1The businessman was gone, but the weight of his presence remained.
Yuzuki could still feel it, the invisible imprint he had left on the park—on her, on Reina, on all of them.
His words echoed in her mind.
"You’ll come around eventually."
Her fingers curled against her sides, her stomach twisting.
No, she wouldn’t.
She had made her choice.
She had said no.
But for how long?
How many more nights could she go hungry before she started to think differently?
How many more doors would close before she started to believe that maybe, just maybe, he had been right?
She hated that she was even thinking about it.
Nasru exhaled beside her.
"Weakened-hearted."
Yuzuki turned toward him, frowning slightly. "What?"
His gaze was still locked on the spot where the businessman had disappeared.
"That’s what they are," he said. "Those kinds of men. Weak-hearted."
"They allow lower dead end paradigms to consume their minds, only seeking fast thrills without considering the actual ramifications of the damages they leave on the people that are having a tough time as it is and how that then ripples out to psychologically and biologically over pollute and cause all the other problems collectively and at the civilizational scale."
"The overdosing, the shitty pathetic avoidable murders, theft, broken homes, everything occupying the time of the majority percentage that could be better spending their time across the continents if they had sufficient nudges, sufficient reminders."
"That's a lot... you don't usually talk much." Yuzuki told Naseru.
"I only talk when it's relevant." Naseru told Yuzuki.
Yuzuki didn’t reply.
Because she knew he wasn’t wrong.
2"You ever wonder how many of them there actually are?" Naseru continued, his voice casual, but his eyes sharp. "How many men start out normal and then turn into that?"
Yuzuki swallowed.
She had never thought about it like that.
She had always just assumed that men like that businessman were born that way—corrupt, disgusting, willing to prey on the desperate.
But Naseru was saying something different.
They weren’t always that way.
They had been turned into it.
"They don’t wake up one day and decide to become like that," Naseru muttered. "It happens over time. Little by little. A weakened heart that never gets checked, never gets reminded, never gets told no."
His voice was cold, detached. But Yuzuki could hear the anger underneath it.
It wasn’t just disgust.
It was something deeper.
"A crackhead unchecked is bad enough, but what's a crackhead unchecked with billions of a currency extracted out of the civilization in shady inexcusable ways?"
"And then they start spilling out," Naseru continued, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Ruining the quality of life of everyone around them. Worsening everything for rge percentages of the civilization. Making things worse for the majority. Making sure there’s no bance."
Yuzuki exhaled slowly.
"How do you stop it?" she asked.
Nasru finally looked at her.
His gaze was unreadable.
"You don’t let them go unchecked."
3The night was restless.
The city never fully went to sleep, not in this part of Tokyo.
And just as Yuzuki thought things might quiet down, more trouble arrived.
Two locals.
One tourist.
A camera.
Yuzuki saw them before they even spoke.
They weren’t hiding their intentions.
They scanned the park the same way the businessman had—eyes searching, assessing, hunting.
It didn’t take long before they found what they were looking for.
One of the younger girls.
Maybe fourteen, at most.
Yuzuki didn’t know her name. She had only seen her around a few times, always quiet, always clinging to the older girls for protection.
And she was desperate.
Hungry.
Shaking slightly from the cold.
The perfect target.
"Hey," one of the locals called out, his voice low, coaxing. "Wanna make some money tonight?"
The girl froze.
Her lips parted slightly, hesitation flickering across her face.
She was considering it.
Yuzuki knew that look.
She had been in that position.
She had felt that hesitation.
But before the girl could answer, before anything could happen—
Someone stepped in.
4"Nah," a voice cut in, firm, steady. "She’s good."
A man, standing nearby. Not one of the predators.
Someone local, someone older, someone who had probably seen this happen a hundred times before and finally decided to do something about it.
The locals with the camera paused.
One of them narrowed his eyes. "And who the hell are you?"
"Someone who has things covered."** His voice didn’t waver.**
A tense silence.
The men didn’t like being challenged.
For a brief moment, Yuzuki thought things might get ugly.
But then the tourist muttered something in Taiwan, impatient, annoyed.
And just like that, they turned away.
"Whatever," one of them grumbled, rolling his eyes. "We’ll go check somewhere else. Another park, another area."
And then they were gone.
Off to find someone else.
Someone who didn’t have anyone to step in.
Someone who wouldn’t get saved.
Yuzuki felt something in her chest tighten.
How many times had this already happened?
How many girls had already been taken tonight?
5Naseru sat on the edge of the bench, watching the whole thing unfold without a word.
Yuzuki finally turned to him. "Is that what you meant?"
Naseru looked at her. "What?"
"Unchecked."
She swallowed, her fingers tightening at her sides. "That’s what you meant, right? No one’s stopping them. No one’s checking them."
Nasru tilted his head slightly, as if considering it. Then he nodded once. "Yeah."
"So what do you do?" Yuzuki whispered. "How do you stop it?"
Nasru didn’t answer right away.
But when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet.
"You build something stronger."
Yuzuki frowned. "Stronger?"
Nasru leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose. "A real counterbance. Something that actually works. Tangible. infrastructures that haven't been seen yet. Something that makes sure these things don’t happen in the first pce."
Yuzuki stared at him.
"How?"
Nasru didn’t respond.
Not yet.
Because he didn’t have the full answer.
But he knew one thing.
What existed now?
It wasn’t enough.
To be continued...
