Three days since Kamuro Plaza Hotel disappeared. The air in Special Division changed that day. Walking the hallway. Eyes come. Colleagues turn. Their faces say nothing. They look forward again. Only three came back from the hotel. The others couldn't enter. Couldn't enter—the Eternity Devil blocked them. That's all. But no one says it in the hallway. Just eyes. Only eyes. Denji isn't used to those eyes. Even in the previous memory, he never experienced this. Aki grabbed Denji's arm on the second-floor hallway of headquarters. Right after three other squad members passed. The moment the flow of people cut off. Grabbed—or just tugged his sleeve lightly. But the intent was clear. "[cold]One question" Aki walked to the edge of the hallway. Near the window. Light poured in from outside. His 182cm frame stood with the window at his back. Gray eyes watching Denji. Eyes that read nothing. But eyes that decided something. "[cold]At the hotel, you told me not to use the Curse Devil" Denji stopped. "A new recruit shouldn't know that" His voice low. Not shouting. Shouting would've been easier. The Curse Devil contract—each use shaves away lifespan. A new recruit who just joined Public Safety has no reason to know that mechanism. Denji shouldn't have known either. But he saw everything in the previous memory. What Aki paid. What Aki lost. He knows. But he can't tell Aki that now. "[serious]……Just a hunch. Somehow" He laughed. Light as possible. Aki stayed silent. One second. Two seconds. His eyes narrowed for just a moment. Eyes checking something. Then Aki walked ahead. Back turned to Denji. Said nothing. Stopped pursuing—no. Swallowed it. That difference. The weight of silence left in the hallway made it clear. Denji pressed his hand against the wall. Building trust. Growing doubt at the same time. That's the situation now. Helpless. ＊ Night. Back at Corpo Minase Room 103. A figure stood in front of the door. Power. Her red and gold two-tone bangs disheveled. One arm holding Nyako. The cat meowed irritably. Power's green vertical-slit pupils looked down at Denji. "[excited]It's natural for war comrades to stay at each other's place" Before Denji could answer, Power turned the doorknob. Locked. "[surprised]It needs a key" "[serious]Obviously" Denji pulled out his key. Opened the door. Power rushed in, still holding Nyako. The six-mat room got cramped instantly. Cardboard boxes stacked in the kitchen corner. A yellowed calendar. Pochita's fur still on the floor—Power ignored all of it. She yanked out the futon from the closet. "[excited]Here. I'll sleep here" She spread the futon in the middle of the room. Flopped down hard. Nyako jumped onto the edge. "[angry]That's my futon" "[sarcastic]You got a problem" He had problems. But no urge to kick her out. Denji sat against the wall. Knees up. Arms resting on them. Power scratched behind Nyako's ears. The cat's eyes narrowed. Power's expression quieter than usual. He knows that face. Trembling, hugging her knees in the hotel hallway. Crying, launching her greatest spear. Now she says nothing. Just petting the cat. The previous memory had no nights like this. Something small lit up deep in Denji's chest. Something like—peace. Loud. Selfish. But somehow, sitting next to her, his chest settles. The moment he noticed that feeling, Denji looked away. Out the window. No time for that now. Doesn't need to think about it. Power's eyes closed without him noticing. Nyako curled up too. Quiet breathing started. ＊ Deep night came. Denji opened his notebook. The page on his lap was white. His hand holding the pen stopped. Changed the Bat Devil incident. Twelve died in Itabashi. Changed the Eternity Devil incident. One died at the hotel. The Devil's regeneration speed increased. Every time he changes fate, the cost appears somewhere. He knows that now. The next big incident—Samurai Sword's attack. In the previous memory, multiple Special Division members died. The first time Denji killed a human. Something close to human. That memory still lives in his palm. As sensation. If he changes that, how many die somewhere else this time. If he doesn't, his comrades die. Either choice. Something is lost. Denji held the pen to the page. Couldn't write anything. The previous memory lets him read the next move. But that move births different deaths. Moving on his current judgment, the previous memory gets in the way. Which self should he move as. He decided at the hotel—move with what he can do right now. The previous memory isn't a perfect map. He decided that. But in front of the notebook, no answer comes. Pochita beat slowly in his chest. Warm. That's all that's certain. Denji kept thinking. Notebook still open. ＊ How much time passed. Something reflected in the window. An alley. Below the apartment. A narrow alley no cars enter. A figure stood there. Not a glimpse this time. A hooded person. Standing in the alley. Looking up—clearly looking up at him. Eyes met Denji's. That instant, Pochita pulsed violently. Not the warning beat from the previous night. Stronger. Many times stronger. In his chest, Pochita trying to tell him something. Danger—more than that. The same scent. Not the scent from the previous memory. Something more fundamental. A scent. Denji stood up reflexively. Opened the window. Night wind blew in. No one in the alley. No footsteps. No presence. Just night wind passing through. Street light reaches Corpo Minase's outer wall. The figure vanished. Not escaped—Denji knew by instinct. If escaped, presence remains. That one came to show itself. Confirmed his existence. Left. The Eternity Devil's final words overlapped. There's one more, it said. Denji gripped the window frame with both hands. Stared at the night alley. Makima isn't the only enemy. Someone else with the previous memory. Moving for different purposes—came here tonight. Denji closed the window. Turned around. Power and Nyako slept in the futon. Power's sleeping face quiet. Her usual loud voice. Her fangs. All gentle now. Nyako curled up. Breathing on Power's belly. Denji approached the futon. The edge slipping. He pulled it back over Power's shoulder. That's all. Nothing special. Notebook on his lap. Pen in hand. Fist clenched. Thought without voice. Come on. Whoever. Whatever purpose. Doesn't matter. Just won't let them touch these people. Aki. Power. Nyako—all of them. Protect them. Previous memory or not. That doesn't change. Samurai Sword's attack comes. Before that, another returner might move. Aki's doubt might explode before the next mission. Two crises approaching. At the same time. Pochita beat once. Quietly. Denji began writing on the white page for the first time.