Howard, ever the creature of habit, returned to his routine with little fanfare—solving cases, visiting Camellia, and overseeing the firm's slow reconstruction.
The world hadn't shifted dramatically on the surface.
No headlines. No grand recognitions. Just a string of scandals, petty murders, and quiet whispers.
The sort of things Lungmen preferred kept out of the light.
Hoshiguma had returned just the day before.
Her presence at the precinct sent a ripple of joy across the team. Cheers echoed in the break room, a cake appeared as if by magic, and someone even brought balloons.
She'd smiled, played along, and thanked them. But beneath it, she could still feel the scars—just not the physical kind.
Today, she had another engagement. A quiet one.
The sun was setting when she found
Howard leaning against the rusting railing outside the firm, coat slightly windblown, cigarette unlit between his fingers.
"You ready?" she asked.
He looked over, eyebrows lifting.
"You're driving?"
"Seemed easier." She opened the passenger side of a beat-up car.
"Get in."
They pulled away from the kerb in silence for a moment, the city flashing past in streaks of gold and shadow.
"How was the day?" she eventually asked.
Howard exhaled slowly.
"Quiet. Nothing unusual. Someone tried to kill their boss with a wine opener. That was the highlight."
She huffed a quiet laugh.
"Charming."
The drive took them farther from the bright parts of Lungmen—into the rural veins where neon was replaced by silence and cracked glass.
Graffiti danced across the walls of buildings like ghostly fingerprints.
Most of the windows were broken; the paint peeled like sunburnt skin.
They stopped in front of a tired old building sagging under its own weight.
Howard stepped out, key in hand.
"This is the place?" Hoshiguma asked, eyeing the battered structure.
"Less suspect", Howard replied with a smirk.
"People ignore places like this."
She squinted. "Are we doing something illegal?"
"Now how could you accuse me of that?" He said, voice dripping with sarcastic offence.
She gave a sideways glance. "Is it about me?"
Howard paused on the steps, turning to meet her eyes.
"No. I'm not that kind of man. If I were… I'd wait until our relationship was deeper."
"…I see," she replied, looking forward again.
They reached the third floor. Howard unlocked a heavy door—and the world inside changed.
The apartment beyond was pristine. Sleek floors, warm lighting, leather chairs.
It felt like a den of quiet war, not a hideout. One wall bore the centrepiece: a massive board, covered in maps, red strings, and thumbtacks.
Notes were scrawled in dense ink. Photographs—some familiar, some not—formed a web that connected faces to names and names to truths.
Hoshiguma stepped in slowly, eyes catching every detail.
"What is this?" she asked, still scanning the board.
Howard shut the door behind them.
"This… is why I asked for your help."
She turned, waiting.
"I need your underworld experience," he said plainly.
"Your reach and connections ."
"For what?"
"For Ch'en", he said. No hesitation.
Her brows drew slightly.
"She's being held back," he continued.
"You know it. I know it. The mayor has her in his pocket—subtly, silently. He gives her the power she thinks she needs. But it's not real. It's a leash."
Hoshiguma said nothing, but her fists tightened slightly.
"He acts like he's helping," Howard went on, voice lower now, edged with something sharp.
"But all he's doing is twisting her beliefs. She wants to help the infected."
"He gives her just enough to feel like she is. And meanwhile, he makes sure the system never really changes."
Howard turned toward the board.
"I know this because I made a mistake. Something I did…"
" I caused the shift that could cause her to move away from the road she would have taken in the future." He inhaled.
"And if I don't act, she'll be trapped in the LGD forever. Fighting for the fake reality, not truths."
Hoshiguma looked at him, quiet.
"What did you do?"
He ignored the question.
Instead, he pointed to the board.
Photos of gang leaders, smugglers, corrupt businessmen, and even a couple of high-ranking bureaucrats.
Some she recognised. Some she hadn't heard from in years.
And all of them were circled—red lines connecting them to a singular pin at the top.
The mayor's crest.
Howard smiled grimly.
"These are the targets," he said.
"They're connected to him. If we expose them—piece by piece—Ch'en will start to see what we do."
She stepped closer to the board, scanning it.
Each name carried weight.
"You want to bring down all of this?" she asked.
"I want her to see," Howard said.
"Then I want her to choose. But at least this time, the choice will be hers—not one given to her by someone wearing the face of justice and hiding bloodstained hands."
Hoshiguma was silent for a long time.
Then she nodded.
"…Alright," she said. "I'm in."
***
Howard pulled the photograph from the table, the edges worn from handling.
A sharp-eyed man stared back. Neatly slicked white hair.
Gila could be seen hidden under his black suit.
He had the kind of smile only men with too much money and too many secrets wore.
"Yan Yansheng," he said, laying the photo flat under the yellow light.
Hoshiguma's brows twitched.
"He's the CEO of Longwei Trade & Fisheries, one of the biggest seafood corporations in Lungmen."
Howard nodded slowly, folding his arms.
"To anybody? "Yes," he said.
"However, in reality, that business is a curtain. A scaled-down version of Lungmen's underworld."
"Eighty per cent of the warehouses along the waterfront are gang safehouses. Arms, information, smuggling routes—you name it. He's turned the coast into a fortress."
Hoshiguma leaned forward, tapping her nail against the corner of the photograph.
"And he has something, doesn't he?"
Howard's gaze darkened.
"Not something. The thing. Critical intel. Names, shipments… the kind of secrets that the mayor's kept to himself."
She clicked her tongue.
"Then do capture him alive?"
"That's the plan."
But she didn't look convinced.
"Howard", she said, voice low, "you're good. You're strange. But this isn't a man who walks down alleys unprotected."
"Yansheng's got one of the tightest private security corps in the city. They call him the Fisher King because wherever he goes, he's surrounded by sharks. Trained killers. Ex-military. Rumour says his car has enough armour to survive an airstrike."
Howard only smirked, brushing dust from his sleeve.
"I know," he said. "That's why I'm not doing it with just you."
He turned and walked toward the kitchen.
To what looked like an ordinary cabinet—lined with crystal glasses and silver platters.
He reached up and pressed two buttons on the edge of the wooden frame.
The wall groaned.
Then it shifted.
A section of the cabinet folded inward, gears quietly turning until the entire panel receded—revealing a hidden armoury nestled within steel-lined walls.
Rows of weapons glinted in the light—sniper rifles etched with foreign inscriptions, compact auto-pistols with silencers, even prototype tactical gear and missile canisters tagged with serials that didn't exist in any official registry.
A few of the weapons looked almost illegal for warfare, let alone civil operations.
Hoshiguma took a cautious step in, eyes wide.
"Where the hell did you get this?"
Howard shrugged like he'd just shown her his wine collection.
"I have my ways."
She gave a low whistle, fingers brushing a rifle's polished barrel.
"Some of this stuff", she muttered, "not even the L.G.D. has access to. You could level half a district with this loadout."
Howard turned to her, eyes unreadable. "It's up to you. You decide what you think you need."
He gestured toward the tactical uniforms stacked beside the racks—combat suits, gas masks, grappling hooks, and even drone gear.
"I've got the gear. I've got a few off-the-books allies. The only thing I need now—" he paused, tossing her a sleek comms earpiece, "—is your resolve."
Hoshiguma caught the earpiece with one hand.
A beat passed. Then a grin cracked across her face. Dangerous. Excited.
"You really are insane," she said.
"I take that as a yes."
She slid the comm into her jacket pocket, eyes still on the weapons.
"I'm in. Let's reel in the Fisher King.