The heavy wooden doors creaked open.

  The dimly lit room, filled with the highest-ranking Musabori elites, fell into an unnatural silence as a single figure entered. Kuroda had arrived.

  Every man at the table lowered their heads in unison, their posture shifting from casual to rigid obedience. Even Mori, despite his usual air of confidence, gave a slight bow.

  No one spoke.

  No one even breathed too loudly.

  Kuroda’s steps were slow, deliberate—his presence carrying the weight of something beyond power, beyond authority. His crimson-lined coat trailed behind him as he stopped at the head of the table, hands csped neatly behind his back. Then, with a single flick of his fingers, he dismissed the gesture.

  “Raise your heads.”

  They obeyed immediately.

  Kuroda’s voice was quiet. Too quiet. Yet it carried through the air like the whisper of a bde just before it sinks into flesh.

  “What’s the situation?”

  Mori leaned forward, his fingers ced together.

  “Shigure is gone.”

  Silence.

  “We received word from a scout,” Mori continued. “The battle was intense, but the body was never found. We’re still investigating.”

  Kuroda didn’t react immediately. Instead, he tapped his fingers against the polished wood of the table.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Then—

  “Sounds like he’s dead.”

  The words were said so simply, so hollow, that they sent a chill through the room.

  Then, for the first time, Kuroda’s expression shifted—just slightly. His lips pressed together, and something flickered in his eyes. Frustration.

  “How lucky of a man,” he murmured.

  His voice was still measured, but there was an edge beneath it—one sharp enough to cut through steel.

  “How lucky Shigure was.”

  He exhaled through his nose, his fingers curling against the table.

  “I wish I could be as lucky as him.”

  A subtle tension rippled through the room. The elites exchanged gnces. A few of them frowned, puzzled. They knew better than to question him, but confusion lingered in their eyes.

  Kuroda caught their expressions immediately. He turned his gaze upon them—sharp, piercing, dissecting. Then, he answered the silent question.

  “What is heaven if not the pce where all are meant to go?”

  The room went still.

  Kuroda’s voice remained eerily calm, but there was a weight to his words—an undeniable conviction.

  “Shigure simply received early entry,” he said smoothly. “A privilege.”

  His gaze drifted downward, as if pondering the thought himself. Then, in a softer tone—almost wistful—he added:

  “He got to see it faster than the rest of us.”

  The silence stretched.

  No one spoke.

  Not Mori, not Yasuke, not even the reckless ones like Jin. They didn’t dare.

  Then, Kuroda’s focus shifted.

  His fingers stopped tapping.

  His posture straightened.

  “I’ve heard the Heishi test is happening earlier than expected.”

  Yasuke stepped forward slightly, nodding.

  “Yes. The Setai boy has moved up quickly. Suspiciously so.” His smirk twitched at the corner of his lips. “Shows… potential, so I’ve been handling the investigation myself.”

  Kuroda’s gaze didn’t waver.

  “Does it look like I can use a core on him?”

  A slight pause.

  Yasuke ran a hand along his jawline, feigning thoughtfulness.

  “I’ll find out your answer during the test.”

  Kuroda’s expression remained unreadable. Then—without another word—he turned on his heel and exited the room.

  The second the door clicked shut, the Musabori elites exhaled.

  Except for Mori, whose stern gaze followed Kuroda as he left the room.

  ?HARD CUT.

  The screen fades from Kuroda’s cold, ominous departure to—

  Two absolute morons filing around their room.

  ?Watari and Kaito stood in the middle of their quarters, engaged in the most ridiculous battle known to man—Charades.

  Kaito filed his arms wildly. “Okay, okay, you’re NEVER guessing this one.”

  Watari, arms crossed, deadpanned. “Bro, I already regret pying.”

  Kaito wiggled his fingers in the air, his face twisting dramatically.

  “It’s a person. A monster.”

  Watari squinted. “…A zombie?”

  “No!”

  Watari scratched his chin. “Uh… ghost? Ghoul? Some kind of—?”

  Kaito threw his hands up. “I’M YUMI, IDIOT!”

  Watari choked. “What?!”

  Kaito pointed at his expressionless face.

  “Look! I was doing the whole angry ‘cause I’m tsundere’ thing!” He made an adorable baby face. “‘Leave me alone, Watari! I totally like—I mean, don’t like you!’”

  He crossed his arms, dramatically puffing his cheeks.

  “I even did the angry gremlin thing she does!”

  Watari buried his face in his hands.

  “…She is so much cuter than that, brother.”

  He let out a sigh.

  “Why am I friends with you again?”

  Kaito smirked. “Because I make this hellhole fun.”

  A beat of silence.

  Then, Kaito casually leaned against the wall, arms folded. His smirk softened just slightly.

  “Well… looks like it’s finally time for your Heishi test.”

  He gave a slow nod, lips twitching upward.

  “How are you feeling, my proud Yoriki?”

  Watari’s grin faltered.

  For the first time, his expression turned somber.

  “Yeah…” He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think I’m ready for it.”

  A long pause.

  Then, a familiar glint returned to his eyes—a half-smirk forming.

  “From what I’m learning in the Musabori…” His fingers flexed. “You gotta be ready for anything.”

  The screen fades to bck.