Roppongi Hills. The needle of Tokyo.
The Bentley slid into the private underground garage, passing security checkpoints that scanned the license plate with a red laser flicker. The steel gates rattled shut behind them, sealing out the rain and the noise of the city.
Silence returned. Heavy and expensive.
Renji stepped out of the car. His legs felt like lead pipes filled with ice water. The "Yin Poisoning" was settling into his joints, making every movement an agony he had to hide.
"Elevator is this way," Elena said. She didn't look at him. She was walking fast, her heels clicking a sharp, nervous rhythm on the polished concrete. Click-clack. Click-clack.
She was regretting this. Renji could see it in the stiffness of her shoulders. She was realizing she had just invited a wet, homeless man into one of the most secure buildings in Japan.
Keep the pressure on, Renji told himself. If she thinks, you lose.
They stepped into the private elevator. There were no buttons. Elena pressed her thumb against a glowing glass panel.
Beep.
[Access Granted: Penthouse.]
The doors hissed shut.
The air inside the elevator was suffocating. It wasn't just small; it was the proximity. Being this close to Elena without touching her was like standing next to a leaking nuclear reactor. The cold radiating from her spirit was invisible, but it made the hair on Renji's arms stand up.
[WARNING: Host Body Temperature: 35.2°C][System Recommendation: Seek heat source immediately.]
Renji leaned against the mirrored wall, trying to look casual, trying not to let his teeth chatter.
"You have security cameras," Renji said, breaking the silence.
"Obviously," Elena replied, watching the floor numbers climb. "In every room except the bathrooms and the guest suite. My security team monitors them 24/7 from the lobby."
"Good," Renji said. "They can watch you sleep."
Elena stiffened. She turned to face him, her eyes narrowing.
"Is that a threat?"
"It's a diagnosis," Renji said, looking at his own reflection—pale, wet, pathetic. "You feel safer when you're watched. Because if someone is watching, you're not alone. That's why you leave the TV on, isn't it?"
Elena's mouth opened, then closed. She looked away.
Ding.
The doors opened.
If the car was a cage, the penthouse was a tomb.
It was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of Tokyo's bleeding neon lights, rain smearing the glass like oil paint. But inside?
White marble floors. White leather sofas. Glass tables. Abstract art that looked like angry slashes of black paint on white canvas.
There were no photos. No flowers. No clutter. No shoes by the door. No jacket on the rack.
It was a showroom for a life nobody lived.
"Take your shoes off," Elena said automatically. "I'll... I'll get you a towel. You're dripping on the marble."
Renji kicked off his soaked sneakers. He walked to the center of the vast, empty living room and stood there. The air conditioning was set to a sterile chill. It smelled of unscented cleaner and loneliness.
He shivered violently. He couldn't help it this time.
Elena came back from a hallway holding a thick white towel. She stopped five feet away, holding it out like a weapon.
"Here."
Renji took it. He buried his face in the fabric, inhaling deeply. It smelled like lavender laundry detergent. He scrubbed his hair, trying to generate friction, trying to spark some heat in his freezing skull.
"Okay," Elena said. She walked to a sleek glass desk in the corner and opened a drawer. She pulled out a checkbook.
The sound of the pen scratching on paper was loud in the empty room.
Scritch-scratch.
"I don't know what the going rate for... 'Consultants'... is," she said, her voice regaining some of its CEO steel. "But I assume you need money. I'm writing you a check for five hundred thousand yen. That should cover a hotel, food, and clothes."
She ripped the check out.
"Take it. And leave."
She extended the slip of paper. Five hundred thousand. Five thousand dollars. More money than Renji had seen in two years.
It was freedom. It was safety.
It was a trap.
If he took the money, he was a service provider. A hireling. A temporary fix. And once he walked out that door, the cold would kill him before he reached the hotel.
Renji didn't take the check.
He looked at it. Then he looked at her.
"No."
Elena blinked. "Excuse me? It's not enough?"
"It's the wrong currency," Renji said.
He walked past her, ignoring the check, and sat on the white leather sofa. He sank into it. It was cold leather, but it was softer than a park bench.
"I told you in the car," Renji said, his voice dropping an octave. "I don't want a salary. A salary makes me an employee. Employees get fired when the boss has a mood swing."
"Then what do you want?" Elena's voice rose. She was losing control again. "You barged into my car, you analyzed my trauma, and now you're refusing payment? Who are you?"
Renji looked up. His eyes were dark, tired, but sharp as a razor.
"I'm the only person in Tokyo who knows why you're freezing to death."
He pointed at the check.
"Tear it up."
Elena hesitated. Her hand trembled.
"Tear it up," Renji commanded softly.
She ripped the check in half.
"Good," Renji said. "Now, here is the contract."
He held up three fingers.
"One. I stay here. In the guest suite. Until the nightmares are gone."
"Two. You feed me. Three meals a day. Real food, not that kale smoothie garbage you have in your fridge."
Elena flushed. "How do you know what's in my—"
"Three," Renji cut her off. "I need resources."
He pointed at her purse on the table.
"I need an expense account. Unlimited. No questions asked."
Elena laughed. It was a harsh, incredulous sound. "You want my credit card? You think I'm insane?"
"I think you're desperate," Renji corrected. "And I think you're smart. You know I'm not going to run away with your money. Where would I go? I have the solution to your problem right here."
He tapped his temple.
"The expense account isn't for me to buy toys, Elena. It's for operations. Fixing you isn't just about magic hands. It requires... materials. Herbs. Supplements. Specific items."
It was a lie. He needed the money to buy coffee for Arisa. He needed money to look presentable so he could enter high-end places. He needed money to function as a Warlord, not a beggar.
[System Insight: Target's logical defense is crumbling. Strike now.]
"If you pay me a wage," Renji said, looking her dead in the eye, "I am your servant. You can order me around, and you will never respect me. And if you don't respect me, the cure won't work."
He leaned forward.
"But if you give me a budget... I am your partner. I am the one holding the shield."
Elena stared at him. She looked at the torn check on the floor. She looked at the dark window where the rain lashed against the glass.
She remembered the feeling in the car. The brief, terrified hope that maybe, just maybe, someone understood.
She opened her purse.
She pulled out a sleek, matte-black card. Tsukimoto Corp - Executive.
She threw it on the glass table. It landed with a heavy clack.
"The PIN is 8808," she whispered. "If you buy a single thing that isn't related to my health, I will have you arrested for fraud. My lawyers are faster than the police."
Renji picked up the card. It felt heavy. It felt like power.
"Deal," he said.
He stood up. The room spun slightly, his vision graying at the edges. He was running on fumes.
"Where is the guest room?"
"Down the hall. Second door on the left." Elena wrapped her arms around herself, the chill returning to her eyes. "Renji?"
He paused.
"Yeah?"
"You said... the nightmares won't come if you're here."
She looked at him, terrified and small in her giant, empty house.
"Was that true?"
Renji looked at the S-Class Void standing in the middle of her white tomb.
"Go to sleep, Elena," he said. "I'm on the clock."
He turned and walked down the hall.
He opened the guest room door and closed it behind him.
The moment the latch clicked, Renji collapsed.
He slid down the doorframe, hitting the floor hard. His breath came in ragged gasps. He clutched the black card in one hand and his chest with the other.
[WARNING: Host Vitality Critical (5%)][System Entering Hibernation Mode.]
He lay on the carpet, shivering uncontrollably. He had the castle. He had the treasury. But he was dying.
He needed the battery.
He closed his eyes, the image of a neighbor he hadn't met yet flashing in his mind.
Just survive the night, he thought. Tomorrow, we hunt.