Chapter 45:

Chapter 45 : The Beginning of the End

Shadows of the fallen

The wind howled through the mountains, carrying with it the icy chill of treachery. Snow fell silently, gently blanketing the earth in white, as if trying to cover the blood that had been spilled, the trust that had been shattered. The river below churned violently, its black surface reflecting no light, no hope—only the consuming void left in the wake of loss.

Yuka stood at the cliff’s edge, the handgun slipping from her frozen fingers and landing with a hollow clatter on the rocks. Her eyes remained locked on the dark waters below—the very place Mikuya had fallen. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, and her body trembled not from the cold, but from the storm tearing her apart inside.

She’s gone.

Her knees gave way, and she collapsed onto the snow-covered ground. The cold seeped through her clothes, but she welcomed it. Maybe it would numb her. Maybe it would erase the image of Mikuya’s eyes—the disbelief, the pain, the betrayal—all etched in a single word: "Why?"

Yuka clutched her chest, as if trying to hold herself together. The tears fell freely, mixing with the snow. She had believed she could do it. That she had the strength to sever her past. That this act, this final betrayal, was necessary. But no one had told her how much it would hurt. No one had warned her that killing your best friend would feel like dying with them.

The river roared, indifferent to her anguish. Mikuya—the one who laughed with her, fought beside her, believed in her—was gone. And yet, even as she stared into the darkness below, something inside Yuka whispered: she isn’t dead.

Because Mikuya wasn’t someone who simply disappeared.

She was a storm.

And storms always return.

---

Far away from the mountain, back at the Shadow Syndicate agency, Kaito ran through the hallway, his footsteps echoing like frantic drumbeats. His heart pounded in his chest, a deep unease gripping him.

He had to reach Mikuya.

But he was too late.

The Silent Shadow had fallen.

He didn’t know how he knew. He just did. Something had gone wrong—terribly wrong. He rounded the corner when suddenly—

“Kaito!”

Renzo stood in his path, arms crossed. “Where are you rushing off to?”

“I—” Kaito hesitated. “I have something important to do.”

Renzo raised a brow, suspicious. “Daigo called us. It’s urgent. You’re coming with me.”

Before Kaito could protest, Renzo grabbed his arm and pulled him down the corridor. The air grew colder. Kaito’s dread deepened.

They reached Daigo’s office. Outside the door stood Lady Hisoka, Takahiro, and Hiroki, all silent, snowflakes resting on their shoulders. The night had bled into early dawn, the sky a pale gray. Still snowing.

Inside, Daigo was speaking to a low-ranking soldier. The conversation was hushed, and the soldier left swiftly after. Then came the knock.

“Enter,” Daigo’s voice said.

The room was dim, lit only by the cold blue glow of the overhead lights. Daigo stood behind his desk, arms folded, his expression unreadable.

“You called for us?” Lady Hisoka asked, stepping forward.

Daigo nodded slowly. “I have news.”

The tension in the room thickened.

“Mikuya Mizuki is dead.”

The words hung in the air like a guillotine.

“What!?” Renzo’s voice cracked.

“How?!” Takahiro asked, stepping forward. “She couldn’t have been taken down so easily!”

“Who killed her?” Hiroki demanded, fists clenched.

Even Lady Hisoka faltered, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Kaito didn’t speak. He didn’t move. But inside, everything was crumbling.

No. It can’t be.

She has to be alive.

She has to...

Daigo’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You’ll meet the one responsible soon.”

---

Meanwhile, far from the agency, Yuka descended the mountain path with measured steps. Her expression was unreadable. Her face held no tears, no cracks. Her eyes—once filled with warmth—were now distant, cold.

She left behind the cliff, the storm, the scream.

She left behind her past.

And she didn’t look back.

---

Morning had arrived, but the agency remained cold with silence. The snow hadn’t stopped. The room waited, tense and uncertain.

“Where is this person?!” Renzo snapped, slamming his fist onto the table.

Daigo’s eyes turned to the door. “She’s here.”

The door opened slowly.

A figure stepped inside.

A girl.

Young. Small. Eyes dull and expression blank. Wearing a winter coat, snow clinging to her boots.

Yuka Fujiguro.