Father's face looked just a little older than usual. Yagami Souichiro stood in front of the entrance. His uniform buttons fastened perfectly, a notebook held in his left hand, his eyes meeting his son's directly. "[serious]Raito... I can't refuse the voluntary questioning at headquarters anymore" Raito's eyebrows moved slightly. A surprised expression. A slightly troubled face. For eighteen years, he'd unconsciously refined the art of making these expressions. "[gentle]I understand. I'll go" He answered calmly. His father's shoulders dropped imperceptibly. ——Had he felt relief, or had sadness washed over him? Raito couldn't tell. And yet, he found he couldn't dismiss it as unimportant either. Before stepping outside, Raito turned back for exactly one second. Down the hallway, the stairs to the second floor. His bedroom door. The Death Note was in the desk drawer, hidden in a false bottom. A spot in the camera's blind spot. Even if L's investigators came, finding it would be impossible. (No problem.) Raito turned forward and closed the door. --- Tiara Palace Hotel——a high-rise hotel in Minato Ward, Tokyo, where L had rented out an entire floor as his investigation headquarters——the second basement level was narrower than Raito had expected. Concrete walls. Metal doors. Eight cameras. From the moment Raito entered the room, he counted the camera positions. Two in the four corners of the ceiling, four on the walls, one near the ventilation shaft, one on the door frame. Eight total. It took less than three seconds. He was handcuffed. The moment the cold metal touched his wrist, a single equation began moving in Raito's mind. (It's only circumstantial evidence. A 0.87 correlation coefficient is just "high probability"—not "proof." If I continue to behave as a perfectly innocent person, they'll break first.) The logic was sound. Correct. Flawless. And yet. Ryuzaki's face slipped into his thoughts. What expression had he made when Raito gave his name at the investigation headquarters? Raito didn't know. He didn't know, and yet he found himself imagining it anyway. Hunched over, expressionless, muttering "Yagami Raito" in that soft voice. Or—— Raito clenched his back teeth. (Emotions are a hindrance. I'll erase them all later.) He pressed his back against the concrete wall and closed his eyes. --- The second night of confinement. Deep into the darkness. Raito was staring at the ceiling. It was quiet. No sound from outside penetrated here. The basement of a hotel was, in that sense, a perfectly sealed space. (Now is the only time.) Raito closed his eyes. To renounce ownership of the Death Note——that was one of the notebook's rules. If he released ownership, all memories related to the notebook would disappear. His plans as Kira, his crimes, his battle of wits with Ryuzaki, everything. The question was whether the self that remained after the erasure could come back. Kira—the version of Raito that existed in that final moment—thought: ——Well, whatever. In the next instant, something was quietly, silently torn away. --- He opened his eyes. Cold. His hands were cold. Something hard was pressing against his wrists. Metal. Handcuffs. Why am I handcuffed? Raito, still sitting on the floor, looked around the room. Concrete walls. Metal door. Cameras visible in the ceiling. (……Where is this?) He tried to organize his thoughts. His name is Yagami Raito. Eighteen years old. A student at Todai University. His father is the director of the police agency's——the Kira Countermeasures Headquarters. Kira. He understood the meaning of that word. It was the name given to the mysterious entity that was killing criminals one after another. He'd heard about it on the news. A story that had shocked the world. But what did that have to do with him? Raito tried to stand up and couldn't manage it. His legs wouldn't obey. The handcuff chain was attached to the wall, limiting his range of movement. Why. Why am I here? He couldn't remember the reason at all. Couldn't recall it. Something must have happened, but nothing connected. His mind was white, empty. Raito pulled his knees to his chest and pressed his face against the wall. Tears came. It wasn't an act. He was genuinely terrified, lonely, and crying because he understood nothing. Quietly, without sound, just tears tracing down his cheeks. --- On the twenty-fourth floor, in the monitoring room, L was staring intently at one monitor. Black hair gathered in a mass. Heterochromatic eyes——left silver, right deep blue——reflecting the screen. In his usual hunched posture, knees drawn up, holding a coffee cup in his hand, he didn't move. (……Is it an act?) He posed the question in his mind. No answer came. The face of Raito that L had seen until now was——perfect. Every smile, every surprised expression, every angry face——all of it calculated somewhere. L could tell. Because he was the kind of person who could tell, L had been able to corner him this far. But. The Raito on the monitor now was different. Knees drawn up, face pressed against the wall, crying. Not a calculated way of crying. Not a face that was "using" tears. Just a confused, frightened, eighteen-year-old face, crying. L dropped three sugar cubes into his coffee all at once. A small splash. He looked at the footage again. "[serious]……Watari" "[gentle]Yes" Watari answered quietly. A white-haired gentleman who supported all of L's actions. L tried to speak——and stopped. He couldn't even organize what he'd been about to say. In that moment, Watari moved the coffee pot. Splash. "[surprised]Oh……" Coffee spilled onto the corner of the terminal. The screen went black for an instant. L turned around at incredible speed. "[scared]I couldn't see that moment" "[sad]My sincerest apologies……I'll rewind immediately" Watari operated the controls with embarrassment. The screen returned. Raito was still crying. L watched that footage for several seconds. Then he put a single sugar cube directly into his mouth instead of into his coffee. Sweet. ——He hadn't noticed that. --- The next day. A woman arrived in the lobby of Tiara Palace Hotel. Konoha Miyuki placed both hands together in front of her and spoke politely to the front desk staff. "[gentle]Please release Raito-kun. He's absolutely not Kira" The front desk staff looked troubled. "[serious]Ma'am, we're not in a position to provide that kind of information——" "[serious]I'm Raito-kun's classmate. Could I speak directly with the person in charge?" Miyuki didn't let her smile falter. But her eyes weren't smiling. Raito-kun was being held by Ryuzaki. That strange man had locked Raito-kun away. That fact kept repeating in Miyuki's mind. The front desk staff, at a loss, transferred the call. After a moment, the line connected. "[cold]……A classmate?" A soft, emotionless voice. In the monitoring room, L was quietly confirming with Watari. "[cold]Konoha Miyuki?" "[gentle]She appears to harbor romantic feelings for Raito-kun" L took a sip of tea. Then he put another sugar cube directly into his mouth. Watari watched silently. "[cold]……I see" L's voice reached Miyuki through the intercom. "[cold]If you have no evidence, please go home" The call ended. Miyuki heard the sound of the handset being returned. She slowly lowered herself onto the lobby sofa. On her lap, her fists clenched tightly. If that man didn't exist. If that man simply didn't exist, then Raito-kun would be—— Something hardened inside Miyuki. The emotion connected to the name Ryuzaki transformed into something colder and heavier than anger. --- Day three. Raito sat on the floor and looked up at the camera. No more tears came. Whether from exhaustion or numbness, he didn't know. But he was certain that someone he knew was here. Someone was on the other side of the camera. Raito opened his mouth toward the camera. "[sad]……Tell me why I'm here" His voice was hoarse. "[sad]Let me see Ryuzaki" If this were the Raito who remembered being Kira, he would never have said those words. Showing weakness to L was the same as defeat for the old Raito. But this Raito had no such calculations. He just wanted someone to explain. Why was he here? What had happened? He wanted to meet someone who knew. And somehow, the face that came to mind as that "someone" was Ryuzaki's. He thought of him as a strange guy. Hunched over, barefoot, someone who put way too much sugar in his coffee. He'd sat next to him at school. He couldn't remember the details, but that face had definitely been there. --- In the monitoring room, L placed his finger on the response button. He didn't move it. In the monitor, Raito was looking up at the camera. His voice was slightly hoarse. He was saying "Let me see Ryuzaki." For several seconds, nothing. L didn't respond. But he couldn't take his eyes off the monitor. (This is……) His thoughts wouldn't move properly. His suspicion of Raito hadn't changed. The 0.87 correlation coefficient remained. The circumstantial evidence continued to pile up. But. There was no calculation in Raito's eyes now. Just the eyes of an eighteen-year-old. --- Deep into the fourth night. Raito couldn't sleep. He was staring at the ceiling. Since being locked in here, his father hadn't come. His classmates' voices hadn't reached him. Ryuzaki wouldn't respond. All connections had been severed. It was then that Raito realized something for the first time. ——He had always been alone. The mask of Kira, the mask of the perfect honor student——he had neither now. As just Yagami Raito, he'd never known what it meant to have nothing like this. He'd always been surrounded by people. He'd always been spoken to with smiles. But what if all of that had been behind a mask? Then there was no one in this entire world who knew the real him. That fact settled quietly, seeping in with weight. At that moment. The small window in the cell door slid open. Something was pushed through the slot. A small paper plate. On it, a single slice of white cake. A small piece of paper was attached with just one line written on it. ——Sugar replenishment. I'll hear your story again tomorrow. There was no signature. Raito, still sitting on the floor, stared at the cake. For a long time, he couldn't move. It was Ryuzaki, he thought. He couldn't explain how he knew. But he knew. He couldn't imagine anyone else doing something like this. The man who put five sugar cubes in his coffee, offering provisions with the words "sugar replenishment." It couldn't be anyone but him. Tears spilled from Raito's eyes. He didn't understand why he was crying. Was it happiness? Frustration? Or was he simply exhausted? Everything was mixed together, impossible to sort out. He just ate the cake while crying. It was sweet. ——With his back against the cell wall, knees drawn up, Raito looked at the ceiling. He was thinking about Ryuzaki. The man who'd locked him away. And yet somehow, that face had taken root in his chest. (Why can't I stop thinking about him……He's the one who locked me up……Could I possibly……No, absolutely not, no no no!) Raito shook his head left and right. Then, quietly, tears welled up again. In a place between comedy and seriousness, impossible to categorize, Raito passed through the night. --- In the monitoring room, L sat in front of the monitor, watching Raito's image. He was trying to understand the meaning of his own action——offering the cake. But he couldn't. (There's no investigative purpose to it……) He knew that much. And yet he couldn't explain why he'd done it anyway. "[cold]Watari" "[gentle]Yes" "[cold]What's the legal limit for detention?" Watari paused slightly. "[gentle]Fifty days. Forty-six remaining" L didn't take his eyes off the monitor. Forty-six days. Within that time, he had to solidify the evidence, or he'd have to release Raito. He understood that. It was the logical conclusion. But what wa