A/N: Since this is a sequel to "Questioning" this is also a crossover with Yu-Gi-Oh! in addition to Assassination Classroom and Mystic Messenger, I only marked it for the latter two because their universes and characters are the primary setting for the story in this fic. It will be a longer series where each of the protagonists (Jumin, Kaiba, and Isogai) takes a turn being the main character, so there will be a balance of involvement from each fandom/source. You don't need to know YGO well to appreciate Kaiba's presence in this story; just Google some pics and memes of him, and you're set.

May 27, 17:28 ~ RFA Chatroom: "It's been six months"

707: But... has anyone heard from V?

ZEN: No...

Yoosung: It's already been 6 months.

ZEN: Do you think something happened?

Yoosung: I honestly don't even expect anything now.

ZEN: Well...

ZEN: I don't like it that we're not hearing from V, but I guess we'll just have to wait.

Jumin cringed as he skimmed the chatroom messages on his phone, wondering if he ought to contribute to the conversation.

707: It's like he just walked off the face of the planet or something...

707: omg

707: Maybe he's in SPACE~

Jumin Han: He might as well be.

Yoosung: Huh? o_0

ZEN: That's right, you're close friends with V

ZEN: Have you heard from him Jumin?

Jumin Han: We were close

Yoosung: How do you mean?

707: What are you talking about, Jumin?

Jumin Han: Nevermind. Forget I said anything.

ZEN: Is there something you're not telling us?

Jumin Han has left the chatroom.

ZEN: Damn

ZEN: he's hiding something

ZEN: that jerk

Yoosung: Careful, Zen

Yoosung: Remember what he did last time you insulted him?

ZEN: Ugh! Don't remind me!

707: Oh~ But you looked so cute wearing those cat-ears your fangirls sent you~

707: wink emoji

ZEN: -_-

ZEN: I

ZEN: hate

ZEN: cats

ZEN: so

ZEN: much

It had already been six months, but to Jumin, it felt like an eternity.

A week after the RFA party, at which Jumin had announced his new leadership position while omitting V's planned absence, Jumin received a voicemail on his phone at an ungodly hour of the night, when there was no way he would be awake.

It was V's goodbye.

He'd gotten to die the way he wanted to, in obscurity and abiguity, and his memory faded the way he wanted it to: slowly, quietly fading from the lives of his friends. He wouldn't have called Jumin at all to say goodbye had he not recalled the pained look of betrayal on his friend's face and felt the need to explain himself one last time.

That voicemail, that missed call, marked Jumin's transition into the second stage of grief: anger.

He'd spent a week in denial, letting Kaiba dote on him while they ignored the world together in favor of each other's company.

Kaiba couldn't stay in South Korea forever, though, no matter how much Jumin wanted him to. Even when he wasn't there, he was still present: phone calls, text messages, emails, and facetime kept them connected. Jumin had finally tapped into his emotional reservoirs, just in time to fall in love and just in time to grieve.

He ranted, he raved, he wept.

Kaiba listened, understood, and comforted. He took everything in stride, and he stayed by Jumin's side, even when he was inconsolable.

Between trips to his space station, visits to foreign locations of his amusement parks, appearances hosting card game tournaments, promoting new products, meeting with any number of foreign and domestic business associates, Kaiba would steal a few hours to stop over in Seoul to meet with his lover, who'd become so thoroughly addicted to him that he even tried to intersect their paths when they were both traveling.

It made Jumin feel restless to know that Kaiba was traveling so much for his work, constantly on the move, constantly pushing the boundaries of what modern technology was capable of. He wished that he could be the one going to him more often, but Mr. Chairman kept too close an eye on him for him to be able to slip away without being found out or without being penalized with an extra work load.

At the same time, he didn't envy the jet-lag, exhaustion, and skewed internal clock that accompanied such frequent, varied travel.

It had taken months for Jumin's anger to subside, now he was just filled with regret. Whenever he found himself second-guessing his decisions—replaying their last conversation in his head a thousand times in a thousand different ways—Kaiba could always tell, and he could always pull Jumin out of his own mind when he most needed it.

Quite frankly, Jumin was amazed that Kaiba had stayed with him after all the crap he'd had to put up with as a result of Jumin's grief.

"Looks like we'll be able to have dinner after all."

"Hm?" Kaiba lifted his head from where he'd crashed on the couch in Jumin's office to catch an hour of sleep.

"That was my father on the phone. He cancelled on me—again." Jumin sighed and pressed his fingers into his temples as he closed his eyes against a growing headache. "This is par for the course with him, but still..." He heard the shift of fabric as Kaiba rose from the couch, but was surprised when a pair of familiar lips pressed to his cheek.

"Do you want to just go home, then?" the brunette murmured against his skin, kissed him again and drew back. "Or do you still want to go out?"

"Practically speaking, it makes sense to still go out," Jumin mused aloud, eyes still closed. "It would be suspicious if we simply went back to my apartment together."

"True." Kaiba leaned against the edge of Jumin's desk and combed back Jumin's hair with his fingers, letting both hands rest on the back of his head.

Jumin opened his eyes, his expression relaxing a little. He leaned in to steal a kiss, placing a hand on Seto's cheek and only pulling away a couple inches to study his face.

"You haven't been sleeping well." Jumin brushed his thumb under Seto's eye, noting the dark semi-circles hidden under a thin layer of expensive concealer. Kaiba's vanity was a natural biproduct of his ego, manifesting itself in his metrosexual tendencies.

"I've been busy. You know how it is." Seto pushed aside Jumin's bangs to kiss his forehead, then leaned back, forcing Jumin to drop his hand.

"How's the Ryūjin Project coming along?" Jumin leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers and cradling the back of his head.

"We encountered complications." Kaiba's frustration changed his tone. "The latest prototype proved to be unsustainable, so we'll have to go back to the original coding and make further alterations."

The Ryūjin Project was one of two current KaibaCorp projects in R&D that were absolutely confidential. Not even Jumin really knew what it was about, though he'd started forming a vague notion that it involved some kind of genetic engineering. The other top secret project was called Kronos, and Jumin knew even less about that one. All he knew about Kronos was that it was the primary reason Kaiba made so many trips to his space station.

"Is that the project that aims to discover the key to immortality?" Jumin joked with a slight twitch of his lips.

"No." Kaiba looked amused instead of frustrated now. Every now and then Jumin would try to guess what his favorite projects—Ryūjin and Kronos—concerned, and his guesses were always absurdly grandiose and improbable. "But I do plan to get started on that project in 2025."

"Are you being serious?"

"No."

"You're such a tease."

"Do you really want to know what it's about?" Seto was being serious now, making an offer that he hadn't made before.

"Yes."

"Hm. Maybe I'll show you when we've finally produced a successful prototype."

Jumin rolled his eyes and dropped his hands back to the keyboard of his computer. "It doesn't have to be perfect for it to be impressive," he remarked as he began responding to a critical email he'd just received.

"It's one of those impossible things that people will refuse to believe until I have succeeded," Seto replied slowly. "Until then, it's just a pipe dream."

"Go back to sleep, Seto. I'll wake you when it's time to leave."

The brunette nodded and tousled Jumin's hair briefly before returning to the couch and laying across it, a throw pillow over his eyes to block out the light.

"Your father's arrived," Kaiba murmured behind his wine glass, watching Mr. Chairman and his guest being seated at their table across the restaurant. Jumin had his back to them, so he was relying on Kaiba's observations to inform him of what his father was up to.

"I'd bet you a small fortune right now that he's with a woman." Jumin's bitter murmur was greeted with an amused chuckle from his partner.

"You'd lose that bet, but I won't hold you to it."

Jumin gave him an odd look.

"You really think you're richer than me, don't you you?"

"When you compare our assets, I'm the only one of us who owns a space station." Kaiba lips twitched into a smirk.

"Your company owns the space station," Jumin corrected with a scowl. "Not you."

"But I own the company, so I also own it by extension."

"I don't see why it matters which of you two is richer, when you're both so vastly affluent," Jaehee grumbled from her reluctant position at the table as the third wheel. They brought her along to most of their public dinners and dates for the purpose of avoiding suspicion, the two of them always footing the bill. Once, Jaehee protested that she didn't have anything formal enough to wear to the opera; Jumin responded with a five-hundred dollar check so that she could buy something appropriate. After that, she never complained again, and Jumin, who insisted in the name of good taste that she never wear the same dress twice, habitually funded her formal-wear.

"If it's not a woman, then who is he?" Jumin asked, returning to the matter at hand before taking another bite of his entree.

"He's young, in his teens, anywhere from… fifteen to eighteen, I'd guess."

"That looks about right," Jaehee agreed. It wasn't her business, but she couldn't ignore the nudge of curiosity.

"He's native Japanese," Kaiba continued, watching the young man in his peripheral vision.

"How can you tell?" Jumin's skepticism was instinctive, though he should know by now not to doubt his lover about anything.

"Coloring, mannerisms." He waved a hand indifferently. "Besides, they're speaking Japanese, so he's either ill-adept at Korean, or they're trying to prevent anyone from understanding them."

"Or both."

"Or both," Kaiba agreed.

"What would Mr. Chairman be doing with a teenager?" Jaehee asked as she sifted her salad, looking quite puzzled.

"Hell if I know," Jumin grumbled, looking more sour than before.

"Give me a few more minutes, and I could probably tell you more."

"Be my guest." Jumin let Kaiba do his deducing and observing, turning to Jaehee to strike up a conversation about something on the news.

There was a time when Seto Kaiba had been obtuse on the matters of human behavior and relations; some time in his early twenties he'd become aware of this deficit and, having set out to remedy the situation, was now more skilled at reading people than the average man.

So when the young man sitting opposite Chairman Han took three sips from his water glass in as many minutes, and hesitated slightly the first time he reached for his silverware, and changed where he was resting his hands four separate times, it was clear to Kaiba that he was nervous. No laughter emanated from their table at any point, nor did the youth's few smiles seem sincere. Cunning, charming, perhaps, but not happy. Then he reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket—the garment probably new and the only one he owned—and withdrew a plain, unsealed envelope. He placed it on the table as he spoke, eyes shining but serious, tapped it with his finger, then slid it across the table to the chairman. He stood from the table with a slight nod of respect, setting his cloth napkin on the seat of his chair before leaving the table to walk towards the restroom.

Kaiba's curiosity was piqued, so after a minute of quiet thought, he, in the name of research, excused himself from the table.

Isogia took a few deep breaths to steady his nerves as he washed his hands, forcing his mind to remain clear.

"Remember to smile," Meg had told him as she touched his cheek, a gentle look in her eyes. "Stay on your guard, be safe, and don't forget to call me when you land." She was standing close to him, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt as they waited at the bus-stop together.

"I won't," he'd promised before their goodbye kiss. "Thank you again for taking care of the little ones for me. If they give you any trouble, let me know."

Caught up in memories of Meg, Isogai hadn't noticed someone entering the bathroom as he dried his hands. He dropped the used hand towel into the proper basket (he'd never before been to a restaurant that had cloth towels in the bathroom for drying your hands, and he was quite amazed by it), flicked his new blue tie—a royal silk affair, a present from Meg as they'd prepared him for this trip—over his should so that it rested on his chest once more, and turned to leave, accidentally bumping into the tall brunette who'd just entered.

"Pardon me, sir," Isogai apologized in his weak Korean. He side-stepped and passed him, hand reaching for the door when a voice stopped him.

"What's a kid like you doing carrying a knife this big?"

Isogai froze for a moment before he turned around. There the brunette stood with Isogai's switchblade in hand, looking vaguely smug and superior, but Isogai couldn't read anything else but wealth from his appearance. He did take a quick inventory of his appearance, though: vivid blue eyes, cleanshaven, broad shoulders, relatively young, but past college age. Fluent, if not native, in Japanese, as his question proved.

"I like to be prepared." Isogai kept himself calm as he turned around and extended a hand, palm facing upward as he held the other's arrogant azure gaze. "I would appreciate it if you gave that back to me."

"Before I do that, I'd like you to answer a question for me." He flicked out the blade and examined it closely. "What business do you have with Chairman Han?"

Isogai could feel his spine stiffen, his instincts preparing him to go on the defensive if he needed to. He narrowed his eyes slightly and replied with clipped, polite words: "I mean no offense, sir, but that's a private matter between he and I. It's none of your business."

"A private matter, hm?" The man concealed the blade, seeming satisfied with its well-kept state. "Business or pleasure?"

"If I tell you, will you give it back?" Isogai asked anxiously. He didn't like being unarmed, and he liked it even less when a stranger was in possession of his weapon. Korosensei may have died, but his teachings and training hadn't left his pupils.

"Sure." Something about that casual smirk made Isogai reluctant to trust him.

"Business."

The weight of the switchblade in his palm was comforting as the knife was returned to the teenager.

"It's just as well that you're dealing with him in business." The smirk slipped into something more serious. "He tends to screw people over in his private life, so be sure that you know what you're doing."

The brunette turned away, so Isogai did too, concealing his knife in his pocket as he exited the bathroom, puzzled by the whole exchange.

What on earth was that about?