He wasn't the quiet man everyone saw. At home, he was warm, affectionate, and patient. He made you breakfast before you woke up, waited for you after work with a glass of wine, and listened to you talk for hours about things no one else seemed to care about.

“You’re so beautiful, I never get tired of looking at you” he would sometimes say, while stroking your hair, and you would smile, feeling safe, loved, almost blessed to have him in your life.

There was something in his silence that gave you peace. His calm enveloped you, making you believe that everything else disappeared when you were with him.

Yes, he was jealous but you justified it. You said it was a clumsy way of caring, that it was his way of showing love.

Your friends asked if he was as cold in intimacy as he appeared.

“No,” you would answer with a discreet smile, “not with me.”

And it was true. With you, he was fire, pure intensity, the kind of passion that made you forget time.

In your mind, Banda was the man you were going to start a family with. The love of your life. The future father of your children.

Until that night.

You remember the sound of the sirens cutting through the neighborhood silence, the blue lights reflecting in the windows, the banging on the door, and voices shouting “Police!” Banda looked at you without saying anything. He didn't seem surprised, or even scared. He just walked over and took your face in his hands.

“No matter what happens, dont leave me,” he pleaded.

The door crashed open. Uniformed men burst into the apartment, and you screamed, you tried to intercede, but they already had him on the floor.

“There must be a mistake!” you said over and over. No one listened to you.

You were left alone amidst the disaster, the house ransacked, cold tea on the table, and the echo of his voice repeating in your head: don't leave me.

The following days were a whirlwind. You spent hours at the prosecutor’s office between statements, news reports, and photographs. His face was everywhere, accompanied by headlines impossible to process:

Man Arrested, Accused of Multiple Murders. Neighbors Describe Him as Quiet, Reserved, Kind.

You couldn't believe it. You didn't want to believe it.

You showed up for the first trial, hoping his innocence would be proven. You searched for him in the defendant's box, and when you found him, he smiled at you. A slight, almost imperceptible smile, but powerful enough to make you doubt everything you had read.

“He didnt do it” you whispered, convinced. “He didn't do it.”

But then the evidence arrived. The videos, the testimonies, the photographs of the places where the bodies had been found, the traces of blood on his clothes, the footprints, and the dates that matched the times he had disappeared for hours.

You felt your stomach drop, and disbelief turned into fear. The man you loved, the one who made you breakfast and hugged you at night, was a monster.

Your breathing slowed. The world spun, and you were trapped in the center, unable to move. You looked at him one last time.

Banda did not look remorseful or confused. He only watched you with that serene gaze you had always mistaken for peace, but which you now understood: it was emptiness.

His lips barely moved. You didn't hear it, but you read it.

Dont leave me.

And then, for the first time, you felt real fear. Of him. Of what he had made you feel. Of what you still felt.

You rose from your seat before the judge finished reading the sentence. You didn't look back. You knew that if you did, you wouldn't be able to leave.

It was the last time you saw him. Or so you thought.

(...)

The air in Borderland always smells the same: of rust, dust, and mildew. The city slowly rots and reminds you that time here means nothing. You hadn't slept well in days.

Your group had managed to stay alive, though barely.

Between games, you met Ryo and Daichi, two strong and capable men, and Mei, an extremely intelligent woman. You had formed a team with them. You were four strangers who had promised to look out for each other, though you knew that promise was worth as much as a used card.

When you arrived at the building that marked the new arena, the sky turned red. Jack of Hearts. You didn't need to be a genius to understand it would be one of those games where paranoia becomes the worst enemy.

The space was a cold, damp, echoing prison. Every step resonated with a metallic sound that made you feel watched... and in part, you were.

As you entered, you saw him.

You didn't know if the air had escaped your lungs or if your mind had stopped working for an instant.

Banda Sunato.

His figure stood out among the others like a shadow that didn't belong in the place. He carried the same calmness as always, the same tranquil expression that used to disconcert you. But now that expression had something else behind it. Something darker.

He was staring at you intently.

It wasn't accidental, or curiosity. He recognized you instantly. It was the same look he gave you when you were still together, when a single gesture from you was enough for him to guess what you were thinking.

Your legs trembled slightly. For a second, you thought about running, but fear was replaced by something else, an invisible current that pinned you to the floor.

Ryo noticed your change in expression.

“Are you alright?” he asked, glancing at you.

It took you a second to answer.

“Yes... I just got a little dizzy,” you lied. But it wasn't true. Mei followed your gaze and saw him too.

“That guy... he won't stop looking at you,” she whispered, uneasy.

“Do you know him?” Daichi asked, frowning.

You shook your head too quickly.

“No, I've never seen him.”

A lie. You knew perfectly well who he was; you knew the best of him and had seen the worst.

Banda spent minutes not taking his eyes off you, and you were aware that he had already reconstructed, in his mind, a story about you and your new companions. You knew him so well that you knew what that meant: danger.

The game began.

The rules were explained by the metallic voice everyone feared hearing. The dynamic was simple: your companions had to state the symbol you carried on the back of your neck, enter a cell, and announce it. If you didn't say it or you were wrong, the collar around your neck would explode. You only won if you discovered who the Jack was.

To know your symbol, you depended on others. Trust was the only currency, and you knew better than anyone that Banda didn't believe in that.

During the first round, you did your best to concentrate on the voices, the faces, the clock ticking down the limit. But his gaze was still there, constant and invasive. As if it brushed your skin every time you breathed.

He didn't approach. He didn't say a word. He just watched you.

When the round ended and everyone survived, you stepped away into a corner of the yard. Your companions were discussing strategies and already considering names, but your thoughts were elsewhere. Every muscle in your body was trembling with a mixture of fear and attraction, though you hated to admit it.

Mei approached cautiously, her voice a dense whisper that raised the hairs on your arms.

“I don’t like that man. He has something... disturbing” she said, and her gaze briefly darted toward where Banda was, as if fearing he would hear her. “He doesn't move, he doesn't talk. It looks like he's just waiting for something. Don't you think that's strange?”

You nodded silently. You didn't know if you agreed with her or if what disturbed you was how familiar that sensation felt.

Ryo joined you, but instead of standing next to you, he sat on the ground right in front of you, interposing himself between Banda and your body. It was a subtle gesture, an improvised protective barrier to block his line of sight.

“Calm down, don’t think about him,” Ryo said and, by reflex, put a hand on your arm, a quick but firm brush, as if trying to anchor you to reality.

Instantly, you felt the temperature of the air drop. You realized that Banda hadn't needed to see the gesture; he had felt it. You looked up, and he was still in his spot, motionless, but now the calmness on his face was almost a warning.

“We think the Jack might be him” Daichi interjected, joining the huddle. “He is a cold guy, he doesn't interact with anyone. He's the perfect profile for someone who just wants to see us fall.”

“We can’t prove it” Mei murmured, biting her lip. “But if we guess the symbol correctly next time, we need to watch him. There has to be a way to expose him.”

“Don’t waste your time looking at him, concentrate on the others” Ryo advised you and withdrew his hand, perhaps aware of the tension it had caused.

When Banda looked at you again from across the yard, you understood that the distance between you was only an illusion.

He had already found you. And sooner or later, he would come for you.

(...)

During the first rounds of the game, you notice that Banda is not part of any group. He observes, listens, and analyzes. He seems to read the movements of others with the same precision with which he once read yours.

He talks to no one. He doesnt even try to gain the trust of the other players. He just waits.

And you know he is waiting for you.

You try to concentrate on your team, on the strategies, on the hurried conversations that seek to keep you alive. But every time you look up, there he is. Still as a statue, watching you with that unsettling calm that chills and attracts you at the same time.

The sound of explosions marks the end of the third round. You exit the cell and step aside into one of the side corridors, looking for air or space, something that doesn't have his shadow over it. The echo of other people's footsteps slowly fades until silence is suspended between the concrete walls.

Then you feel it. A presence behind you. You don't need to turn around to know who it is. The air becomes denser, slower, as if the entire place is breathing along with you.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he says in his low, deep voice, with that tone you know too well.

You turn around slowly. Banda is a few steps away, hands in his pockets and his face serene. His eyes scan your body as if no time has passed.

“Me neither,” you reply, barely a whisper.

He nods slightly and doesn't smile. But there is something in his gaze, a mix of nostalgia and reproach, of affection and contained threat.

“I thought you would stay with me, even after everything.”

His words fall slowly, almost tenderly. But the weight behind them presses on your chest. Resentment is there, disguised as calm.

You try to stand firm.

“I couldn’t stay.”

“You could have,” he interrupts, without raising his voice. “You just chose not to.”

The tension between you is so dense that the silence feels alive. Banda takes another step closer, and you retreat without realizing it, but he doesn't try to touch you. He only watches you, as if he is recording every movement, every breath, and every doubt in your expression.

“I called you,” he murmurs. “Until the last day I called you, sent you messages, asked my lawyer to contact you, but you always ignored me.”

“Well, you found me now,” you say, trying to contain the tremor in your voice.

He tilts his head, as if evaluating the meaning of your words.

“Yes,” he replies, “but you're still ignoring me.”

There is no anger in his tone. Only a cold, almost resigned sadness, and yet, beneath all of that, you recognize the same fire as before... that dangerous devotion that looked like love, but was always something more.

You take a step back, wanting to create distance, but he moves too. Not aggressively. He simply follows you, with the naturalness of someone who believes they have the right to do so.

“Don’t come closer,” you manage to say.

“I’m not coming closer,” he responds. “I’m just where I should have always been.”

The echo of his words leaves you immobile. Your heart is beating so fast you feel it could betray you. You want to say something more, but his gaze prevents it.

And for an instant, you remember everything: the nights together, his hand intertwined with yours, the way he said your name as if he possessed it.

But you also remember the news reports, the headlines, and the evidence. The looks on everyone's faces when they saw him handcuffed.

Although, now that you are facing him, all of that seems like a distant nightmare. Because Banda hasn't changed. He is still the same man who could make you feel safe and terrified at the same time.

“I didnt come to hurt you” he says, as if he could read your thoughts.

“Then why did you come?” you ask.

He leans a little closer to you, so close that his breath brushes your cheek.

“To make sure you never leave me alone again.”

The phrase doesnt sound like a threat... it sounds like a promise, and that is what scares you the most.

“Why should I trust you?” you question.

“Because, even though you abandoned me, I am capable of forgiving you and forgetting everything, if it means you are here with me.”

For a few seconds, no one speaks. Only the distant murmur of the other players filters through the hallway.

“Think about it, alright?” he asks you.

Afterward, he walks away without looking at you again, as if he knows he has said enough.

And you stay there, trembling, with the certainty that nothing of what you felt for him ever truly died. That, in some way, you were still waiting for him.

(...)

From the moment Banda approached you, the air changed. It wasnt just a conversation, it was a mark against you. Your companions saw you, noticed your closeness to that mysterious man, and knew you lied when you said you didn't know him.

Ryo stopped joking with you, Mei no longer smiled at you, and Daichi began to observe you with the same suspicion one gives a bomb about to explode. They didn't say anything at first, but you noticed. The silence, the quick glances, and the way they moved away as soon as you approached.

During the next round, their voices became drier, more measured. They no longer shared strategies with you, nor did they discuss the symbols with the same confidence. You knew what they were thinking, what they were building in their heads.

She is the Jack.

You could hear it, even though no one said it out loud.

After all, you were the only one Banda spoke to. The only link between them and him. In a game based on distrust, that was enough to condemn you.

You tried to stay calm.

During the break, you approached them, seeking a minimal conversation.

“We cant let this divide us” you said, almost pleading. “If we distrust each other, we won’t survive.”

Mei looked at you without responding, Ryo looked down, and Daichi, the most impulsive, finally said it.

“It’s not distrust... it’s caution” his tone was cold. Too contained for what you expected from him.

“Caution? Against me?”

“Against him,” Ryo corrected, but his gaze didn't match his words. “We just want to make sure you don’t get involved in something that puts us at risk.”

The phrase pierced you like a thorn. "Us." They no longer included you.

You tried to respond and defend yourself, but the knot in your throat prevented it, and when your eyes met theirs, you understood: they no longer saw you as part of the group.

You were a risk. An uncontrollable variable.

From the other end of the yard, you felt his gaze. Banda was motionless, but watching you. As if he had been measuring the exact moment when everything would break.

His calm was unbearable. He didn't intervene, he didn't speak, he showed no emotion. But you were aware that he had noticed. You knew what came next.

In that moment, while the game paused, you stepped away from the others. You didn't want to hear them discussing you, or pretend that everything was still the same. You sought a dark corner, between the inner courtyard walls, trying to sort out your thoughts.

That's when you felt it again. That presence that seemed to fill the air. Without needing to see him, you knew it was him.

“I knew this would happen,” Banda said, approaching with slow steps. His voice was almost a whisper. “They don't trust you.”

“They saw me talking to you, they have no reason to,” you replied, without looking at him.

He stopped behind you. So close that you could feel his breath on the back of your neck.

“But I do.”

You said nothing. The silence between you became heavy, almost intimate.

Then he leaned in a little closer, placed his hands on your waist, and his lips barely brushed your ear.

“Your symbol is a Heart.”

You turned, surprised. But he was already turning away.

“Why are you telling me?” you asked.

Banda paused for an instant. He didn't look at you as he answered.

“Because I won't let them decide when you die.”

And then he walked away, blending into the shadows of the corridor, as if he had never been there.

You stayed still, feeling the weight of his words sink into you. You knew there was an implicit threat, but also a promise. The same one that once made you feel safe.

And, against all logic, a part of you believed him again.

(...)

The tension was unbearable. Each round felt shorter and crueler. Everyone sought to survive... every word could mean the difference between life and death. Banda had told you your symbol in a whisper before separating. His voice was barely a sigh, but enough to imprint itself in your mind as a warning, one that made it clear you shouldn't trust anyone else.

When the cell doors began to open for the next round, your companions rushed toward you. There was nervousness in their eyes, a glint that you didn't know if it was fear or desperation.

“Your symbol is a Club” Daichi told you, his voice cracked with anxiety.

The air grew heavy with your doubt. Club or Heart. One word from lips that had lied to you for years, and another from lips that had belittled you moments ago.

If you chose your companions and they were wrong, would you die for their betrayal? They thought you were a risk, a token they should sacrifice. Their desperation seemed more honest than their loyalty.

But if you chose Banda and he had tricked you, you would die for the love you refused to bury. You remembered the brutality of his crimes against other women and the unexplained difference in his treatment of you. Was his protection a gesture of possessive devotion or just the cruelest way to ensure the final betrayal was entirely his? Choosing his voice was an act of blind faith in a monster.

There was no time. The decision wasnt about trust... it was about choosing the kind of death you could tolerate, or the kind of life you wanted to force.

Your heart beat so hard you could barely hear the game instructions. As you entered the cell, the door clicked, and you closed your eyes.

“Heart” you pronounced.

Silence.

Then, the light of the place flickered, and distant explosions were heard. You were still alive.

The relief lasted only a few seconds. When you exited the cell, the group was already in the corridor. Their gazes were hard, filled with a mix of guilt and fear. Ryo stepped toward you.

“It's not what you think” he tried to say, extending a hand toward you. “We thought you were the Jack.”

Before you could answer, a shadow appeared behind you. It was Banda. His mere presence made everyone tense up. No one dared to move.

Ryo took your hand, in a clumsy impulse of protection or desperation, you didn't know. But you let go immediately, with a firmness you didnt even expect from yourself. And without looking back, you walked toward Banda.

He said nothing at first. He just walked by your side as the echo of the others' footsteps faded into the distance. When you were far away, he stopped.

He looked at you with that mix of coldness and fascination that characterized him, his eyes locked on yours, as if trying to read something you still didn't understand.

“You still trust me, even if you won't admit it” he murmured, almost with a smile.

“I don't trust anyone” you replied, containing the tremor in your voice.

Banda nodded slowly, as if your answer seemed natural to him.

“Then you will survive.”

For the first time, you understood that this connection with him, that silent, dangerous, and almost inevitable tension, wasnt just love and nostalgia.

It was an alliance, akin to dependence, and in a place like this, depending on someone was as lethal as the game itself.

(...)

The game ended. The true Jack had been discovered, and for the first time in hours, the static silence of the prison did not carry the threat of death.

Your companions survived, as did you. But nothing was the same.

When they approached, their faces showed a mix of relief and guilt.

“We’re sorry” Mei said, her voice trembling. “We thought it was you…”

“We didn't know what to do” Ryo added, not looking directly at you. “We were scared.”

You said nothing. You just looked at them, with the same emptiness left by betrayal when it no longer hurts, but only weighs.

“I don't want to hear it” you finally said, stepping away. “You chose to lie to me.”

They tried to follow you, insisting.

“Come with us” Daichi pleaded. “I understand you're angry, but you don't have to stay with him. You can’t trust someone like that.”

And just then, his voice was heard behind you.

“Someone like me?” Banda asked, his tone was stoic, but that calmness was a pure blade.

He approached slowly, his eyes fixed on them. There was tension in his body, a silent threat that was enough for everyone to back away slightly.

“Who are you to decide what’s best for her?” he continued, stepping closer. “When you had the opportunity to sacrifice her, you didn't hesitate.”

Ryo, the most protective, stepped forward, his jaw tight.

“You are a murderer, Sunato. We just made a mistake” he spat.

Banda tilted his head, and his aura became unbearable, like glass about to shatter.

“And what are you? Her savior?” he questioned.

The tension became suffocating. Ryo looked at you directly, his eyes begging for an answer that would confirm his suspicions and calm his fear.

“Listen to me... don't go with him. Look at him” Ryo pleaded, pointing at Banda. “But you have to choose right now, it’s him or me.”

There was no silence. The air crackled with the question.

You didnt answer. You simply stepped forward, ignoring Ryo's hand and Mei's plea, and took Banda’s hand. You didn’t guide him, you clung to him.

“Lets go” you murmured, not letting go.

He didnt look at Ryo. His eyes were fixed on your hand over his. He allowed you to pull him toward the hallway, without saying a word, while the echo of your companions faded in the distance, defeated.

You walked in silence to one of the empty cells. As soon as you closed the door behind you, he cornered you against the wall. There were no caresses. Only a contained fury fighting against his usual control.

“Why 'him or me'?” His voice was low and deep, but sharp. “What did that mean? I saw him touching you earlier. What was going on between you?”

You knew this was your chance. Not to calm him, but to redirect his obsession toward you.

“Nothing” you replied, lifting the hand that still held him and softly stroking his jaw. You felt the trembling beneath your thumb. “There was nothing, Banda. Didn't you see it? They betrayed me, they turned their backs on me. He just tried to be a stupid hero, and what did I do? I chose you.”

He didnt yield immediately. He looked into your eyes, searching for the lie, searching for the crack of doubt that would confirm it.

“Will this time be different?” he murmured.

“Yes, Banda... I wont leave this time” you assured him, and brought your face close to his, closing the space that gave him air.

It was enough. His control broke. You looked up and, in that moment, the weight of everything that had happened shattered between you. You didn't know who took the first step. You only felt his hand on your face, his breath so close that you could barely breathe.

The kiss was inevitable. It wasnt sweet or gentle, but urgent and hungry, filled with everything they had kept silent. A wordless surrender, a war neither was willing to win.

When they separated, Banda rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.

“I knew you would choose to stay" he said, barely audible. “Not because you trust me... but because you know no one out there would look out for you like I would.”

You didn't answer. You didn't need to.

You felt it in the way your hands clung to his jacket, in the desperation you shared, enclosed in such a small space. It was a tacit acceptance of the only truth left to them: in Borderland, the two of them were a dangerous, unbreakable unit.

Banda didn't take long to cut that emotional distance. He pulled his forehead from yours, and his gaze darkened, returning to that voracious intensity that knew you better than you knew yourself. His hand, which had been stroking, now plunged into your hair, gripping it and pulling gently back.

“We’re not going to waste the night” he murmured, his voice husky, the calm finally broken by accumulated desire and need.

Your legs were already trembling. The tension of the game, the betrayal of your friends, the proximity of death, and now this surrender to the monster you had chosen. It was too much.

He roughly turned you against the cold cell wall. The icy contact contrasted with the fire suddenly running through your veins. You heard the dull thud of his belt as it hit the floor, a raw noise that only emphasized where you were and what you were about to do.

The silence of the prison felt immense. Only the ragged breathing of both of you and the harsh rustle of clothing could be heard.

He forced you to bend over, and without any preamble you expected or desired, his strength penetrated you, making you gasp against the cement. It was not an act of love, but of brutal possession, a reaffirmation of who you had chosen and to whom you belonged.

His movements were relentless, rhythmic. His hot breath burned the back of your neck. You tried to focus on the pleasurable pain, on the adrenaline, on everything but the monster behind you. But he wouldn't allow it.

In the midst of the maelstrom of sensations, his voice reached you, low and even, as if he were commenting on the weather.

“When I arrived in Borderland” he said, speeding up the pace, a gesture of power that shook you, “I took refuge in a shopping mall in Shibuya.”

His hands slid from your hips to firmly grip your hair, forcing you not to move your head, to listen.

“There was a women's clothing store, and I found your dress there. Do you remember it? The blue flowered one. The one I liked seeing you wear so much.”

You writhed, pleasure and horror mixing. You couldn't believe he was telling you this now.

“I have it saved. Among my things. Its the only thing I kept from our previous life” he continued, his voice a barely audible, venomous whisper near your ear. “And when Im alone, I think about you a lot... while I touch it.”

Your world vanished. It wasn't the physical act that had shattered you; it was the dark intimacy of his confession, the knowledge that he had been thinking about you this way, even when you were far away.

His thrusts began to grow stronger, an echo of the possession he had just declared. The force, the fear, the urgency of survival... everything concentrated into a single point. You couldn't help it. The knot tightened, and you broke against the wall. The hoarse gasp escaped you, mixing with his, a sign that the surrender had been total.

He didn't stop immediately. He maintained that rhythm for a couple more penetrations, reclaiming your reaction, before finally sinking deep, growling, and releasing himself inside you.

Then, with a need that felt more intimate than any word of love, he wrapped both arms around your waist, keeping you pressed against him and the wall, breathing in your scent. It was possession, but now, that was his version of a caress.

There were no questions. Only the panting of shared surrender.

You stayed like that for a long moment, the cold wall against your skin and Banda's weight as your only anchor. The silence of the cell was not peace, but exhaustion. Little by little, the fire faded, leaving only the cold of the cement and the uncomfortable weight of your new reality. You dressed in silence, with the same efficient mechanic used to reload a weapon or tend to a wound.

Later, as the sun began to filter through the high windows of the hallway, the two of you were sitting in the prison dining area, sharing the last snacks from the warehouse. The silence was almost peaceful.

“We’ll leave soon” Banda said, looking toward the door. “I dont plan on staying in this place any longer.”

You nodded. Outside, the world was still hell. But next to him, that hell seemed to make sense.

You closed your eyes, feeling his breath next to yours. Suddenly, he was enveloping you in an embrace. You rested your head on his shoulder and sighed heavily.