another crazy fan.”

The newcomer—calm, almost curious—kept his eyes fixed on Senku for a few seconds that felt long. Senku noticed he was observing him more attentively than judgmentally.

“Come with me.”

They both looked at him, puzzled.

“Huh?” Senku blurted, surprised.

“I want to talk to you. It’s better if we do it away from here.”

And just like that, the boy turned around and began calmly walking down the sidewalk, away from the entrance.

Senku looked at him, uncertain. Should he follow?

He looked at the guard, then at the stranger. And he followed him.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, until they were out of sight of the building. The boy stopped near a bench under a tree and turned to him.

“What’s your name?”

Senku hesitated. For a second he thought about lying, about giving another name. But before he could answer, the boy spoke again.

“You said Gen was in danger. Why?”

Senku frowned. “Who are you? How did you hear me?”

“Ukyo Saionji,” he replied. “I work with him. And if you’re referring to the stalker thing, then yes. I’m aware.”

Senku took a deep breath. The tension in his shoulders eased just a little.

“I don’t know where he is,” he admitted, in a low voice. “He’s not answering. And the last time I talked to him was right before the stalker called.”

Ukyo slightly furrowed his brow.

“The stalker called him?”

“Stalker her ,” Senku corrected sharply.

“Who is she?”

The question made him tense up again. After the mistake he’d made trusting the makeup artist, he wasn’t about to give out information so easily.

“You’ll know later. First I need to make sure Gen is okay.”

Ukyo watched him, evaluating his tone, but eventually sighed.

“Fine. You say he’s not answering his cellphone, right?”

“At least my partner has been trying.”

Ukyo took out his own phone, quickly dialing a number. He waited. Nothing.

“That’s weird,” he murmured. “He usually doesn’t let go of his phone.”

He dialed again. The ringing tone played, but there was no answer.

Senku checked his phone screen. Two new messages from Chrome:

A chill ran down his spine.

“Do you know where he lives?” he asked, urgently.

Ukyo nodded, but raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but I won’t tell you that easily… though we could try something else.”

Senku looked at him with contained anxiety. “What is it?”

“Calling his landline.”

Senku blinked. “He still has one of those?”

Ukyo gave a fleeting smile. “Says it looks vintage.”

“Well, do it. Now.”

Ukyo nodded. He dialed another number and put it on speaker.

One ring.

Another.

A third.

Then finally, a voice on the other end.

“Hello?”

It was a female voice.

They both tensed immediately.

It was Charlotte.

The tea was already cold, but Gen didn’t seem to mind. He was lying on the couch, a small blanket over his legs, while Charlotte laughed at some old anecdote of hers.

“Seriously, you have such a way of telling stories… I could listen to you for hours,” Charlotte said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

Her visit had been unexpected, but for Gen, it had also been a relief. After everything that had happened, any distraction was welcome. Charlotte had arrived with a bag full of sweets—his favorites, actually—and had walked in so naturally that for a moment, it felt like she had always belonged there.

“How did you find my address, dear?” he asked, stepping aside to let her in.

“Oh, I asked around the building,” she answered without hesitation. “Ukyo gave it to me.”

That made him frown slightly. Ukyo wasn’t the type to give out that kind of information so easily. But oh well. He had no complaints. Any company was welcome now.

A couple of hours after her arrival, they were talking about anything and everything while Charlotte tested some makeup techniques on him.

“Would you like more tea, dear?” Gen asked, noticing her cup was empty.

“Oh, yes, of course. Thank you,” she replied with a smile.

Gen took both cups and walked to the kitchen, thinking of changing the flavor. Something floral, maybe. While he waited for the water to boil, his landline—forgotten among the books and papers—began to ring.

Charlotte looked at it with mild surprise, but before he could react, she said:

“You still have that thing? So retro.”

“You know how I am,” Gen replied with a light smile. “It makes me feel like I live in another era. Though it’s weird for someone to call me on that line… now that I think about it, where’s my cell phone?”

“Don’t worry.” Charlotte stood up quickly. “I’ll get it.”

“Alright,” he said, turning his focus back to the tea.

Charlotte picked up the phone. Her expression shifted subtly, but her voice remained calm.

“Hello?”

There was a pause. Then her face lost all warmth.

“Who are you?” she asked, this time in a colder tone. “No, he’s not available. No, I won’t leave him a message.”

And she hung up.

Gen returned with the cups.

“Who was it?”

“No one. Wrong number, I guess.”

Charlotte smiled at him, but something in her smile felt forced, almost tense. Gen frowned slightly.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course.” She sat down again and handed him one of the cups. “Everything’s fine. But I’m worried that you keep getting weird calls.”

“Weird?” he asked, sitting across from her.

“Yes. I don’t want anyone to hurt you.” She looked down at her tea. “After everything we’ve shared... everything we’ve built... I’m worried someone might come and ruin it.”

Built? Gen felt uneasy at the implication. She had only started working for him what, a couple of months ago? Now she spoke as if they had a bond forged over years.

Gen watched her for another second, then glanced toward his phone. He still hadn’t found it.

“Have you seen my phone?”

Charlotte stayed silent a second longer than usual.

“No,” she finally replied with a sweet smile. “Maybe you left it in your room.”

“I’ll go look for it.”

He stood, but before he could take a step, Charlotte gently grabbed his wrist.

“You don’t need it right now, do you? We’re having a nice moment.”

Gen stood still.

“I just want to know if there’s a message from... someone.”

“From Senku?”

The name froze him.

Charlotte slowly let go of him.

“How do you know about him?” Gen murmured.

Charlotte raised her eyes slowly. Something in them had changed. She was still smiling, but now she seemed... hollow.

“Because I’ve been watching him too. Just like you have.”

Gen felt a chill run down his spine.

“What... are you saying?”

Charlotte stood calmly, as if her world wasn’t spiraling.

“It’s a shame,” she said, setting her cup aside. “I didn’t want you to find out like this. Don’t get confused, Gen. This isn’t a betrayal. It’s protection. I’m the only one who’s truly been here for you. I see you. What you need. What you feel. You just weren’t answering my messages and I... had to take measures.”

Gen took a step back.

“Charlotte... did you take my phone?”

She shrugged, as if it weren’t important.

“I just hid it. For your own good. You didn’t want to listen to me, so I had to find other ways. The world out there is full of people who want to hurt you. Senku is one of them.”

“Don’t talk about him.”

“Why not? Because he sent you sweet things? Because he made you feel special?” Charlotte laughed, but it sounded bitter, sharp. “Did you really think someone like Ishigami would get close to you just like that? It’s obvious he’s trying to get something from you.”

Gen turned pale.

“Ishigami...?”

She looked him straight in the eyes.

“He is Senku. He always was. Didn’t you know?”

The world seemed to stop.

“That doesn’t... make sense. You’re lying.”

But even as he said it, something inside him began to fall apart.

“Are you sure?” Charlotte smiled cruelly. “Think about it. His way of speaking. That obsession with data, details, science. How many people in the world know how to hack a phone? Or how to track someone down the way he tracked me?”

Gen shook his head, trembling.

“No...” Gen shook his head again, as if trying to shake off her words. “He wouldn’t lie to me. He... would have told me.”

“Did you tell him?” Charlotte replied, her eyes gleaming twistedly. “Did you tell him you were Gen Asagiri, the media magician? Why do you expect him to be honest if you weren’t?”

“How do you know that...?” Gen could barely breathe. “How do you know he...?”

Charlotte didn’t answer right away. She just lifted her phone with a theatrical gesture and tapped a few buttons on the screen.

“Listen,” she said.

From the device came a familiar voice, filtered through a recording. First, his own:

“Can I know your name? For safety.”

A few seconds of silence.

And then, that voice.

“Senku. Senku Ishigami.”

Charlotte stopped the recording just after her own farewell:

“Right. Then, see you, dear Senku.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“No...” Gen whispered, voice breaking.

“You see. I’m the only one who never lied to you.”

“You hid things from me! You were the one stalking me!”

“If you had kept talking to him, who knows how far he would’ve gone! Do you have any idea how much information you gave that guy?”

“You’re the one who threatened to expose those things!”

“I did it to protect you!” Charlotte snapped, her eyes shining with a mix of rage and desperation. “To teach you!” she shrieked. “To make you understand that you don’t need to trust anyone else! No one but me!”

Gen’s eyes filled with tears.

“You’re sick…”

Charlotte raised a hand, maybe to touch him, to grab him—who knew with what intention anymore. But Gen reacted. He took a step back, dodging her, body tense, ready to flee.

“Gen,” she said, suddenly softening her voice, using that sweet and poisonous tone she once used to gain his trust. “You have to understand me. I did it for you. I couldn’t let you keep talking to someone like him.”

“How did you know about our conversations?” Gen asked, trembling, voice barely audible.

Charlotte blinked, as if the question was absurd to her.

“Seriously?” she mocked, letting out a dry laugh. “That’s what you’re asking now? It was obvious, Gen! You were glued to your phone. I just had to catch you off guard once to see who you were talking to. When I finally got the job as your makeup artist, I made sure to be close to you. But all you ever cared about was that damn phone!”

Charlotte took a step toward him. He stepped back.

“And then I read. Every word. Every sweet little message. Every stupid confession you made to that stranger.”

“He wasn’t a stranger…” Gen murmured, voice barely a whisper.

“Oh, please!” she shouted. “Of course he was! You just now found out who he really was, and that’s why you’re crying.”

Gen hadn’t realized the tears in his eyes until that moment.

“I just wanted you to see the truth,” she whispered. “I wanted you to understand that no one—no one—is going to take care of you like I will. Not Ishigami, not your team, not your fans. Just me.”

“That’s not love,” Gen said, his voice breaking. “You’re insane.”

Charlotte clenched her fists. Her breathing grew erratic.

And then, something in her shifted. As if a mask had fallen away.

“You’ll regret this,” she said coldly. “When he leaves you. When they expose you. When everyone finds out what you really are. When everyone finds out about your illness! Who do you think will be there? Me! I’ll be the only one to help you!”

“Illness…?”

Gen remembered her early threats. Of course. She meant because he was gay.

How had he spent so long around someone like this?

Gen looked at her, feeling he couldn’t take another second. Every moment beside her was more dangerous.

He had to get out.

Now.

And then he did what he had to do.

He ran for the door.

Charlotte screamed his name.

She tried to grab him from behind, but he was faster. Heart pounding, he pushed the door open, dodged her arm, and launched himself into the hallway.

Still in his loungewear, makeup half done, face wet with sweat and tears, Gen rushed down the stairs, nearly slipping, nearly falling.

Behind him, Charlotte’s screams echoed off the walls.

“GEN! GEN, COME BACK! YOU CAN’T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS!”

He didn’t stop.

He rushed out of the building as if he couldn’t breathe, as if the whole world was on fire and only the outside offered oxygen.

The street was damp. It had rained a little earlier and the breeze cut his skin like blades. Even so, he kept walking. Trembling. With no direction. Not knowing what would come next.

He only knew one thing:

They had lied to him.

They had all lied to him.

Chapter Text

The rain began as a distant whisper, almost imperceptible, as if the sky hesitated before overflowing. Senku noticed it first, glancing up for just a moment while the screen of his phone remained lit with the last messages sent. Thin threads of water began to fall over them, sliding down their hair, their jackets, their hands. But the boy beside him didn’t seem to notice. Ukyo was furiously typing on his phone, dialing the same number over and over.

No one answered.

“Shit... pick up, damn it,” he muttered through clenched teeth, dialing again, his brow furrowed and his fingers trembling.

Senku sighed, turned off his phone screen, and put it away. There was no point in continuing. The water was already soaking his pockets, but the pressure in his chest was more uncomfortable than the damp.

This wouldn’t be happening if he had acted sooner.

He already knew Charlotte was the stalker.

Why the hell didn’t he say anything?

Why did he wait so long?

It was obvious—his own selfishness.

Ukyo slowly lowered his phone, lips pressed together. He put it away with a sharp gesture and stood up.

“They cut the line. Calls aren’t going through anymore.”

Senku stood up with him. His clothes were dripping wet.

“So now what? Do we call the police?”

Ukyo looked at him intently.

“Charlotte works as Gen’s makeup artist. Why would we call the—?” He stopped mid-sentence. Then he understood. “Oh.”

Just as the realization hit Ukyo, a lightning bolt lit up the clouds above their heads. Though it was still early, the sky began to darken. And the fog started to roll in—bad day to forget an umbrella.

The boy opened and closed his fist, clearly nervous.

“Please tell me she’s not the one who’s been stalking Gen...”

Senku took a deep breath. There was no point in hiding it anymore.

“She is.”

Ukyo’s expression hardened.

“And if she’s at his place...”

Senku nodded grimly.

“...then something’s really wrong.”

Silence fell between them as the downpour completely soaked them, and a thunderclap split the sky like a warning.

Ukyo was the first to react.

“We have to move. This bench isn’t the place to sit around thinking while Gen could be in danger.”

“Do you have a plan?” Senku followed immediately. They walked quickly through the mud and puddles to a wooden shed, big enough to cover them even though they were already soaked to the bone.

Ukyo suddenly turned to him.

“First tell me—why should I trust you?”

The question caught him off guard. Senku blinked, suddenly feeling exposed.

“I know Asagiri. He might’ve talked about me before. I’m Senku.”

Ukyo frowned.

“What? Wait... you’re him? You’re the guy Gen’s been talking to all this time?”

Senku lowered his gaze, uncomfortable. “I... uh, yeah.”

“And how do you know about the stalker? Gen wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. Especially you.”

Senku ran a hand through his hair, visibly nervous.

“It’s just that... I was hired to investigate the stalker. Nobody knew that, well, I was already talking to Asagiri all this time.”

Ukyo’s eyes went wide, genuinely stunned.

“Does Gen know?”

“No. Not yet... I haven’t told him.”

“You’re an idiot. And to think I encouraged Gen to go for it with you.”

“Huh?” Senku was surprised—he hadn’t expected an insult from this guy who seemed so kind, but he supposed he deserved it.

And putting aside the little confession that apparently the magician had been talking to his friends about him, Senku defended himself:

“I know I should’ve acted earlier. And this isn’t how things were supposed to go. But now’s not the time for regret. Who knows what could be happening to Asagiri right now. Do you know where he lives? It’s the only lead we have right now.”

Ukyo didn’t respond immediately. He clenched his jaw. His silence spoke for him—he didn’t trust him.

But in the end, he lowered his gaze and nodded, resigned.

He pulled out his phone, dialing quickly.

“I do. But we need to get there fast. And for that we need a car.”

Senku raised an eyebrow. “I came by taxi. And well... legally, I can’t have a license.”

“Don’t worry.” The boy dialed another number from memory. “I know who to call.”

They didn’t wait long. In less than ten minutes, a shiny, absurdly and ostentatiously expensive limousine pulled up in front of them. Senku barely had time to frown before Ukyo grabbed him by the arm and dragged him inside. The contrast was almost offensive. From the cold, the fog, and soaked clothes, they stepped into a warm, dry interior scented with expensive leather.

The driver was a blond-haired person driving elegantly. Next to them, Ryusui Nanami wore sunglasses (even though the fog now practically darkened everything) and greeted them with his signature smile.

“Looks like you’ve met Ishigami, Ukyo,” Ryusui said, watching with interest as Senku slumped into the leather seat like a wet rag. “May I ask the reason for this... unexpected meeting?”

Ukyo, wasting no time, replied curtly:

“Save your curiosity. Francois, do you know Gen’s address?”

Francois nodded slightly, eyes on the road. “I do. We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Fifteen minutes.

An eternity.

Ryusui finally took off his sunglasses, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you going to tell me why we’re looking for Gen?” he asked, this time with more seriousness in his voice.

Ukyo exchanged a glance with Senku, clearly expecting him to answer.

Senku swallowed before speaking.

“Gen is unreachable. We tried calling him a while ago. Charlotte—his makeup artist—is with him at his place. And I recently discovered she’s the stalker.”

Silence fell over the car like a slab of stone.

Ryusui blinked. “Charlotte... I don’t know her. Wasn’t there someone else working with Gen before?”

From the driver’s seat, Francois nodded precisely. “Mr. Asagiri’s main makeup artist took maternity leave a couple of months ago. Miss Charlotte was hired as a replacement. Her portfolio was exceptional. It was hard to question it. So she was accepted immediately.”

“How long does the leave last, exactly?” Senku asked.

“Normally two months after giving birth,” Francois explained calmly. “We granted her a couple of extra weeks as compensation. Also, Mr. Asagiri mentioned he was considering offering his new makeup artist a permanent contract, but... the matter was never brought up again.”

Ukyo crossed his arms, staring out the foggy window.

“That’s why Charlotte started to panic... Her contract could end any time now. And with it, her daily access to Gen.”

Senku felt the pieces of the puzzle come together. Charlotte had lived in a carefully crafted fantasy. As long as she could see him every day, feel part of his world, her illusion could hold. But once the end became inevitable...

The fantasy collapsed.

“And you’re telling me Gen is alone with this highly dangerous person?” Ryusui frowned, looking at both of them through the rearview mirror.

Senku and Ukyo looked at each other, not knowing how to respond.

Francois, who had heard everything, spoke without taking their eyes off the road.

“I will increase speed safely.”

Senku silently thanked the gesture.

He just hoped they wouldn’t arrive too late.

But luck has never been on Senku’s side.

The apartment was a mess.

They didn’t need to force the door, since it was already hanging ajar, and just a small push was enough to open it.

Ukyo was the first to step inside. He took one step and froze, grimacing.

“Gen may be messy… but never to this extent.”

The interior was a wreck. Cushions on the floor, a toppled lamp, papers scattered down the hallway. There were no clear signs of violence, but there was chaos. As if someone had left in a rush.

They searched room by room.

Nothing.

No Gen.

No Charlotte.

Not a single clue about where they could be.

“Do you think they fought?” Senku asked, watching as Francois began meticulously tidying up what they could.

Ukyo shook his head.

“It doesn’t look like the aftermath of a fight. More like they were desperately searching for something.”

“Charlotte? What could she want? Money?”

Ukyo shrugged.

“Who knows?”

Senku gritted his teeth. “Is there any place Asagiri might’ve gone?”

Ukyo narrowed his eyes, thinking. “If he didn’t call me… he must’ve called Tsukasa, or gone somewhere nearby that he knows,” Ukyo reasoned. “Gen doesn’t improvise in moments like this. And he’s too cautious to go somewhere unfamiliar.”

“But how would he do that without his phone?”

“We don’t know if he has his phone.”

“I think right now we can only imagine the worst scenarios,” Ryusui interrupted them. “That woman didn’t take anything of monetary value, but she did take personal belongings.”

Senku looked at him, confused. “What kind of objects?”

“Photographs. A toothbrush. Underwear,” Francois reported from the hallway, without raising their voice.

Senku cursed.

“She’s more unhinged than I thought…”

“Do you think she could’ve hurt him?” Ukyo asked.

“I don’t think so,” Ryusui replied. “Most likely, after your call, Charlotte panicked. If Gen realized the danger, he ran with whatever he could. I just hope it wasn’t too late.”

Senku clenched his fists.

“Then… what do we do?”

Ryusui turned to Senku. “We split up. We’ll search for Gen,” he said, pointing to himself and Ukyo. Then he pointed firmly. “And you… find her. Charlotte. Or whatever the hell her name is.”

Francois was already dialing something on their phone.

“I’ll contact everyone close to Mr. Asagiri. And check nearby traffic and building cameras.”

“Good…” Senku hesitated. He wasn’t entirely sure about sticking to the plan.

“Don’t worry,” Ryusui gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Once we find those two, I’ll pay you double what we originally agreed.”

Did this guy seriously think Senku cared about the money?

“I don’t think you even need to pay him,” Ukyo teased from behind them as he took a few pictures of the chaos for evidence.

“Huh? Why not? Who doesn’t care about money? Unless I’m missing something.”

“He’s Senku.”

Ryusui looked at Senku, then at Ukyo, then back at Senku again.

“Senku...? You’re Gen’s fling!”

Senku frowned.

“I knew it was weird for Lillian’s nephew to be working a job like this! Now it all makes sense!”

“Hey! I still need the money!” Senku grumbled.

“I’ll pay you, I’ll pay you,” Ryusui laughed. “Oh… when Gen finds out…”

Senku didn’t share the laugh. That was exactly his biggest fear.

Instead of answering, he focused on the apartment again. Thanks to Francois, much of it was already tidied up, and he could now see more details. Among them, the landline phone—with the cord yanked out.

Why hadn’t Gen answered?

As he walked toward the device, some magazines caught his attention. No… they weren’t magazines. They were books. Books signed by Gen Asagiri. That conversation came to mind—when he went to the show without knowing Gen was the person he was chatting with. He remembered criticizing that “fraud magician,” especially his books.

He felt a little stupid now.

He picked one up from the table and flipped through it. He still thought they were terrible.

“If you’re wondering—Gen didn’t write those,” Ukyo’s voice came from behind him.

“He didn’t?”

“No.” Ukyo quickly snapped a photo of the still-disconnected phone. “Let’s just say someone,” he gestured toward Ryusui, who was talking on the phone, “wanted to squeeze more money out of him. Gen was too busy, but he didn’t want to disappoint his fans. So he agreed to hire someone to ghostwrite them. Though… that’s what came out.” He pointed at the books Senku had already dropped on the table.

“That makes more sense. Though Asagiri still has terrible spelling. You can’t blame me for still believing he wrote them.”

Ukyo laughed at the comment while Ryusui returned to them.

“It’s done. All of Gen’s close contacts have instructions to report if they see him. We’ve also notified the police.”

Senku tensed. “Police? We don’t have enough evidence to accuse Charlotte. And Gen hasn’t even been missing for an hour.”

Ryusui smiled calmly. “With money, anything’s possible, kid. Though if they catch the makeup artist and there’s no proof, she’ll be released immediately.” His expression darkened. “You know what you have to do, don’t you?”

Senku didn’t respond right away. His eyes swept across the place again: the remnants of a messy, interrupted life. The crooked magazines, the missing photos, the phone with the ripped-out cord.

And the books.

Those damned ghostwritten books with Gen’s name and face on the cover—books he had criticized so many times, without knowing what they hid: the effort, the pressure, the burden of pretending to be okay in front of thousands.

“Give me a couple of hours,” he said at last, without taking his eyes off the wreckage Gen had left behind.

Because this time, he wasn’t going to let him down.

The sky had been gray for hours, but at last the rain began to ease. Not that it made much of a difference. He was already soaked.

He hadn’t had time to grab a jacket—hadn’t even thought about it. His shirt clung to his body like a second, translucent skin, cold and heavy. His shoes—soaked to the soul—dragged with every step he took down the wet path in the park. When he couldn’t take another step, he dropped onto the cement edge of an empty flowerbed, far from the main trails. At least if no one saw him, he could pretend he still had a shred of dignity.

Looking around, Gen knew he’d at least been smart. It was early, and with this rain, no one would come to the park. A perfect place to hide.

He hugged his knees, shivering. He wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or the adrenaline still coursing through him. On instinct, he reached for his phone to check the time, and as soon as he did, everything came rushing back.

The conversation.

The yelling.

The threat.

The revelation.

Senku.

Senku was Ishigami.

Ishigami was Senku.

And Senku had known. The whole time.

Every word they’d shared. Every message. Every awkward conversation… he already knew who Gen was.

And he said nothing.

Since when? Since their meeting at Lillian’s party? Since the first message? Before that?

He was a tech expert. Maybe he knew from the start and had just watched from his throne of scientific superiority, letting Gen talk like a fool.

Maybe that’s why he took the job as an investigator.

Maybe it was his way of getting back at him.

Gen felt like an idiot.

And to think he’d defended him so much. Valued him. Even started to feel—

No.

Gen cut off his own thoughts. No more Senku. No more Ishigami. No more whoever-the-hell-he-was.

He wiped away his tears clumsily, and his hand came back smeared black. Eyeliner, mascara, eyeshadow. Streaks of unfinished makeup.

He cursed under his breath.

Charlotte.

She had lied to him too.

And now… now that he knew everything, he had no idea what to do.

He rubbed his arms, trying to warm up, as if that could also chase away the exhaustion clouding his mind. He was drained. Not just physically. He was tired of everything.

“This should be simpler,” he murmured. “Things didn’t have to get this complicated.”

Where do I go?

Who do I go to?

He didn’t have his phone. No keys. Just the clothes on his back and a mind on fire.

And then, in a moment of silence, the only thing he wished for was that he had never met anyone. Not Ishigami. Not Senku. Not even Charlotte.

The world had felt safer when it was all a lie.

Senku only hoped his neighbors weren’t nosy enough to tell his father that he’d arrived home in a limousine that probably cost more than a couple years’ worth of rent.

Without saying goodbye to Ukyo or Ryusui, he got out of the car and walked straight to his building. They’d already agreed: if either of them knew anything about Gen, they’d inform the other immediately.

He didn’t bother waiting for the elevator. He ran up the stairs (he’d probably exercised more that week than in his entire life), and entered his apartment in one swift motion, without thinking.

His father was there. Cooking something and dancing to a Lillian song. The man smiled slightly when he saw him, but the expression vanished as soon as the sound came from Senku’s room. Then he looked at him again.

“You weren’t in your room?” he asked.

“No,” Senku replied, hurriedly kicking off his shoes. “It’s Chrome.”

The man blinked, processing the sentence. His mouth opened and closed, barely containing his surprise.

“Chrome’s been here all this time?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t add anything else. He passed his father and Manganese—who meowed for attention from his cushion—and headed straight to his room. He threw the door open, startling Chrome, who was furiously typing in front of the main computer.

“Damn it, Senku! Knock before you come in. Oh—hello, Mr. Ishigami.”

“What’s going on here?” Senku’s father asked, poking his head in behind them. His voice showed more confusion than annoyance, but he didn’t miss the chaos of the room: papers scattered on the floor, screens showing chats, folders, half-drunk cold coffee cups.

“Nothing,” Senku muttered.

“Nothing? Looks like you declared war in here.” The man crouched and picked up one of the papers. He frowned as he read the name. “Gen Asagiri? The magician? Why are you two investigating him?”

“I said it’s nothing—” Senku stopped. Actually, his father might be useful. He looked at him, considering the possibility. “Hey, old man. You’ve dealt with Lillian’s crazy fans before, haven’t you?”

Ishigami looked surprised, but nodded.

“Yes. It wasn’t very pleasant, to be honest. After we got married, we received a ton of threatening letters. Though... it was kind of fun when I exposed them publicly. Lillian wasn’t too happy about it, but they calmed down after that.”

“How did you do it?”

“Kid, you’re scary when you make that face.” His father chuckled nervously. “But well, they usually follow patterns. The username, for example. A lot of them reuse it without realizing. If you manage to connect their comments—threats, insults, public obsessions—and link them to a person, you can scare them pretty good with a simple report.”

“That’s all it takes?”

“That’ll just get them a mark on their record, and with luck they’ll be forced to do community service. But not much else. Why do you ask?”

Senku didn’t answer. Instead, he gestured with his hand and Chrome immediately understood. He powered on another screen and began searching online for everything he could find on Charlotte: her profiles, her messages, her old posts.

Ishigami watched the flow of data, then looked at his son with a hint of concern.

“It’s not enough to get them arrested, is it?”
“No,” Senku muttered. His fingers drummed on the table.
“But with a recorded confession, you can work wonders.”

Silence returned to the room. The hum of the fans was the only sound as the screens shifted, showing posts and names, repeated emojis, copied signatures across different accounts.

Senku rubbed his face. His mind was circling the same question over and over: What had Charlotte done? Was it serious enough for Gen to disappear?

He thought about what his father had said. The patterns. They needed proof. A recording would be enough.

A confession.

Senku stood up abruptly, pushing the chair back.

“I’m going to text her.”

Chrome looked at him.

“Charlotte?”

Senku nodded. He took out his phone and, without hesitation, added the number he knew by heart to his contacts.

“Who’s Charlotte?” his father asked, leaning closer. He frowned as he read the full name on the screen. “And why are you saving her as ‘Charlotte the bitch’?”

Chrome burst out laughing from his seat without taking his eyes off the monitor.

“Let’s just say I’m working on a small case,” said Senku.

He hit Send.

Chrome and his father exchanged glances, expectant. Not even a minute passed before the reply came in.

Senku reread the message a couple of times. What the hell was this woman talking about, blaming him?

Chrome lifted his head at the change in his expression. “What did she say?” he asked.

Senku didn’t reply. He just kept typing.

Senku slowly lowered his phone. The air in the room, thick with the heat from the machines and the white noise of Chrome typing, suddenly grew heavier. Chrome noticed immediately.

“What happened?”

Senku didn’t answer. He stared at the screen as if he could undo what he had read. His jaw tightened, fingers gripping the edge of the desk a bit harder than necessary.

“Did she do something to Asagiri?” Chrome asked cautiously.

“No. She told him.” Senku’s voice came out low. “She told him everything.”

Senku’s father, still in the room, stepped closer. He didn’t say anything at first. He simply stood beside him, reading what little he could see of the conversation. Then he looked down at his son and spoke plainly:

“Does that change anything?”

Senku took a deep breath. He closed the chat, rested his elbows on the desk, and covered his face with his hands for a moment. A brief pause. Then he lowered his arms again, controlled but more serious than usual.

“Yes. It changes everything.”

“You’re worried about what he thinks?” his father asked, voice free of judgment.

“No. I’m worried that now he’s alone, somewhere, after hearing it from her. I’m worried he thinks it was all a lie.” Senku looked up at the screens. “And I’m worried I can’t predict what he’ll do now.”

Chrome said nothing.

“Then calm down,” his father said. “And think. Emotions aren’t your thing. Finding solutions is.”

Senku held his gaze a few more seconds. He nodded slightly.

“Fine.” He straightened, checked the message history again. “I still have a chance with Charlotte. I’m going to make her trap herself.”

“You still plan to meet her?” Chrome asked, incredulous.

 “Yes. But it won’t be a negotiation.” His voice hardened. “It’s going to be a trap.”

The only response he received was an address and a time.

Senku smiled.

They could start the plan now.

They had her. At least, all the information they could find about her online.

She used the same handle on all her social media: CharAsagiri. And apparently, her favorite activity was threatening other girls in Gen's fan groups. She had also been banned from several of those groups due to her aggressive behavior, but somehow, that woman had gotten close enough to land a job near him.

While they went through account after account, Senku’s father left the room, still confused, with a look that clearly said: "We’ll talk about this later."

Senku nodded silently. He didn’t have time to explain now.

“What now?” Chrome saved everything to a flash drive and pulled it from the computer, handing it to Senku.

“Now we find Gen. She only agreed to meet if it’s with him.”

“And do you have any idea where he might be? What if he doesn’t even want to see her again?” Chrome frowned. “If I were him, I’d be terrified.”

“No. But I know they were trying to get the security footage from his building.”

Senku turned sharply. “Wait.”

He took out his phone and opened a new chat. He texted the number Ukyo had given him.

Ukyo replied almost immediately.

The file arrived. Senku opened it as soon as it finished downloading.

The video was low-quality, but clear in what mattered: Gen leaving the building in a hurry, not looking back. He wore light clothes, nothing useful for a rainy afternoon like that. And his steps were fast. He didn’t seem to have a clear destination.

Senku rewound the clip and reviewed the angle of the exit. He paused. Visualized the map of the area in his head.

Three possible routes out of the building. To the left: constant traffic. Straight ahead: a school zone. To the right...

Chrome watched silently.

“What time was this?” Senku asked, not taking his eyes off the video.

“Two in the afternoon,” Chrome replied after checking the metadata. “Fourteen-oh-three, to be exact.”

“Perfect.” Senku narrowed his eyes.

Too early for school dismissal. Too late for heavy office traffic.

Most of the businesses in that direction were cafés, small shops, supermarkets. Public zones. Noisy. Exposed.

“That’s not what he was looking for.” His voice lowered. “If he was running, his instincts would’ve taken him away from other people’s eyes.”

“So...?”

Senku stood up. He turned. Pulled out his phone.

“There’s a park about eight blocks in that direction. It’s the only open, semi-secluded space with little movement at that time. The high school is two blocks before the park. The rain and the timing make the chances of anyone passing by almost zero.”

“And Gen would know that,” Chrome concluded. “Because he lived there.”

Senku nodded. “He wasn’t thinking clearly, but his choices must’ve still followed some logic. He’s famous, after all. If he didn’t want to be seen, he’d know exactly where to go.”

“You think he’s there?”

Senku didn’t hesitate. He grabbed his jacket and left the room.

“I’ll find out.”

Gen woke up.

Had he cried himself to sleep?

Pathetic.

Hooray, Gen! Another achievement unlocked as a famous star: sleeping on the street like a bum. Bravo.

He stretched his back, arms, and neck with slow, clumsy movements. Everything cracked. He let out a couple of groans as he got up, feeling how the damp ground had seeped into his bones.

The rain had finally stopped, but the sky was still gray, and it was probably already late.

“How long was I asleep…?”

He looked around at the trees, the empty benches, the muddy path. No one. Not a soul. At least he hadn’t been woken up and fined for sleeping in a public park. That was something.

And despite the hard ground, the cold, the soaked clothes... he had to admit it: he felt a little more relaxed. Just a little. Enough to think a bit more clearly. Or pretend to.

“Okay. What should I do now?” he muttered.

The list of options was as chaotic as he was.

Go to the police?

Call his manager and tell him he was having a breakdown in the middle of a park? Look for a taxi? Ask Ryusui for help?

Go back home, find his phone, and text Senku?

No.

Gen shook his head immediately, as if he could shake the idea loose.

That last one was the stupidest thing he could do.

He ran a hand down his face, noticing for the first time how cold his skin felt. When was the last time he had felt this miserable?

He sat down again, elbows on his knees, fingers tangled in his wet hair. He had no phone. No money. And he didn’t even know if Charlotte was still in his apartment or not. How was he supposed to react to all of this? How could he even think straight?

As he kept evaluating his pathetic situation, something caught his attention.

A sound.

Gen froze.

It wasn’t loud. Just the subtle crunch of steps on wet leaves.

Someone approaching.

Charlotte? Had she followed him here?

He turned immediately, nearly stumbling in the process.

Maybe not. Maybe it was a neighbor who had seen him and was now coming over to get him out of the park because it was strange for an adult to hang around too long.

Though he couldn’t have too much hope—last time he’d let his guard down, things had gone terribly wrong.

He could run. His apartment wasn’t far. If it was Charlotte, he would just run again, hide inside, and call the police.

The footsteps came closer. His heart pounded in his chest at once. Gen braced himself to run and—

“Gen.”

He stopped. His entire body stopped.

He recognized the voice instantly.

He didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

All the energy he’d gathered to run vanished as if it had never been there.

His legs refused to move. His hands hung useless at his sides. And for a moment, he even forgot how to breathe.

The last person he wanted to talk to right now.

Ishigami. No. Senku Ishigami was watching him with those ruby-red eyes that had caught his attention at Lillian’s party.

He looked exhausted. And while his jacket was dry, the shirt underneath clung to him, soaked. He must’ve been looking for him for a while.

“I finally found you.”

Just hearing him, Gen didn’t know whether he wanted to run toward him or away.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, voice barely audible, swallowing with difficulty.

He wasn’t ready for the answer.

He didn’t know if he’d be ready for anything Senku said now.

“We were looking for you.” Senku’s voice was low. “We figured out what happened with Charlotte. But there wasn’t a single trace of you. You gave us quite a scare, you know?”

“How did you know I was here?”

“You’ve always acted logically.” Senku gave a small shrug. “I figured it out.”

Gen swallowed. So now he was that easy to predict.

“You knew about Charlotte?” he interrupted without thinking.

Senku hesitated.

“I…” he seemed to be searching for an excuse. He found none. “Yes. But only a couple of hours before she acted. I’m sorry. If I had said something earlier…”

“And did you know who I was?”

The question came out like a blade.

“Look, Gen—”

“Answer.”

The ruby-eyed boy let out a long sigh. “Yes.”

“For how long?”

“When Chrome gave me your phone data. That was it. I was surprised too. Very.”

“And you didn’t plan to tell me?” His voice trembled for the first time. Not from fear, but from outrage. “Were you going to keep lying to me?”

Senku frowned, but didn’t back down. “We should clarify that I’m not the only one who lied here.”

Gen stared at him, incredulous. “Excuse me? I had my reasons. Maybe the fact that there was literally a crazy woman stalking me for months gives you an idea. I couldn’t just tell you who I was.”

“And that’s why you used your bodyguards’ names?” Senku took a step forward. “I didn’t tell you I knew who you were. But you… you hid and changed even your damn profession.”

“I told you it was dangerous!”

“I know!” Senku roared. “And believe me, when I found out, I was angry. Furious, in fact. I felt like an idiot. But I understood why you did it. That’s why… that’s why I kept talking to you.” His voice lowered instantly, as if the intensity itself hurt. “Look, Gen… I didn’t come to fight. I want to help you. So this can all end.”

“Because it’s part of your job?” Gen let out a dry laugh. “Well let me tell you I don’t need your help anymore. I already know it’s Charlotte. She confessed herself. I’ll report it to the police and she’ll be arrested. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they pay you.”

“Can you stop acting like I’m the villain here?!” Senku took another step, closing the distance. He was too close, and Gen had to step back. “I’m doing this because I want to help you. Do you think your statement will be enough? She has your damn phone, Gen! Before the police can act, she’ll ruin your career.”

Gen blinked, shaken by the words. “She kept my phone?”

“Yes.” Senku nodded. His expression was serious, but not reproachful. “And she also threatened to post everything.”

Shit, shit, shit.

“I know.” Senku lowered his voice to a near whisper, stepping closer to Gen again. “That’s why I came to find you. Because I won’t let her do it.”

He grabbed Gen by the shoulders, forcing him to look at him. “I could’ve said something earlier, yes. I’ve regretted it a thousand times. But when I found out, it was already too late, and if I told you without proof, she could’ve run, or made everything worse.”

Silence returned, but this time it wasn’t hostile.

Gen looked up, more exhausted than angry.

“And why didn’t you tell me you knew who I was?”

Senku shrugged a little—an oddity in him. “Because I didn’t know how you’d react. Because, honestly… I didn’t want you to stop talking to me.”

“So… everything we talked about was real?”

“Yes.” Senku thought for a moment and reached into the pocket of his damp coat, pulling out his phone. “Wanna see something that’ll probably make you laugh at me?”

Gen tilted his head curiously. “What is it?”

Senku turned the screen.

There it was, a simple:

It was the message Gen had received the first time—the one that started everything. Though he wasn’t the sender.

Reading below, Gen found another message. A reply from Chrome.

Gen blinked, and a surprised laugh escaped him. “I actually thought you were an AI.”

Senku laughed too, voice a little hoarse. “You thought I was trying to scam you.”

“Who wouldn’t think that?” Gen raised an eyebrow, amused. “Wait… I never found out how that assignment went!”

“I didn’t tell you?” Senku looked sideways at him. “Your answers were thrilling! I got a perfect score in philosophy for the first time.”

Gen opened his mouth, then closed it. “…oh. I wasn’t the one who answered.”

“Huh? That’s true. Your voice didn’t sound anything like back then.”

Gen scratched his neck, embarrassed. “I didn’t want you to think I was dumb, so I asked a friend to answer for me. Maybe you know him… Tsukasa? The fighter?”

Senku blinked. Then narrowed his eyes, as if trying to piece things together. And then, he burst out laughing.

“Hey!” Gen protested, without much force. “Maybe, with a little more time, I could’ve answered myself.”

“It’s not that.” Senku wiped his face with a hand, still smiling. “Tell me, did Tsukasa go to Lillian’s party?”

“Yes.”

“That makes sense, I talked to you that time without knowing it was you. Then I heard Tsukasa’s voice and thought he was the person I’d been chatting with.”

Gen looked at him, amazed. “I didn’t know that.”

“Now that I think about it, we were both idiots.” Senku reached out and grabbed Gen’s arm, who gasped at the touch. The sleeve of his shirt was pushed up and the burn scar, weaker but still visible, was still there.

Right.

Gen smiled. “When you said you noticed the great magician Asagiri had burned himself in his last act, I panicked,” Gen confessed. “I thought you’d pieced it together because I mentioned a similar incident.”

Senku didn’t let go of his arm. His fingers, unintentionally, traced the outline of the scar gently. “Yeah, that made your show more exciting.”

“A second-degree burn excited you?” Gen laughed.

“I was already guessing all your mentalist tricks, so that one surprised me, yes.”

The nickname did something to Gen. Something near his chest tightened with joy.

“I’m sorry I disappeared back then.” It was all he could say. “And I’m sorry I didn’t have enough trust to tell you who I was.”

“It’s okay.” Senku lowered Gen’s sleeve but didn’t let go. Gen didn’t pull away either—he liked the feeling.

“I…”

“Gen!”

The shout startled them both. Only then did Gen realize how close they were, and he stepped back. Ukyo was running toward them and hugged him tightly.

“Why were you here? I was so worried when the call dropped!”

“Ugh, Ukyo… let me breathe.”

Senku coughed behind them. “How did you find us?”

“Thanks to him.” Ukyo pointed behind him. Chrome smiled nervously. And he wasn’t alone. Ryusui and François were there too. Even Tsukasa, who rushed toward Gen like a worried mother. “He found Senku’s phone location.”

Senku shot Chrome a sharp look. “You tracked my phone?”

“Yes! Sorry! But you weren’t showing up. And it’s getting close to the hour…”

“I still think this is a terrible plan,” Tsukasa said, crossing his arms. “Aren’t the proofs we have enough?”

“Well… they are, but only for a light report and a minimal sentence.” Senku ran a hand through his hair, as if the obviousness annoyed him. “According to Article 221, section 1 of the Japanese Penal Code, ‘Anyone who threatens another’s life, freedom, or reputation online shall be punished with up to two years of prison or a fine of up to 300,000 yen.’ So yes, if we gather evidence, we can escalate the charges. The problem is Charlotte can deny everything. Say someone hacked her phone, that the messages are fake, whatever. And technically… there’s nothing to contradict her for sure.”

“Also,” Chrome added, getting serious for the first time, “for a formal cyberbullying report, you need verifiable screenshots, proof they were sent from her device, forensic phone evidence, and—yeah, I know, it sounds hard—but we don’t have any of that. And the stalker has your phone, so we’ve got none of it.”

There was silence. Everyone looked at them, taking in the situation.

Ryusui was the first to react. “Ha. I’m liking you guys more and more. Did you study every harassment law or what?”

“Just enough,” Senku muttered.

“Wait, wait,” Gen spoke, now wearing a clean shirt Ukyo and Tsukasa had brought him. “What’s your plan, then? And what about the data you saved?”

Senku dodged the first question. “Let’s just say… technically, what we did isn’t exactly legal either. We need your phone. Or a confession from her.”

Gen sighed, exhausted. “Both things are difficult.”

“Actually,” Senku thought a bit about how to say it, “I have a way to get the second one.”

Gen raised an eyebrow, suspicious. “Which is?”

All eyes turned to him.

Senku didn’t move, but lowered his voice seriously.

“You have to get her to confess.”

“Feeling nervous?”

Senku carefully adjusted a tiny microphone inside the neckline of Gen’s shirt, making sure it was hidden under the fabric.

“I’ve performed in front of thousands, darling. This is nothing.”

Gen was looking at himself in the mirror as he spoke. His fingers were touching up the last details of his makeup: dark eyeliner, lips in a cold, elegant shade. It was the first time in weeks he’d done his makeup himself. But he’d decided to keep the style Charlotte had imposed for months. Not out of fondness. It was part of the plan.

“There are studies about this, you know?” he said while brushing along the contour of his cheeks. “In 2019, the University of Glasgow published research on how makeup can create familiarity and a sense of trust in parasocial relationships. Basically, if I look like the ‘Gen’ she thinks she loves, her guard will drop.”

Gen put the brush down, satisfied with the result.

“So? How do I look?”

Senku looked him over for a second before answering, dryly: “Terrible.”

Gen gave him an indignant face. “You’re so cruel, Senku, darling.”

Senku let out a short laugh. “You talk exactly like you write.”

“Well, that’s because it is me.”

“Alright, stop flirting already, you two,” Ukyo cut in with an amused smile as he walked into the room. They both blushed and looked away like they’d just been caught stealing.

Tsukasa followed behind Ukyo, tall and serious as always, and handed Gen a granola bar. Gen ate it almost without chewing. He hadn’t had a bite all day, and Tsukasa, as usual, had fulfilled his self-imposed duty to bring him the first edible thing he could find.

Tsukasa was looking at him with a faintly amused expression, too, and Gen cursed them both internally. Then he crossed his arms and spoke in a practical tone.

“Alright. It should be simple: Gen runs into Charlotte. If he can, he talks to her. If not, he’ll at least get her to say something. Either way, we’ll be nearby, ready for any sign. There will also be several officers stationed in the area. They’ll grab her the moment she does anything suspicious.”

Gen turned back to the mirror, nodding. He was nervous. He could feel it in his chest, on his tongue, in his fingers that wouldn’t stay still. But he would never admit it.

Senku was watching him carefully and, as if he could read him, stepped closer and made a small motion with his hand—like a nudge without touching.

“It’s gonna be fine, mentalist. Just scream and a bunch of gorillas will come save you.”

“How comforting,” Gen muttered, though a smile escaped him.

He took a deep breath. Stood up. Straightened his collar.

“Alright. Let’s do this.”

The café was almost insultingly charming. Gen loved this place and its food. The décor was pastel pink, with golden details and white shelves adorned with vintage cups and small bouquets of dried flowers. In the display cases, pastries that looked like they came straight out of a magazine gleamed under the warm lights. Glazed strawberries, tall meringues, sponge cakes that probably had more sugar than Gen’s entire diet for a month.

And yet, nothing churned his stomach as much as seeing her there.

Charlotte was sitting at a table by the window, her silhouette outlined against the glow of the afternoon light. She wasn’t dressed as usual. Instead of her usual sober professional makeup artist outfit, she wore a light, almost childish dress, with lace sleeves and a white bow in her hair. There was sweetness in her appearance, a feigned delicacy that perfectly matched the place.

“You came!” she shouted upon seeing him enter. Her voice was sharp, excited, and all the customers briefly turned toward them. Charlotte jumped up, smiling as if nothing had happened.

Gen swallowed. He adjusted his jacket and smiled.

“I came,” he said simply.

He approached with steady steps, though inside everything trembled. As he sat down, he felt the imperceptible brush of the microphone beneath his shirt.

“I thought you wouldn’t,” she said, clasping her hands on the table. “After how you reacted…”

“I was thinking it over,” Gen answered, expressionless. “I needed to understand your reasons.”

“My reasons?” She tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. Then she clicked her tongue sweetly. “Oh… of course. Since you ran off, you couldn’t hear me, right?”

“Charlotte. Let’s get to the point, okay?”

For a second, the smile on her face wavered. Barely. But it was enough for Gen to know she’d felt it.

“I thought I’d made clear how much you mean to me, Gen.”

“And you thought sending me threatening messages was the best way to show it?”

She blinked. Lowered her gaze to her coffee cup, stirring it without touching it with her lips. Then she sighed theatrically.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Damn. She was going to deny it.

Gen clenched his teeth inside, but on the outside he just narrowed his eyes.

Alright. He could try something else.

“You told Senku—”

“You still talk to Senku?” She frowned, the sweetness wiped away for a moment.

Bingo.

“I thought you’d have realized by now. He distracts you. He doesn’t… he doesn’t really understand who you are. I’ve been watching. He changes everything about you.”

Gen rested his elbow on the table, leaned slightly toward her.

“Oh, yeah? And you understand me?”

Charlotte looked at him, with a mix of pride and tenderness. “Always. Before you were famous. I see the real Gen Asagiri. That’s why I know what you need.”

“And what I need is for you to spy on me? To stalk me? To follow me?”

“That wasn’t stalking!” she raised her voice, then immediately lowered it when some looks turned toward them. “It wasn’t stalking. It was… concern. I had to protect you. Because if I didn’t, no one else would.”

Gen tilted his head.

“You really think that?”

She nodded.

“And the messages?” he asked calmly. “Were those out of concern too?”

Charlotte blinked. Once. Twice.

“What messages?”

“The anonymous ones. The ones that came to my phone. At my apartment you admitted it was you.”

Charlotte parted her lips. Said nothing.

Gen fixed his eyes on her, with a cold softness.

“Was that you too?”

She shook her head. “No… I never… why would you think that of me, Gen?” She lied.

“And my phone?” he continued, giving no room for her answer. “Do you have it?”

“What? No. Of course not.” Charlotte let out a nervous laugh. “That’s a very serious accusation, don’t you think?”

Gen looked at her silently for a few more seconds.

Then, with impeccable calm, he said:

“Alright. I asked because we tracked it.”

Charlotte stayed completely still.

Gen rested the little spoon on the edge of the plate, as if the moment meant nothing.

Charlotte didn’t speak. Her mouth was slightly open, eyes fixed on him, as if her world were unraveling in slow motion.

Gen leaned a little forward.

“I thought if I gave you a chance to explain, maybe you’d tell me the truth. Maybe you’d defend yourself. But… if you prefer to keep lying…”

“I didn’t do it,” she said, but her voice no longer sounded firm. “I don’t have your phone. I don’t… I don’t know why you’d say that… And I’ve been taking care of you but messages?” She laughed nervously. “I don’t even have your number.”

“That’s funny,” he said, as if suddenly remembering something trivial, “because I asked Ukyo if he’d given you my address and he said no. But you came to my house yesterday, just after the last messages the stalker sent me. That, combined with the theft of my belongings, and identity theft…”

Charlotte paled.

“I didn’t steal anyone’s identity.”

Gen smiled without joy.

“Really? I clearly remember the messages where you said you were Senku.”

Charlotte tried to get up, but Gen raised an eyebrow.

“Are you leaving?” he asked in an almost friendly tone. “That would look bad on your record if I report you.”

She froze.

“Are… are you going to report me?” she asked in a faint voice.

Gen didn’t answer right away. He leaned back against the chair, crossed his legs calmly. “Report you?” he repeated at last, thoughtful. “I don’t know. Should I?”

Charlotte looked at him with wide eyes. Gen held her gaze a second longer before smiling, thin and cold.

“Relax. If it wasn’t you, you have nothing to fear. We’re just opening an investigation. A formal one.”

She swallowed hard.

“Investigation?”

“Of course. We’ve already filed a complaint for harassment, illegal access to accounts, identity theft, and theft. The phone still hasn’t appeared, but as I told you, it was tracked. And since someone pretended to be Senku online to manipulate me and send me threatening messages, the tech team is already reviewing IP addresses, connections, all that stuff. There’s nothing to fear… if it wasn’t you.”

Charlotte moved back a few centimeters in her seat, as if the air had thickened.

“Gen…”

“Yes?” he said kindly, stirring the spoon in his tea. “Are you worried about something?”

“What if someone is framing me? What if someone… manipulated everything to make it look like it was me?”

“Sure. That would be a very convenient possibility,” Gen answered without raising his voice. “And if that’s the case, everything will come to light. It always does.”

Charlotte opened and closed her mouth, desperate to find a crack. A gap in the structure. But Gen didn’t give her one.

“For example,” he added with false innocence, “if the phone showed up at your house, or if traces of your devices were found in the messages I received… that would be a problem. But if there’s nothing, well… then there’s nothing to fear.”

Some people in the café turned around. She was breathing heavily. “You can’t do this to me,” she murmured.

Gen looked down at her, completely serene.

“I’m not doing anything to you, Charlotte. I just came to have tea with you.”

And then, as if he really didn’t know her, as if he were seeing a figure already without a face, he added calmly:

“But you should start thinking about what you’re going to say when you’re called to testify.”

She looked at him as if he had just become unrecognizable.

“Gen… please.”

“Please what?”

“I did it because I loved you,” she blurted out, and as she said it, her voice took on a more urgent, almost pleading tone. “I wanted to help you. No one else understands you like I do, Gen. No one knows what you’ve been through, how fame affects you, how all this wears you down.”

The air in her throat was breaking. But she didn’t stop. “So I thought of something better. If you got scared, if you felt your secrets were in danger… you’d erase them. Hide them. Distance yourself from everyone. Even from that guy! And it would be perfect! But you didn’t answer, so I had to follow you to your house and see what was going on!”

Gen didn’t answer. He just looked at her.

The silence was suffocating, as if every noise in the café had faded miles away.

Charlotte lowered her voice. Her eyes were already wet.

“I don’t want all this… to be destroyed,” Charlotte finally murmured, in a last thread of a voice. “Not after everything I did for you.”

He tilted his head.

“This?”

She didn’t answer.

Gen leaned slightly toward her. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

“Charlotte… there was never a ‘this’.”

And then he sat back down, took his cup, and drank his tea with all the elegance in the world, as if he had just erased a ghost.

Charlotte staggered away, and didn’t look back.

The recording was still on.

And Gen, at last, could breathe.

He slowly unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, allowing himself to feel the slight touch of the microphone stuck to his skin. He had made it.

A soft buzz vibrated in the pocket of his pants. He took out the spare phone they had given him. It was a shame, he probably wouldn’t get his own back. Still, he smiled when he saw it was a message from Senku’s number.

Gen tossed and turned in his bed, pulled the covers up to his neck, and sighed contentedly.

Much better than sleeping on the wet ground of a park.

If only they would stop ringing that damn doorbell.

He let out a muffled growl, twisted like an annoyed cat, and with a grumpy gesture, fixed his tangled hair and smoothed his clothes as best he could before dragging himself to the door.

As soon as he opened it, he came face to face with a mocking smile he knew all too well.

Senku.

Senku, standing in the doorway of his apartment.

Senku, looking at him with a “you look terrible” face.

And Gen… he must have looked like a mess.

Before he could slam the door in his face and run off to get ready, Senku pushed the door open brazenly and walked in like he lived there.

“Really, mentalist? Don’t you learn to ask who it is before opening? One of these days some crazy person is going to walk in that door.”

“Ha, ha, so funny,” Gen shot back venomously. “What are you doing here so early? And how do you even know I live here?”

“First: it’s past noon already, but I won’t criticize you for sleeping in after what you went through. Second: I came by yesterday when you disappeared. By the way, this looks better.”

Senku glanced around the apartment, clearly inspecting every detail.

“Francois fixed it pretty well,” Gen admitted, arms crossed. “Although… well, some things are still missing.”

He pointed to an empty shelf where photos, mementos, and little trophies used to be. All stolen by Charlotte.

“Yeah,” said Senku, now more serious. “I actually came to talk about that.”

“Wasn’t there someone better for that?”

Senku didn’t reply to his joke. “The cops caught her as soon as she left the café. She had your phone and hers in her pockets. And considering she admitted to stalking you, following you until she found your address, and on top of that, trying to impersonate me… I don’t think her trial’s going well.”

“What about my stuff?”

“Seized for now. Evidence for the case. But…”

Senku crouched in front of him, pulled something from the inside pocket of his jacket, and handed it to him. A completely new phone.

“Don’t thank me,” he added before Gen could open his mouth. “Ryusui bought it. I just came to give it to you.”

Gen took it with a mix of relief and suspicion.

“Still… thanks. Really, Senku.”

“I told you, no thanks. Besides… this is my job, remember?”

Gen squinted.

“What?”

Senku raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Your case. I was the investigator. I told you if you didn’t figure out my job before it ended, you owed me a favor.”

Gen paled a little.

“Don’t you dare…”

“I already won,” said Senku with a dangerously satisfied smile. “The rules were clear. You didn’t discover me in time. You owe me.”

“No! That was cheating! I never would’ve guessed Ishigami and you were the same person…”

“Want to add a retroactive clause to the deal?” he winked. “Too late, Gen. You lost.”

Gen covered his face with both hands and muttered:

“Bastard.”

Senku settled beside him, resting his elbows on his knees.

“So… what’s the favor going to be?”

Gen slowly lowered his hands and looked at him sideways.

“That’s why you came to collect?”

“No,” said Senku, shrugging. “I came to see how you were. But if you also want to pay your debt…”

Gen huffed, exasperated. But a tiny, resigned, warm smile appeared on his lips.

“First breakfast. Then favors. I’m emotionally fragile.”

“Fragile my ass,” Senku replied, already getting up to go to the kitchen. “Besides, it’s lunchtime already.”

“Perfect, then I can have cola.”

“What? No! Didn’t I already tell you how terrible it is for your health?”

“Well, we all have our vices, don’t we?”

Senku rolled his eyes. “I can make a better one, you know.”

“What? Cola? Impossible. It wouldn’t be the same.”

“Maybe… but maybe you’d like it more. And it’s healthier.”

Gen eyed him suspiciously.

Senku kept talking while rummaging through Gen’s fridge. “You’re missing ingredients. I can come another day and make it, how about that?”

That sounded like a good idea. But when Gen looked up, his gaze landed on the calendar. Right.

“I think that’s going to have to wait, darling.”

“Mmm?” murmured Senku, pulling out a couple of eggs. “What do you mean? You don’t want me here anymore?”

“Not that.” Gen gently pushed him aside. “I got a contract for a tour in the United States. Remember the photo I sent you? They’ll schedule my flight soon. I’m going to sign the contract. Then I’ll come back to finish the shows I have left, and after that, I’ll travel back there.”

He sighed. He didn’t miss the reason he’d had a vacation, but he missed the vacation nonetheless; his schedule would be packed for months.

“I see,” said Senku. “Then I’ll send you a message when I’m in the US and bother you there.”

Gen blinked. “You know it’s not that simple, right?”

Senku looked at him confused. Then he remembered.

“Ah. Right. You don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“Lillian isn’t my aunt. She’s my stepmother.”

Gen blinked. “What?”

“Because of all the scandal when she married my father, they decided it’d be better not to talk about me in public. But my dad insists on taking me everywhere, so we ended up with the story that I’m his nephew. Anyway, they’ll move to America first, and I’ll join them after I graduate. So you won’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I think you were hiding more things than I was.”

“At least I didn’t use my bodyguard’s name.” Senku teased.

“That was the first thing that came to mind, okay?!”

The wind had messed up his hair just after he styled it, as if the universe was determined to sabotage every one of his photos. Gen sighed, patiently pushed the white lock away from his forehead with his fingers, and turned, searching for the perfect angle. The light was good, the crowd kept a reasonable distance, and the Statue of Liberty stood behind him as if pointing at him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, tilted his head, and posed.