The night was silent.

The streetlights visible through the window flickered at regular intervals, and inside the room, there wasn't even the sound of a page turning.

The notebook spread out on the desk revealed its black cover, saying nothing. It asserted its presence simply by the fact that it was there.

Light brushed his fingertips across the cover once.

He remembered the day he first picked up this notebook.

The world was rotten, and he believed that only he could set it right.

That belief was so vivid that there was no room for even the word 'doubt' to intervene.

The sensation of killing people had long since grown dull.

He had persuaded himself countless times that it was merely a process of eliminating evil.

However.

Since when was it.

That before writing a name in the notebook, what came to mind was not the face of a criminal, but the expression of a man with dark eyes.

L.

He was always right behind him.

He suspected without evidence, approached with nothing but conviction, and strangely never let him go.

Light recalled how many lies he had told to defeat him.

He smiled while pretending to be a friend.

He reached out his hand while pretending to trust.

He lived his life while pretending to be an ordinary university student.

At first, that too was a process for the sake of justice.

But now.

Is that really true?

At some point, the reason for killing people became not to change the world, but to protect his own identity.

If L lives, it's dangerous.

If the task force suspects, it's dangerous.

If someone notices, it's dangerous.

At the end of every judgment, the same word was always attached.

'Danger.'

That single word began to surface before justice did.

Light slowly closed his eyes.

Does Kira exist for the sake of justice?

Or is he just attaching the name of justice for the sake of Kira?

For a brief moment, that boundary became blurred.

He didn't like that fact.

He must not waver.

There is no way he would.