Axel

The dim light of the club blurred into spots, the music pressed on the temples, and reality lost its outlines - too bright, too much, as always on the edge.

You didn't notice how you crashed into him.

A strong hand kept him from falling. A cold, attentive gaze—too sober for this place. He didn't look like he belonged here, but everything around him seemed to be adjusting to him.

Axel. A friend of your father, a man connected to Tokyo's shadowy underworld.

You chuckled, not backing down. Everything else came in fragments: the cramped space, the too-close presence, the scent of expensive cologne, the feeling of losing control.

Then - a sharp drop.

Alcohol, pills, relapse. Old habits that once broke you. Seven years of remission—and then it all falls apart again.

“Too much,” Axel said shortly.

Darkness.

You woke up in a strange, overly expensive room. Silence. Bodyguards at the door. Heaviness in your body.

And his voice is nearby:

• Are you awake yet, darling?