The Drive

The air in the room was heavy and ice-cold. Asakura could hear nothing but the unnatural, pounding rhythm of his own heart. Defeated, he gave a quiet nod.

Z saw the compliance in his eyes and offered a satisfied smirk. “—I see you understand the situation, Doctor.”

He moved quickly, pulling a black hood over Asakura’s face.

“I apologize for the inconvenience, but you will ride in the car blindfolded. We must be discreet, as you can imagine.”

Z gently tugged the zip tie restraining Asakura’s hands behind his back, forcing him to stand. He opened the front door, carefully checked that the corridor was empty, and quietly led Asakura out.

The pre-dawn alley was silent, broken only by the distant, lonely bark of a dog. Z opened the rear door of a black sedan parked at the curb and pushed Asakura inside. The car started and moved off soundlessly.

Eventually, the car slowed and turned into a deserted, narrow lane behind the St. Louis International Hospital. The engine died.

Z removed the hood and quietly undid the zip tie. Throughout, he said nothing, simply staring intently into Asakura’s face.

“We’ll get out here, together.”

Asakura’s expression tightened in surprise. “Together?”

The man nodded, pulling a white lab coat from the back seat and shrugging it on. He removed his sunglasses and replaced them with plain, silver-rimmed spectacles.

“Yes. I will pose as a hospital staff member. If I walk beside you, the guard won’t be suspicious.”

His voice was calm, but a flicker of impatience and irritation was subtly mixed in. In his eyes, Asakura saw a volatile cocktail of anger, humiliation, and a chilling obsession with his objective.

Asakura silently opened the car door and slowly put his feet onto the cold asphalt. The night air bit at his skin. Z exited the car swiftly, adjusted the hem of his lab coat, and fell into step directly behind Asakura as if nothing were amiss.

Their pale shadows dissolved into the hospital’s silence, moving toward the entrance without a word.

The Silent Threat

Asakura walked, acutely aware of the man’s presence pressing in on him from behind. Then, abruptly, something hard and metallic pressed gently against the center of his back, just below his shoulder blades.

His body instantly locked up.

A gun? Or a knife…?

He dared not turn around or even speak. He had no way to confirm the object’s nature, but the man’s intent was crystal clear:

Don't try anything stupid.

I hold your life in my hands.

The pressure was palpable, requiring no words. Asakura bit down hard on his lip but did not break his stride.

The hospital’s automatic doors silently slid open to receive them.

In the dead stillness before dawn, the white light of the security gate cast soft shadows on the concrete. Asakura and Z, trailing close behind, moved toward the side entrance.

Inside the security office, the night guard, a tired-looking middle-aged man winding down his shift, was leaning back in his chair reading a newspaper. He looked up at their approaching footsteps.

“Oh, Dr. Asakura. Working at this hour? Thankless job, Doctor.” The guard rubbed his sleepy eyes and smiled.

Asakura managed a faint, forced smile. “Yes, just some unfinished business. I’m just taking the technician here to confirm a few things.”

“Ah, I see. Well, you two go on then. It’s chilly inside, so don’t catch a cold.” The guard didn't spare a suspicious glance at Z, returning his focus to the newspaper.

With that momentary exchange, they passed through the gate and disappeared into the hospital building, unchecked. The click of the closing gate echoed heavily in Asakura’s ears.

Silent, they crossed the main lobby. Only their footsteps broke the stillness of the deserted hospital. Reaching the elevators, Asakura pressed the B1 button.

As the elevator descended, Asakura felt the presence of the man behind him. The hard object—the weapon—had momentarily lifted from his back, but he knew he had to comply. Any attempt to fight back would be futile.

The doors opened on the basement level, and the two men stepped out. Z occasionally glanced up at the security cameras mounted in the ceiling corners, leaning his body forward to conceal his face in an unnaturally low posture—a prowler in a lab coat.

At the door to the Pathology Lab, Asakura swiped his security card. When the lock clicked, he flipped the wall switch, flooding the dimly lit room with harsh white fluorescent light. Stainless steel shelves and large storage freezers lined the sterile space, permeated by artificial cold air.

After surveying the room, Z brought the "hard object" back to gently touch Asakura’s back once more. It wasn’t a press, just a contact, but the pressure was unmistakable.

“Take me to where the samples are stored,” a low, suppressed voice whispered into Asakura’s ear.

Asakura slowly nodded and walked toward the back of the freezer room. The silent pressure and the nocturnal quiet pressed down on his shoulders.

The Exchange

In the Pathology Department, there were rooms for ambient storage and a separate room for the more critical frozen biopsies. Asakura led Z past the rows of paraffin-embedded samples to the sub-zero room where the large metal freezers hummed.

He stopped at one unit, disengaged the lock, and firmly gripped the lid handle with both hands, slowly lifting it.

The instant the seal broke, a white cloud of vaporized liquid nitrogen puffed up, momentarily obscuring Asakura’s face. The heavy air of the sealed space shifted slightly in the otherwise dead silence.

As the vapor dissipated, a row of plastic insulating boxes became visible inside the chamber. Each box contained several small acrylic freezing vials.

Asakura put on the thick insulated gloves attached to the freezer unit. He carefully lifted one box. The number “P,” “Q,” and “R” was clearly marked on the frost-coated side in black marker.

The samples from those three patients are in here…

He felt the cold even through the gloves. He lifted the lid slightly to check the contents. Z stepped closer, looking over his shoulder. Asakura silently raised the box toward Z.

Z saw the labels and the vials inside, and gave a small nod. “...Looks correct.”

Asakura swallowed hard. This was the target of the blackmail—the frozen biopsies, the only evidence that could reveal the truth at St. Louis International.

Yet, a strange calm settled over Asakura. In fact, a small sense of relief flared in his chest.

(It’s alright. This is already part of the plan.) he whispered internally.

The samples marked P, Q, and R in this freezer were not the real ones. He, Mishima, and Director Takai had prepared in secret, moving the genuine biopsies to an unknown research freezer in another room. The acrylic vials now exposed to Z were indistinguishable from the real thing, but they held nothing but simple preservation gel.

(Don’t let him know… move naturally, slowly…)

In that brief moment of held breath, Z’s eyes glinted, and he snatched the box from Asakura’s hands. Frost bloomed on the surface of the container, making the contents even harder to discern.

“...These are them. P, Q, and R. No mistake.”

Z’s voice was cold. He ruthlessly tore the lid open and began casually plucking out the acrylic vials. He squeezed them tightly between his fingers and tossed them, plink, plink, into a waiting black plastic evidence bag. The gelatinous contents clung to the sides due to the freezing temperature, but Z finished the job without checking the contents, satisfied.

(Good. Take them and leave, none the wiser.)

Asakura watched Z, keeping his expression utterly neutral, suppressing all emotion. If Z realized the samples were fake, there was no telling what would happen next. But for now, everything was proceeding perfectly.

The Payoff

Asakura and Z exited the Pathology Lab in silence. When they reached the side entrance, the same guard offered a small nod.

“Finished up, Doctor.”

“Yes, just a few lingering tasks,” Asakura replied calmly. Z also nodded, maintaining his professional guise.

The moment they passed through the door, Asakura felt a sudden release from the suffocating cold of the hospital interior. The pre-dawn light was starting to illuminate the sky. The rising temperature seemed to warm his body—a physical manifestation of the temporary relief from the freezing tension.

They walked to the far corner of the parking lot, where Z stopped and turned to Asakura.

“Dr. Asakura—thank you for your cooperation. You have successfully saved yourself from the ‘scandal.’” His voice was mocking, hard as cold steel. “Of course… if you ever do anything, no matter how small, that is inconvenient for us in the future—”

Z stepped closer, lowering his voice. “—Assume your life will end immediately. Your family, your past, everything.”

Asakura said nothing. If he spoke, the mix of rage and terror would surely break him.

Z seemed to remember something. “Ah, yes,” he said, pulling something from his pocket. It was Asakura’s smartphone.

“You left this behind.”

Z tapped the phone lightly and roughly tossed it into Asakura’s palm. Then, without a backward glance, he turned, opened the car door, and started the engine. The car moved silently, its red taillights glowing faintly as it slowly pulled away in the twilight.

Asakura watched the lights silently. When the car turned the corner and disappeared into the morning mist, he finally let out a deep breath.

In his hand lay the smartphone, a tangible symbol of the day that had just been stolen from him. He stared at the device, which still held a trace of warmth. His trembling fingers started to trace the screen—then suddenly froze.

(It’s not over. It’s just beginning.)

A dim, unwavering flame of resolve began to burn in his chest.