The city doesn't sleep.
It just pretends, the way you pretend to be asleep when you hear someone walking around the house at 3 a.m.
Ryo stands on the upper deck railing, palms against cold metal, watching District Seven breathe too quietly. The streetlights below look like they're afraid to blink. Reflections in the glass towers lag half a heartbeat, like the city's buffering reality.
Mara finds him without making a sound.
"You're doing the thing with your face again," she says.
"Which thing?"
"The one that says the world's about to end and you're trying to decide if you're the cause or the cure."
He huffs something that isn't quite a laugh. "Little of both."
She leans beside him, shoulder almost touching his. "You feel it too."
"The listening," he says. "Yeah."
Below, traffic lights change in perfect unison. No cars honk. A drone drifts past, forgets to record, drifts on.
"It's waiting for me to finish a sentence," Ryo says.
Mara is quiet long enough that he looks over. Her eyes are fixed on the skyline like she's daring it to move wrong.
"Then don't finish it," she says.
He wishes it were that easy.
—
They take the lift down to the restricted levels—the ones even most officers pretend don't exist. The air gets colder, cleaner, recycled so hard it tastes like metal fillings.
The other resonant is waiting at the threshold, pale as printer paper, eyes too big for comfort.
"It's down here," they whisper. "Your shadow."
Ryo's hollow gives one hard thump, like a second heart remembering it's still on the clock.
Mara's hand brushes her holster. "Why always tunnels? Can't anything try to murder us in a well-lit café for once?"
Sato snorts behind her. "If Ryo's evil twin ever shows up at a Starbucks, I'm retiring."
Ryo doesn't answer.
Because it isn't evil.
It's just… unfinished.
And that's worse.
—
The tunnel is narrow, sharp, built for cables, not people. Every footstep echoes like the walls are taking notes.
Ryo walks first.
The hollow vibrates—not pain, recognition.
Like meeting a stranger who already knows your childhood nickname.
Mara's voice, low: "Talk."
"It's close," he says. "Really close."
They round a bend.
And there it is.
Standing under a single dying bulb.
Him.
But not.
The hair is darker.
The shoulders squared.
The eyes calm in a way Ryo has never managed.
It tilts its head exactly when he does.
Mara's gun is out before her brain finishes the order.
Sato's baton hums awake.
The other resonant goes dead still.
Ryo steps forward.
The shadow steps forward.
Perfect mirror.
Until it isn't.
It stops copying.
It starts thinking.
Its mouth opens.
The voice is his, but reversed, glitched, like a tape played backward through broken speakers.
"…yoR…"
Mara's knuckles go white. "Okay, I'm shooting it."
"No," Ryo says, soft.
He takes another step.
The shadow takes another.
But this time it's leading.
It raises a hand.
The wall behind it splits open—not with force, with permission. A seam of red static yawns wide.
Not an attack.
A hallway.
The shadow steps backward into it, still facing him.
Still watching.
Still learning.
Then it's gone.
The seam seals.
The tunnel is empty again.
But the message lingers, written in the air like breath on glass:
YOU LEFT A DOOR OPEN
Ryo feels the words settle in his bones.
Mara grabs his sleeve. "We are not following your creepy twin into Narnia."
"It's not luring," he says, voice small.
"It's inviting."
The resonant looks like they're about to be sick.
"That means it thinks it's ready."
"Ready for what?" Sato asks.
The answer is so obvious it hurts.
"For me," Ryo says.
—
They stand in the sudden quiet.
Mara's hand is still on his sleeve, tight enough to bruise.
Sato is staring at the spot where the shadow vanished like he's trying to burn a hole through reality with pure disbelief.
The resonant whispers, "If it's inviting you, it believes the merge is safe."
"Safe for who?" Mara asks.
"For it," Ryo says.
He feels the missing piece inside him—the potential the shadow took—like a tooth you keep tonguing even though it's gone.
Mara turns him to face her.
"Listen to me," she says, fierce. "You are not walking into whatever that thing is planning alone. You hear me?"
He wants to promise.
He can't.
Because the tug is already there.
Gentle.
Curious.
Patient.
Like a kid pulling your sleeve again.
Come see.
He looks at her.
"I think," he says, "it wants to give something back."
"Or take the rest," Sato mutters.
Ryo meets Mara's eyes.
"I have to know which."
She holds his gaze for a long second.
Then lets go.
"Fine," she says. "But if you disappear into creepy mirror world, I'm coming after you. And I will be pissed."
Sato cracks his knuckles. "I'll bring snacks."
The resonant looks like they want to argue.
Then they just sigh.
"Try not to let it finish the sentence," they say.
Ryo nods.
He steps toward the place the seam was.
The air is still warm.
The door is still open.
He walks through.
And the city holds its breath one more time.