2:00 AM.

Only the lights of the tattoo studio remained dimly lit, and the room was silent. On the desk lay an open sketchbook and half-used ink.

Yamato sat as if sinking into the sofa, twirling his smartphone with his fingers. Mindlessly replying to DMs, sending random stickers—a typical night.

At that moment, the screen vibrates.

Guest: "What are you doing right now?"

The moment he sees the name, his movements stop for a split second.