Breathing grew harder. My heart slammed faster and faster, loudly pounding in my ears.
That was when a gray-furred hand ripped the phone out of my grip.
I jerked my head up.
Kazuo stood there. His eyes were dark with something between anger and fear.
"Don't look at that," he said. "It won't make it better."
"There are more of these. Aren't there?" My voice came out rough.
He didn't answer.
"And how long has this been going on?" I pressed.
He exhaled slowly, then dropped onto a nearby stool, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Do you remember what we talked about last time?" he asked quietly. "This is exactly what I meant."
I didn't take my eyes off him.
"You have to decide what kind of future you want for yourself," he continued. "And yeah… I didn't tell you about this before. I didn't want to scare you or mess with your head. But if I'm honest, truly honest, I'm scared too. The tension out there is getting worse, and I have no idea how far it might go."
A nervous laugh slipped out of me. "You're scared?"
"Yeah. Of course I am," he said. "But I don't want anyone else to see it. I don't want people walking in here and sensing that something's wrong. I don't want them to feel that same fear. So yeah… I act like everything's fine. That doesn't mean it's easy."
He watched me for a long moment, then lowered his gaze to his hands. He looked far more tired than I'd realized. Maybe even older.
"I knew it wouldn't stay hidden forever," he added. "And if we're going to keep living the way we are… doing what we're doing, we have to decide how we deal with this. Whether we hide. Whether we—"
"We?" I cut in.
Something hot and childish flared in my chest.
"We?" I repeated. "Kazuo, you know you're not one of us."
He flinched.
"Sure, you're kind to us. You give us space. You gave me a job. But none of this really concerns you." My voice trembled, yet I pushed on. "Tomorrow you could change your mind, walk away, close the bar, do whatever you want, and it wouldn't change your life at all. Why do you even care about our kind? Us? You are not one of us! But me… I was born this way. So what exactly am I supposed to do with that?"
The look on his face made it obvious I'd hurt him.
Damn.
"Kazuo, I didn't mean—"
"These are difficult times," he cut me off and stood. "I don't want us to say something we can't take back." He sighed. "Now that you know, you need to think about whether you want to keep coming back here."
My stomach dropped.
"I'm not changing course," he continued. "No matter how bad it gets. No matter what those people intend to do." He stepped closer and rested a hand on my shoulder. "You need to decide what's better for you. I'll understand if you stop coming."
Then he turned and walked back into the bar, leaving me alone with the hum of the fridge and the weight of everything he'd just said.
I barely remembered the rest of the evening. The last clear thing I recalled was stepping outside, drawing in the cold, damp air. The rain was slowly soaking my hood. I hardly reacted, staring straight ahead, knowing I had to go home.
Everything that had happened that day pressed down on me at once, like it wanted to crush me flat.
Strangely enough, the cold autumn air, the dampness, the rain clinging to my skin, all made it slightly easier. It distracted me. Gave me something physical to focus on instead of what was tearing me apart inside.
Then I heard his voice.
"Evening, bartender. You look… off tonight."
I lifted my head and saw Ed standing there under an umbrella, immaculate as always.
For the last few days, he kept showing up and driving me home as if it were normal.
Was he taking care of me now?
Babysitting me?
I stayed silent. When I didn't answer, he took a step closer.
"Come on," he said gently. "I'll give you a ride. It's raining, and you're clearly exhausted."
I exhaled, nodded, and followed him to the car. I slid into the passenger seat. It had started to feel routine. He got in behind the wheel.
Today, he'd come without the driver again. I should've been happy that we had a few minutes alone. Instead, a heavy lump rose in my throat, and I swallowed hard, trying to force it down. My eyes burned, close to tears.
Lately, I'd been standing on that edge all the time. I hadn't cried in years. I'd taught myself not to. But now my nerves had been stretched so tight that the smallest push could break something loose.
And I refused to let that happen. Especially in front of him.
So I held myself back, fighting that damn lump in my throat and trying not to look at him.
Suddenly, his voice pulled me out of my thoughts. "Seatbelt."
"Oh—sorry," I muttered, fumbling with trembling hands until it clicked into place.
That was when I noticed my hands were still shaking like crazy. I shoved them into my pockets and pressed against my sides, turning toward the window, doing everything I could to hide how badly I was falling apart.
Why did he keep coming?
Had he seen those videos?
Did he think I might be next?
But why would he? I had never told him who I really was. To him, I was some strange guy behind a mask, lurking behind a bar for reasons he didn't know.
I glanced at him just as the car slowed.
We had arrived.
As always, the ride was too short.
This time, I didn't rush to get out of the car, didn't reach for the door handle, did nothing at all. I only looked at him.
He looked back at me in return, saying nothing.
Why wasn't he asking anything?
If he'd asked me something tonight, anything, I'd have answered. I'd have told him everything. I'd have spilled it all onto him, all the pain piling up in my chest, all the fear, the exhaustion, the weight of these past days.
But he stayed silent, watching me with that calm gaze.
And then I noticed it.
The edge of his shirt collar had folded slightly. It looked strange. How could something so perfect have even the smallest flaw?
Without thinking, my body moved on its own. I reached out to fix it, and for a moment, my fingers brushed his neck.
He flinched.
That was when I realized what had happened. I froze, staring at him with wide eyes, my hand still hanging in the air.
What the hell had I done?
He probably thought I'd lost my mind. That I'd crossed a line. That I…
But he was just smiling.
"See you tomorrow, bartender," he said quietly.
I jerked my hand back. My face burned so badly I was sure I'd turned a humiliating shade of red. It felt as if the air around me might catch fire at any second.
Pressing my hand to my chest, I nodded, muttered something that vaguely resembled "you too," and fled the car. I rushed toward my building without looking back.
One unconscious movement. One brief touch, and suddenly everything became irrelevant.
And for the first time in days, my head went blank.