A man stood in front of the apartment wearing a worn khaki jacket, his hair slightly disheveled. A scruffy beard covered his chin, and his expression carried a quiet weight of loss and lethargy.
"Hoo—"
He tilted his head slightly as he looked up at the old residence on the second floor and exhaled cigarette smoke. The camera, which had been filming his back, slowly shifted to the side, revealing more of his figure. He was Detective Yoshizawa Mochio, and today he appeared to be alone, without his subordinate. With the cigarette still resting between his lips, he muttered in a low voice.
"So, he lives here. Looks ordinary."
Mochio had already wrapped up the recent string of death cases. More precisely, the police had officially announced the closure of the case to the public, releasing all known details.
"..."
Both perpetrators and victims were dead. Beginning with Misaki Shutoku, who had killed Konakayama Kinjo, everyone involved had ended up killing one another like a tangled thread collapsing into itself. The case of Misaki Toka had also been uncovered, but it was not made public. It was too old, and the other serial killings were far more sensational.
Was anything left behind?
Yes. The circumstances and the remaining evidence were unmistakably clear. There was no room for further suspicion, and the public had already been driven into fear. Under those conditions, it was only natural for the police to declare the case closed as quickly as possible.
However—
──────────
There was still one person who had not closed the case.
Detective Mochio, who had just taken out a new cigarette and placed it between his lips, carried two lingering thoughts in his mind. One was the possibility of an accomplice, and the other was a single name—'Iiyota Kiyoshi.'
With both hands tucked into his jacket pockets, Mochio began to walk. The metallic sound of his steps echoed as he climbed the stairs one at a time, unhurried and steady, until he reached the end of the second-floor corridor. The last unit at the far end was the place he had come to find.
The camera pulled back, capturing him from the front as he walked down the narrow corridor.
When he finally arrived, Mochio raised his hand, about to knock.
At that very moment, the iron door swung open without warning and slammed into his head with a sharp clang.
"Ugh!"
He staggered, clutching his head as a low groan slipped out. The man who stepped out flinched for an instant, but instead of apologizing, his face twisted into irritation.
"What the hell is this? Who are you?"
He frowned deeply and glared at Mochio, who was slightly hunched over, both hands pressed against his head. After casting a suspicious glance around the corridor, he clicked his tongue.
"You scared me. What are you doing here?"
Mochio exhaled quietly through his teeth as he steadied himself, then reached into his pocket and pulled something out.
It was a detective badge.
"I'm a detective. The door opened suddenly, so I couldn't avoid it."
The man blinked once, then frowned again.
"...A detective? Why is a detective in front of my house? Ah—this counts as self-defense, right? No, wait… that's not it."
"What?"
"I mean, it's not my fault that I hit a detective, right?"
"I'm not blaming you."
"Of course not!"
There was a light, almost careless tone in his voice. Mochio studied him for a brief moment, then slipped the badge back into his pocket.
"...Are you Iiyota Kiyoshi?"
"Huh? What? How do you know my name? Did you come looking for me?"
"Yes."
The man's eyes widened slightly before he scratched his chin, confusion settling across his face.
"Me? Why?"
For a fleeting instant, Kiyoshi's body tensed.
Mochio tilted his head slightly, his tone unchanged.
"Do you remember Misaki Toka?"
Kiyoshi folded his arms and glanced upward as though searching his memory. After a short pause, he gave a light shrug.
"Who? I've never heard that name."
A quiet stillness followed, stretching for several seconds.
Then—
"Cut! Cut! Good!"
The voice broke through the tension.
In an instant, the atmosphere shifted. Kiyoshi—no, Kang Woojin—and Kosaku Mana stepped away from the scene, and several staff members approached to adjust their makeup. Director Kyotaro joined them soon after.
"Up to this point, we'll follow the existing script. After this, proceed freely as we discussed. From here on, we'll alternate between scripted scenes and free acting."
It meant the filming would no longer proceed in a single continuous take but would instead move between structure and improvisation.
"Yes, Director."
"Understood."
The replies were brief.
The scene just completed had already been the third take, and from this point onward, as discussed with writer Akari, the actors would move beyond the script and act freely, while still maintaining the direction, situation, emotional flow, and conflict.
With nearly two hundred people watching, the atmosphere on set began to shift.
"It's finally starting."
"Are they really going to improvise?"
"That's what I heard."
More than a hundred staff members, along with executives from the production and distribution companies, were gathered around.
"I've never seen anything like this. Will it be okay?"
"I'm not sure. In Hollywood, actors sometimes take the lead like this, but in Japan it's rare."
"The current method wasn't bad. Isn't this too risky?"
"We've come this far. All we can do is watch."
Behind the director, Akari sat quietly, her glasses resting low on her nose, her gaze fixed on the set.
"..."
The scene she had just witnessed was already familiar to her, and she was satisfied with it.
But from this point onward, everything would move into unknown territory.
──────────
"Writer."
A rough, aged voice called out from beside her.
Chairman Hideki, seated nearby with his jacket removed and his secretaries standing behind him, spoke calmly.
"Didn't Kiyoshi's acting just now feel a bit exaggerated? He wasn't originally like that."
"Yes. In the original, Kiyoshi already knew Mochio would come, so he acted accordingly."
"To hide his true self?"
"Yes. He's trying to create confusion. Kiyoshi knows Mochio is sharp."
Hideki kept his gaze forward.
"So from here, it changes? I heard they won't follow the script."
A brief pause followed.
"...That's what I came to see as well."
His eyes gleamed faintly.
"This is rare. But it won't be easy. The tension is rising."
──────────
After the explanation ended, Director Kyotaro stepped away from the set, and the staff who had finished the makeup adjustments withdrew as well. Kang Woojin and Kosaku Mana exchanged a few quiet words, but it did not seem like they were forming a fixed plan. It felt closer to sharing an understanding of emotional flow rather than outlining specific actions.
That was, in fact, the intention.
Kosaku had been the one to suggest it first.
"Let's keep only the core dialogue and leave everything else unsaid, then act freely."
It was not about planning. It was about becoming the characters themselves and letting the performance unfold naturally according to emotion and circumstance.
"Understood."
"I'll follow the flow."
Woojin's answer was simple, but sincere.
Several dozen minutes later, preparations for the next take were nearly complete. The staff surrounded the set in silence, and the executives watched with serious expressions. In Akari's eyes, anticipation and concern were mixed, while Hideki beside her remained unreadable.
Director Kyotaro sat in front of the monitors, letting out a short breath before signaling to a staff member. The slate clapped sharply, echoing across the set.
Before the word action could even be spoken, Kang Woojin had already stepped into the scene.
'First—'
In an instant, he completely absorbed Iiyota Kiyoshi. The world before him shifted, everything aligning into The Stranger's Grim Sacrifice, and his entire perception became that of Kiyoshi. Yet he did not stop there.
Something had changed.
He now possessed a new ability—freedom of role. The rigid frame that once contained him had broken, opening countless possibilities. He could maintain Kiyoshi's essence while introducing something unexpected.
'Character synthesis is necessary.'
This scene required Kiyoshi to observe Mochio and respond accordingly. Woojin intended to preserve Kiyoshi's core completely while layering something else over it.
He had already chosen what that would be.
Another presence settled within him, blending seamlessly.
'This is only the beginning.'
And with that, he opened the freedom of role.
──────────
The signal to begin came, and Mochio moved once more, climbing the metal stairs as the familiar sound echoed beneath his steps. When he reached the end of the corridor, he stopped in front of the door.
But this time, nothing happened.
The door did not open.
Mochio simply reached out and knocked, waiting for a response, but none came. He knocked again, then a third time, and when the silence persisted, a faint smile touched his lips.
"Feels like I need a password."
It was a natural ad-lib, spoken lightly, as though testing the situation.
Then, without warning, the door burst open and struck his head again.
"Ugh—!"
He staggered back, and from beyond the doorway, Kiyoshi appeared.
He did not speak.
He simply watched.
There was no expression on his face, no immediate reaction, only a quiet stillness that felt slightly out of place.
Mochio straightened slowly, pulling out his badge.
"I'm fine. The door opened too suddenly. I'm a detective. You're Iiyota Kiyoshi, right?"
There was no answer.
Only a blink.
Mochio studied him more closely.
"You are Iiyota Kiyoshi, correct?"
Their eyes met, and in that brief moment, something felt off.
'Why isn't he reacting?'
Mochio pressed further.
"You knew I was coming, didn't you?"
Still, there was no response.
The silence deepened, stretching just long enough to create discomfort.
Then, slowly, Kiyoshi moved.
He placed one hand against his chest in a polite gesture, as if acknowledging the other's presence, and parted his lips.
A faint, strained sound escaped him.
"Ah… ah—"
It was unclear, almost like a broken attempt at speech, and the confusion it created was immediate.
Mochio frowned.
"What? Are you mocking me?"
But the sound continued, uneven and awkward, as though speech itself was difficult.
Then, instead of speaking, Kiyoshi raised his hands.
They moved carefully, deliberately, forming shapes in the air with quiet precision.
["I'm sorry, detective. I can't hear well."]
["You probably don't understand this either, do you?"]
The meaning became clear.
He was using sign language.
The shift in the scene was immediate, the tension changing direction in a way no one had anticipated.
Mochio froze where he stood, the words caught in his throat as the realization settled in.
"Ah…"
For the first time, he was visibly shaken.