Ed Michael drove steadily.Strange cities always felt fresh to him, and driving through unknown places gave him a sense of adventurous pleasure.
He was planning to visit the 3K restaurant owned by Ray Curtis and secretly follow him, hoping to snap some interesting photos.
However, halfway through the drive, his car hit a pothole and jolted violently. The sudden shake knocked over a can of Coke resting on the armrest.
Ed noticed this but couldn't bend down to pick it up while driving—there were vehicles on both sides of him and an intersection ahead.
He stepped on the accelerator and sped through the intersection.
But just as he tried to change lanes and pull over, he realized something was wrong.
The steering wheel felt unusually light.
Surprised, he turned it instinctively. It spun half a circle effortlessly—as if weightless—but the car didn't respond at all.
Startled, Ed quickly let off the gas and moved to brake.
In his panic, his leather-clad foot accidentally kicked the Coke can, which had rolled under the brake pedal. Unbeknownst to him, it had wedged itself tightly. Ed stomped hard—
—but the pedal wouldn't move.
What's going on!?
The vehicle was still speeding, but the road ahead wasn't straight—it curved.
As he veered out of his lane, Ed panicked, wrenching the steering wheel and glancing down in horror.
"Shit!"
He finally saw it—the can of Coke was jammed beneath the brake. He cursed and kicked frantically.
Beep! Beep! Beep!!Horns blared all around him.
The car on his left swerved sharply to avoid him as Ed's vehicle drifted dangerously. He kept kicking, trying in vain to free the pedal.
Bang!!!
A sudden collision from the right slammed into his vehicle. Dazed, he saw stars as his head hit the window.
Now completely out of control, the car veered across the median and into the oncoming lane. Tires screeched, horns wailed, chaos erupted.
On the sidewalk across the street, Hayashi Yoshiki turned his head at the sound.
In the next second, blinding headlights bore down on him.
Twenty meters... fifteen...
The lights shrank; the vehicle loomed larger and larger. Within seconds, Yoshiki saw Ed Michael in the driver's seat—pale, sweating, desperately yanking the wheel.
Bang!
Another sharp impact. The front of the car dipped. The right tire caught, shifting the vehicle's path just slightly.
Yoshiki leapt back—barely.
The rear of the car clipped him, hurling him sideways with tremendous force.
Bang!!!!
The out-of-control vehicle slammed into a nearby building. The explosion of sound was deafening. The windshield shattered into a thousand fragments.
Yoshiki, dazed and in pain, struggled to his feet. Through the broken glass, he saw Ed Michael slumped forward, bloodied. There were no obvious wounds, but...
The seatbelt had snapped at the moment of impact. His cervical spine had taken the full force.
(Goodbye, Mr. Mike...)
Despite the pain, Hayashi Yoshiki smiled.
With his back to the nearby traffic camera, he stepped toward the wreckage. As he drew near, he mouthed something silently to Ed Michael.
The reporter, his head tilted unnaturally from the neck injury, stared at him. His pupils dilated.
He opened his mouth, trying to speak—
—but then the flames came.
From the surveillance footage's angle:
The fire erupted suddenly. Yoshiki, arms limp and stumbling, rushed forward despite his injuries. He reached for the door, trying to help—
—but the door wouldn't budge. It was locked.
The flames intensified.
Yoshiki was forced back. And at that moment—
BOOM!!!
The car exploded. The fireball lit up the entire street.
The blast knocked Yoshiki back like a ragdoll.
He hit the ground hard.
Screams broke out among the onlookers. Cars screeched to a halt.
The flames roared.
After a moment—
"Sir! Are you okay!?"
"How badly are you hurt!?"
"Someone call an ambulance!"
"I already did!"
"There's a fire extinguisher here!!"
Passersby rushed forward. Drivers popped open their trunks to retrieve fire extinguishers.
White powder engulfed the wreckage as they fought the flames.
But it was too late for Ed Michael.His body had already been reduced to a charred corpse, fused to the seat.
Some couldn't bear to look. Others stared in shock.
And then someone recognized him.
"Isn't that the famous detective!?"
"What!?"
"It's Hayashi Yoshiki—!"
"Oh my God!"
A few girls gasped and covered their mouths.
In the middle of the growing crowd, Hayashi Yoshiki sat up slowly, blood trailing from his lips. His usually handsome face was drawn with pain and urgency.
"Danger... don't gather—"
"You're hurt! Stop talking!" a passerby scolded.
"The fire's out!"
"Police are on their way!"
"It's okay now. Hang in there."
More people arrived.
And once he knew the danger had passed, Hayashi Yoshiki lost consciousness.
The ambulances and police sirens howled in the distance, growing closer.