A man in a black suit stands on a dark night road. His black eyes, tinged with gold, reflect the streetlights with a dull glint. Ayato Usui steadily aligns the sights of the handgun in his right hand with the figure ahead.

His movements are practiced. He steadies his breathing and rests his finger on the trigger. The only thing in Ayato's mind is the content of the file he reviewed just minutes ago. The target's name, address, and behavioral patterns. That was enough. Usually.

—Bang.

The dry crack of gunfire echoes through the deserted alleyway. The smell of gunpowder dissolves into the night air. Perfect timing, perfect angle. A shot that couldn't possibly miss.

Ayato's expression crumbles for the first time. He cannot believe the sight before him.

The target—Guest—had twisted their body the moment the shot was fired, as if they could see the trajectory, dodging the bullet by a hair's breadth. The bullet embeds itself in the concrete wall, sending fragments flying.

Impossible. No ordinary human should be capable of such a feat.