The city was cold by the time Izana and Dante arrived at the docks.
Not raining anymore.
The streets still carried the damp shine left behind from earlier weather, lights reflecting faintly across the pavement as black cars lined the industrial road near the warehouse district.
Large cargo ships rested silently near the harbour.
Men moved between containers in the distance.
Everything smelled faintly of metal, smoke, and seawater.
Izana stepped out of the car first.
Black coat.
Dark gloves.
Expression unreadable.
The second his shoes touched the pavement, the atmosphere around the warehouse shifted immediately.
People noticed him.
Even before they properly saw his face.
Dante exited beside him carrying several folders beneath one arm.
"…You think they know they're about to disappoint you?" he asked dryly.
Izana started walking toward the warehouse entrance.
"…They should."
Dante sighed quietly.
"…That's somehow worse."
Two guards near the entrance straightened immediately when Izana approached.
Neither spoke.
Neither dared.
The large warehouse doors were already open.
Bright industrial lights illuminated stacks of crates arranged throughout the center of the building.
Armed men stood nearby pretending not to stare too directly at Izana.
The dealer stood waiting near the largest shipment.
Middle-aged.
Expensive suit.
Sweating despite the cold.
The moment he noticed Izana enter, he forced a smile.
"Boss," he greeted quickly.
"Everything arrived exactly on schedule."
Izana didn't respond immediately.
He simply walked past him.
Slow.
Controlled.
The dealer's smile weakened slightly.
Dante followed behind Izana calmly while flipping through the paperwork.
"…Shipment total matches the original order," Dante said casually.
The dealer nodded quickly.
"Yes, exactly. Brand new imports. Best condition available."
Izana stopped beside the nearest crate.
One gloved hand rested against the wooden edge for a moment before he pulled it open fully.
Inside—
rows of weapons carefully packed in foam lining.
Correct models.
Correct serial range.
At first glance, everything looked perfect.
The dealer smiled again.
"…As requested."
Izana reached inside the crate and picked one up.
Heavy metal rested comfortably in his hand.
He checked it silently.
Turned it slightly beneath the warehouse lights.
Dante watched him carefully.
Because Izana always noticed things first.
Always.
Several seconds passed.
Then Izana's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
Dante saw it instantly.
The dealer didn't.
Izana's thumb brushed slowly along the grip of the gun.
A faint scratch near the edge.
Wear marks near the safety.
Small.
But there.
Used.
Izana said nothing.
Instead, he calmly reached into another crate and picked up a second weapon.
Checked the barrel.
The slide.
The chamber.
More wear.
Old residue.
Not new.
The dealer shifted awkwardly now.
"…Is there a problem?"
Izana still didn't answer.
He grabbed a third weapon.
Then a fourth.
Every single one carried signs of use.
Small things most people would miss.
But not him.
Never him.
The warehouse had become completely silent now.
Even the men near the back stopped moving.
Watching.
Waiting.
Izana suddenly threw the gun back into the crate.
The loud metal crash echoed violently through the warehouse.
The dealer flinched immediately.
Dante slowly closed the paperwork folder in his hands.
Because now it started.
Izana finally looked at the dealer.
Cold red eyes locking onto him completely.
The man visibly stiffened beneath the stare.
Izana's voice was quiet when he finally spoke.
"…Remind me what type of weapons you purchased."
The dealer swallowed slightly.
"…Brand new imports."
Izana tilted his head slightly.
"…And?"
"…Unused condition."
Izana reached into the crate again.
Pulled another weapon free.
Then slowly held it up toward the dealer.
"…Correct model," Izana said calmly.
The dealer nodded too fast.
"Yes. Exactly."
Izana's gaze sharpened slightly.
"…What condition did you request them in?"
The dealer hesitated this time.
"…New."
A pause.
"…Unused."
A faint smirk appeared at the corner of Izana's mouth.
Not amusement.
Something colder.
More dangerous.
Then suddenly—
he threw the gun directly at the dealer.
The man barely caught it before stumbling backward slightly.
Several nearby guards tensed immediately.
The warehouse went dead silent again.
Izana stepped closer slowly.
"…Does that look new and unused to you?"
The dealer looked down at the weapon in his hands.
Then back at Izana.
"…Boss, I—."
Izana interrupted him instantly.
"…Answer the question."
"…No."
Izana's expression remained completely calm.
Which somehow made it worse.
Dante leaned casually against one of the crates nearby.
"…You should've lied. At least commit to the mistake."
The dealer ignored him completely.
"…There must've been some confusion with the shipment."
Izana stared at him silently.
The dealer continued speaking quickly now.
"One of the workers probably mixed the crates by accident—."
Izana reached into his coat.
The movement alone made several men nearby tense immediately.
Then—
his knife appeared.
Silver blade flashing beneath the warehouse lights.
The dealer stopped talking instantly.
Everyone in the room stared at the knife.
Because everyone there understood what it meant when Izana held it.
Dante watched quietly.
No interruption.
No reaction.
This wasn't unusual.
The unusual part was that the dealer was still breathing.
Izana rotated the knife slowly between his fingers.
Effortless.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
"…You inspected these personally?" Izana asked quietly.
The dealer swallowed hard.
"…Yes."
"…Then you knowingly brought me used weapons."
"No—."
Izana took another step closer.
"…You knowingly wasted my time."
The dealer's breathing became visibly uneven now.
"It wasn't intentional."
Izana tilted his head slightly.
"…That improves nothing."
Silence.
The blade turned once more between his fingers.
The dealer looked terrified now.
And honestly—
he should be.
Everyone inside the warehouse knew exactly how this usually ended.
One mistake.
One insult.
One lie.
And Izana's knife would already be buried in someone's throat.
Dante watched the dealer carefully.
The man knew it too.
That was the worst part.
The fear.
The waiting.
The certainty.
The dealer suddenly spoke again too quickly.
"We can replace the shipment immediately."
No response.
"We'll have the correct crates here tonight."
Still nothing.
"No delays. No extra charge."
Izana continued staring at him silently.
Then Dante finally spoke from behind him.
"…You should stop talking."
The dealer immediately shut his mouth.
Izana looked at the weapon still clutched awkwardly in the man's hands.
Then at the crates.
Then finally back at him.
Several long seconds passed.
Then—
slowly—
Izana closed the knife.
The sharp click echoed loudly through the warehouse.
The dealer blinked in confusion.
Dante did too.
Because that wasn't normal.
Izana slid the knife back beneath his coat calmly.
Then turned around.
And started walking toward the exit.
Silence followed him instantly.
Nobody moved at first because nobody understood what just happened.
The dealer remained frozen holding the gun awkwardly against his chest.
Alive.
Still alive.
Dante stared after Izana briefly before pushing himself off the crate.
"…Congratulations," he muttered while walking past the dealer.
"…You survived personal growth."
Then he followed Izana outside.
Cold air hit immediately after leaving the warehouse.
The docks were quieter now.
Only distant ship horns and the sound of waves breaking softly against the harbour filled the night air.
Izana walked toward the black car waiting nearby.
Dante caught up beside him quickly.
"…Izana."
No response.
"…You let him go."
Izana opened the car door calmly.
"…Yes."
Dante stared at him another second before getting into the car beside him.
The driver pulled away from the docks slowly.
City lights passed outside the windows in blurred reflections.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Dante leaned back into the seat slightly.
"…You know everyone in that warehouse expected a body tonight."
Izana looked out the window quietly.
"…I know."
"That guy absolutely thought he was about to die."
Silence.
Dante studied him carefully now.
"…Six months ago you would've killed him before he finished the first excuse."
Izana's eyes remained on the city outside.
Cold expression unchanged.
"…Probably."
Dante blinked slightly at the honesty.
"…That's concerningly self-aware."
No response.
The car continued through the streets.
Then Dante sighed quietly.
"…You've changed."
Izana finally looked at him.
Not irritated.
Not threatening.
Just calm.
"…No."
"Yes, you have."
Izana looked away again.
Dante continued anyway.
"…You still scare people. You still threaten people. But before, you used to look for reasons."
Silence.
"…Now you just look tired."
That finally earned a reaction.
Small.
Almost invisible.
Izana's hand shifted briefly toward the inside of his coat near where the knife rested hidden.
Still there.
Unused.
Dante noticed immediately.
"…You thought about it though."
"…Yes."
"And?"
Izana's gaze stayed fixed on the passing lights outside.
"…Leah hates blood on my clothes."
Dante stared at him.
Then laughed suddenly.
Actually laughed.
"…That's the reason?"
Izana remained calm.
"…Partially."
Dante shook his head slowly in disbelief.
"…You became domestic."
"No."
"You literally stopped committing murder because your wife gets upset."
"…Incorrect."
Dante raised an eyebrow.
Izana finally looked at him again.
"…Zarek also grabs my sleeves."
Dante went completely silent for two seconds.
Then leaned back into the seat dramatically.
"…That is somehow worse."
Izana looked back out the window.
Cold city lights reflected faintly in his eyes.
But despite the suit.
Despite the knife.
Despite the business trip and the dangerous world waiting for him outside that car—
there was still a faint pale mark near the cuff of his sleeve.
Small.
Almost invisible.
A tiny handprint left behind from where Zarek grabbed him before he left home.
And Izana still hadn't covered it.