July 29th, 2026
At Foxxy's house - 6:03 AM
The sunlight filtered gently through the tinted glass panels as Ian stirred awake. For a moment, he lay still, eyes fluttering against the morning light, caught in that fragile veil between dream and reality. His mind replayed flashes from last night—Daigo's malicious grin, the voice like an angel, the imposing bodyguards, and then Foxxy. That name echoed in his head like a melody from a song he couldn't place.
"Was it all just a dream?" he whispered to himself.
But as he sat up and his eyes fully took in his surroundings, hope crumbled into cold realization.
The room was not a figment of his imagination. It was real.
Everything in it screamed wealth and modernity. A sleek flat-screen TV adorned one wall, glowing faintly in standby mode. A high-end gaming PC sat on a wide glass desk near the window.
The air was cooled perfectly by a powerful ceiling unit humming softly. A mini fridge gleamed in the corner, and his shoes were neatly lined beside the king-sized bed. Everything was too pristine, too deliberate.
He rubbed his eyes and pulled out his phone: 6:03 AM. He had barely gotten 7 hours of sleep. His back ached, not from the bed, but from the weight of everything pressing on his mind. He had to get to work by eight. Ian stumbled toward the bathroom, but before he could reach the door, it creaked open.
A tall bodyguard stepped inside without any preamble. "I presume you have work," he said flatly, his tone not hostile, but firm.
Ian blinked and gave a silent nod.
The bodyguard looked him over and added, "At 8 PM tonight, Ms. Foxxy would like a conversation with you. Do not be late."
Before Ian could speak, the bodyguard turned and exited, the door shutting quietly behind him.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur. Ian did everything on autopilot—shower, dress, commute. He didn't even recall how he made it through work, cooking, washing the dishes, enduring the shallow gossip and complaints from coworkers. His head pounded with questions and unresolved thoughts.
By the time his shift ended, he wasn't sure if he was more exhausted or emotionally numb. At 7 PM, he returned to the luxurious house Foxxy had offered. The opulence didn't faze him anymore. What haunted him was the mystery of her intentions.
Back at Foxxy's house - 7PM
With a sigh, he tossed his satchel onto the couch and sat heavily beside it. The silence made the ticking of the wall clock sound deafening. Looking to distract himself, he grabbed the TV remote and flicked through the hundreds of channels available.
Game shows, cooking contests, samurai dramas—he scrolled aimlessly.
Then he stopped.
A news report caught his eye. On the screen, a serious-faced anchor was speaking in rapid Japanese, the images behind her showing police tape around a familiar building. Ian leaned forward slowly.
"Breaking News," the anchor said. "A gruesome murder occurred last night at approximately 3 AM in a residential apartment complex in central Tokyo. The victim, identified as Kosuke Tanaka, the landlord of the building, was found dead in the hallway of the third floor."
Ian's jaw slowly dropped. That was his old building.
The anchor continued. "Authorities say Mr. Kosuke was stabbed ten times with a sharp object, resulting in his immediate death. He was found by another tenant who heard a commotion."
The screen shifted to a reporter on the scene, holding a mic with the building in the background. "As you can see, the scene is still cordoned off. Police have begun their investigation, and according to an exclusive interview with Detective Sakamoto of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police, they already have a lead."
A pre-recorded clip of Detective Sakamoto appeared.
"Yes, we have a witness. Another tenant saw the attack from his door," the detective said. "He described the suspect as a young man, tall, with an unkempt, foreign appearance."
Ian's blood ran cold.
Unkempt. Tall. Foreign.
The description fit him exactly.
His limbs froze, and the remote slipped from his fingers, clattering softly onto the polished floor. His thoughts spiraled into chaos. His landlord - murdered. At the same time he was with Foxxy. But no one would believe that, would they?
He had no alibi that could be independently verified. Only the word of a famous idol and her legion of intimidating bodyguards. And how would that even sound to the police?
He got up and paced the room, running a hand through his hair. "No. No, no, no," he whispered repeatedly. He hadn't even been near the building since getting kicked out. But now...
Suddenly, every shadow in the room seemed to grow darker. Every noise from outside felt threatening. A part of him wanted to call the police and explain. But would they even listen? Or worse... would they frame him anyway?
At 7:48 PM, Ian sat back down, staring blankly at the screen. His hands trembled. His breath was shallow. Foxxy wanted to speak at 8. Maybe she knew something. Maybe she could help. Or maybe... she was another thread in this growing web.
Whatever the case, he was no longer safe. And whoever killed Kosuke, they were dragging Ian down with them.
Outside, the sun had dipped beyond the horizon. The room darkened, bathed in hues of deep violet and blue. The doorbell rang and...
...he received a text from an unknown number.
Ian read the message...
"You forced my hand, baby. Now, we will play the hard way, so you will learn. <3"
Shit....