Chapter 2 STREETLIGHT COLOR

The engagement headlines had barely cooled before Reiji Takamura was back to being a ghost in his own life.

The limousine glided through Tokyo's nightlife. Lights flashed against tinted windows. He sat silently in the backseat, his posture pristine, his eyes far away.

Outside, the city pulsed.

Reiji rarely paid attention to street corners, but something-or someone-caught his eye.

They were stopped at a red light in Shibuya. The kind of moment you forget unless the universe brands it into your memory.

Under the streetlight stood a man. Disheveled denim jacket, paint-streaked boots, cigarette glowing at his lips. His head tilted toward the sky, as if daring the world to look away first.

Their eyes met for barely a second through the window glass.

A flicker of something Reiji hadn't felt in years.

The light turned green. The car drove on.

Reiji leaned forward. "Driver, stop."

"Excuse me, sir?"

But it was too late. The man was gone.

Hours Earlier – Akira's Loft

"Why are you dressed like you're running from a crime scene?" Yuki asked, eyeing Akira's messy black jeans and crumpled jacket.

Akira grabbed a cigarette. "I might be."

"You're being dramatic."

"I'm being restless. There's a difference."

"You mean haunted," Yuki corrected, flipping through his camera roll. "You know you've been sketching the same stranger for two days?"

Akira didn't answer. He pocketed his lighter.

"Where are you going?"

"Out."

Yuki smirked. "Looking for a ghost, huh?"

Akira just slammed the door.

Later – Shibuya Streets

Akira wandered Tokyo like it might answer back.

He didn't know why he stopped at that streetlight. Or why he looked up at the same moment the car passed.

But he saw him.

Sharp suit. Cold eyes. A face from a forgotten memory-or a painting he hadn't dared to finish.

Gone in seconds. But it rattled something inside him.

Mori Art Gallery – Next Day

Tomo Itsuki eyed Akira with suspicion. "You're distracted."

"I need the rooftop space for my installation," Akira replied, avoiding eye contact.

Tomo leaned closer. "You only want that rooftop when something's messing with your head."

Akira looked at him. "Will you give it to me or not?"

Tomo's lips curled. "Only if you let me preview what you're painting."

"No."

"Then we're back to games."

"I'm done playing."

Tomo studied him. "Who is he?"

Akira stiffened.

Tomo's eyes narrowed. "You saw someone. I can tell. You paint like you're chasing a ghost."

Akira walked out without a word.

Reiji's Penthouse – Midnight

Reiji stared at the sketch in front of him. He didn't draw-not really-but he had scrawled the stranger's silhouette onto a notepad like a man possessed.

He ripped the page out, threw it into the fire.

Still, the image burned brighter in his mind.

His phone buzzed. A call from Reika.

"Did you see it?" she asked.

"See what?"

"Your face. On ten different tabloids. You and I are apparently the reincarnation of royalty."

He sighed. "That's exactly what they want us to be."

"I don't care what they want," she replied. "But I do care about not being erased in the process."

"You won't be."

There was a pause. Then, softer:

"Reiji... are you okay?"

He hesitated. "No. But I will be."

She didn't push. "Then let's survive this together. As a team."

He nodded. "As a team."

Backstreets – Another Night

Akira sat against a graffiti wall, sketchpad on his lap, drawing a stranger's eyes over and over again. The page filled with variations-cold, curious, unreadable.

Yuki found him there.

"Want to talk about your new obsession?"

"It's not like that."

Yuki raised a brow. "Then what is it?"

Akira looked up at the night sky. "I don't know yet. But it felt like... like someone else saw through me for a second."

Yuki smirked, but there was a flicker of worry in his gaze. "Just don't lose yourself chasing a ghost, Aki."

Akira didn't reply. He couldn't. The man under the streetlight was no ghost. He was real.

And Akira was going to find him again.