July 20th, 2026
Inside Foxxy's Ranger Rover - 7:56 PM
The white Range Rover glided smoothly through the bustling streets of Tokyo, its tinted windows shielding its precious cargo from the outside world. Inside, the atmosphere was thick and silent, a strange contrast to the thunderous cheering from the crowd that had gathered outside the hotel just moments ago.
Foxxy sat motionless in the back seat, her slender frame reclined against the plush leather interior. Her face, half-obscured by the elegant fox-shaped mask she always wore in public, was turned towards the window.
Her eyes weren't tracking the buildings or lights, they were far away. Lost. Frozen in that brief, piercing moment when her gaze locked with his.
One of the bodyguards, the stocky one with the perpetual smirk, finally broke the silence.
""Miss Foxxy," he said, his tone casual but loaded with curiosity.
"That guy back there... why'd you stare at him like that? Looked like some broke street rat. You know him or somethin'?" He asked.
Foxxy didn't answer. Her posture didn't shift. Her eyes remained glued to the horizon as if her silence could erase the encounter.
Another bodyguard chimed in, emboldened by the lack of rebuke. "He someone from your past? A fan? Or maybe... an ex?"
The question hovered dangerously in the air.
Without warning, Foxxy's composure snapped. She turned her masked face sharply toward them, her voice rising like a thunderclap inside the vehicle.
"Shut the fuck up, will you?"
Her voice was cold, venomous, laced with something deeper than anger. It was pain. Wounded pride. Secrets wrapped in thorns.
"My agency pays you to protect me, not interrogate me like some paparazzi scum," she growled, leaning forward slightly, her masked gaze fixed like a dagger into the eyes of the smirking guard.
He looked away, his face paling. The car fell silent again.
Foxxy leaned back once more, her voice dropping to a whisper barely audible.
"It's none of your business…"
And just like that, she was back to staring out the window, cold, unreadable, haunted.
July 21st, 2026
At the fast food restaurant - 8:25 AM
The next day had barely begun, and Ian was already exhausted. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. The events of the past few days were stitched into his muscles, heavy and aching. Every step toward the diner felt like dragging a burden he couldn't shake.
He pushed the door open, the tiny bell jingling, announcing his arrival. The lights inside flickered dimly, half the bulbs either dying or dead, just like his enthusiasm.
"The hell...?" Ian muttered, noticing the eerie silence.
No clatter from the kitchen. No chatter from the crew. No familiar noise that came with a usual lunch rush prep.
Only Kuwabara, the grim-faced manager, stood behind the counter, arms crossed, eyes locked on the small TV mounted in the corner.
"Where the hell is everybody?" Ian asked, taking off his jacket.
Kuwabara didn't look at him. "Don't ask. You're not getting paid to ask questions."
Ian scoffed under his breath. "Fine."
He made his way to the back, tying on his apron. His hands moved on autopilot, prepping the grill, checking the buns, flicking on the fryers. The rhythm was familiar, mechanical. The one thing keeping him tethered.
Then - ding -the door chimed.
Ian sighed. "Guess I'm the cashier too."
He stepped into the front. And froze.
The air became thick, unbreathable.
His heart started pounding like a war drum, just like it had in the Cathedral. That day, that humiliating escape... was suddenly resurrected in full force.
Standing just feet away, dressed in a pearl-white blazer and charcoal pants, was Leo.
Beside him, Ruth - elegant, flawless, unreadable. Her almond-shaped eyes scanned the diner with passive curiosity until they landed on him.
Ian felt it again. That searing, spine-chilling sensation that her gaze wasn't just looking - it was dissecting. Possessing.
And they weren't alone.
Another man, younger, more playful in demeanor, laughed as he slapped Leo's back.
"Damn, this is the place? For real, bro?" The man said, probably Leo's younger brother.
Leo chuckled. "Yeah. Ruth said it has the best junk food in the district."
The young man's girlfriend giggled, leaning on his shoulder.
"Figures. Ruth has a thing for greasy places..."
Ruth smiled, but only faintly. It wasn't warmth. It was something else- like someone indulging a game only she understood.
Ian's throat went dry. He wanted to run. He wanted to disappear. But his legs were rooted.
Ruth's eyes never left him.
She didn't say a word. Neither did he.
But in that silent stare, a thousand emotions bled.
Memories. Regret. Anger. Yearning.
And madness.
Leo turned to Ian, oblivious to the tension. "Yo, uh… we'll take four burgers, loaded. And two large fries."
Ian nodded stiffly, turning away. He felt Ruth's eyes on his back like burning coals.
Back in the kitchen, his hands trembled. The spatula clanged against the metal counter.
"This can't be real," he muttered to himself. "
"Why is she here? What the hell does she want from me?"
"Out of five McDizzles in Tokyo, she had to pick this joint." He kept on muttering to himself.
Out front, Ruth sat down with the others. Her fingers traced the rim of her cup as if lost in thought.
The young woman beside her smiled. "So, Ruth… you and Leo met at that business expo in Singapore, right? Must've been fate."
Ruth turned to her, smiling politely. "Yes. Fate."
But her eyes flickered to the kitchen.
And that smile? It didn't reach her eyes.
It never did.