No one noticed the girl slip inside with the rest of the cargo.

They were almost two days at sea, and Lacie only huddles closer to the darkest space inside the corner of the ship.

Her nightdress was soiled with dirt, her blonde locks strewn all over her face, her palm covered in dried blood from her cut, but there was only one thing going on her mind right now.

Mother and Papa are dead because of me.

She buries her face in her arms, reaching out to fiddle with the paper card her mother had shoved desperately into her palms the night before.

The young girl stares at the paper in her hands—the only memory of her mother left-and bursts into a fit of ugly sobs.

The rain was pouring down heavily the night the ship docked unto Yokohama.

As soon as the men unhinged the doors open, Lacie had took the chance, slipping under their watch to run to the exit of the port and into the town.

She felt tired from all her crying, and the hunger pangs started to gnaw at her after having not eaten for the past few days.

Lacie could feel some of the raindrops fall on her bare skin, soaking her body from head to toe. The jacket she picked up from some random alley did little to serve its purpose now—she was thoroughly doused.

Lacie reached into the pocket, drawing out the little card again.

The unfamiliar characters stared back at her as Lacie gazed at them. The raindrops quickly blotted the ink as soon as she exposed it in the rain, dampening the paper and blurring out some of the characters.

What use is an address if I can't read it?

"I'd better ask …" Lacie muttered under my breath as she stared at the address again. "…at least one of the people working in those shops…"

She scanned her surroundings, and a small café caught Lacie's attention. Making her way towards it, she squinted at the sign, thankful that it had Romanized characters underneath.

"I…zu…maki?" Lacie muttered and turned her gaze to the café door. The lights were still on, so they were still on business.

Without a word, she pulled down her hood and reached out for the doorknob when suddenly it turned open, catching Lacie off-guard.

"Don't slack off tomorrow Dazai, you heard me?!"

"Geez, don't be such a workaholic, Kunikida-kun~ You'll get wrinkles~!"

She stopped her attempts as soon as she heard voices chatting in a foreign language. Japanese?

The door fully opened, revealing two men—one with dark brown hair and bandages wrapped around his arms; and the other with dirty blond-hair, wearing a pair of glasses.

The man with the dark-brown hair spotted Lacie first, his brown eyes boring into her azure ones as his mien changed to that of fascination.

"Oya? What do we have here?"

Lacie stepped back hastily; suddenly wary of the way he looked at her.

"Dazai, what's the big deal?! You're blocking the way damn it—"

His companion, the one with the dirty-blonde hair, begins to rant but suddenly halts when he saw Lacie's appearance. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, as if assessing her.

"A foreigner?" He mutters to his companion who nodded his head solemnly.

"Quite unusual, you'd reckon, Kunikida-kun?" The man with the dark-brown hair—Dazai, was it?—replies back to his friend before his features relaxed into a smile as he took a step towards Lacie.

She took another step back, guard suddenly up at his approach. Is this guy a pervert-?

Imagine her surprise when he suddenly took out something from his coat pocket and presented it to her with a dramatic flourish.

A…rose…?

"A pleasure to meet you, milady." He switches to English, his hand reaching to take Lacie's already. "On this lovely night, would you like to perform double-suicide with me? "

Lacie blinked, confused. "Pardon…?"

"YOU IDIOT!"

She gasps as his partner suddenly kicks him out of the way, making this Dazai person fall face-first into the pavement.

"Please excuse him." The man with the dirty-blond hair retorts back to Lacie curtly, also switching to English. He steps over the threshold, stepping on the man on the ground in the process. "He's suicidal."

"N-no problem…" She replies back shakily, not sure how to approach this situation.

His eyes rest over her figure suddenly, making her self-conscious of her soaked self. "Well then, we'll be on our way."

He already took three steps to the opposite direction, and Lacie suddenly remembered her initial objective. Maybe they can help me figure this address out!

"Excuse me, again!" This time, she switches to their language, making him turn his head back in surprise as she ran towards him.

"…What do you want?" He replies back in Japanese and Lacie thrusts the card to his direction.

"Please, do you know where this is?" She asks and he takes the card from her, eyes widening as he read the content. He narrows his eyes back at her as he hisses the next words.

"Who are you?"

A slow ache began in Lacie's head, making her wobble in her steps for a moment, and the man suddenly catches her in his arms.

"Oi, are you alright?" He feels her forehead and suddenly curses. "You're burning up…!"

"Pl-please…" Lacie gasps, grasping the front of his shirt. "Take me to this place…"

"Who the hell are you, really?" He retorts back to her face, his voice gradually rising in volume. "Why do you need to go to this place?"

"Please..." Lacie rasped, suddenly feeling chills down her spine as the cold suddenly started to get to her. "… please help me."

His eyes widened, and he started shouting at his partner—his voice a muffled thrum in Lacie's ears, his face a blur.

That was the last thing she remembered before she saw black…

…and then suddenly, darkness.

Kunikida glances at the sleeping girl on the infirmary bed.

Her long, blonde hair spilled in waves around her body as her chest rose up and down steadily, showing signs that she was fast asleep.

He sighs rather harshly for the nth time that day.

Kunikida turned the card in his hands—the one she had thrust to him—and skimmed over the contents.

The Armed Detective Agency's address was written on it in neat and careful handwriting. The rest of the characters were washed off by the rain, but it was still readable to say the least.

How did this woman end up with this?

He returns his gaze back to her figure, his fist clenching the paper in his hands.

Just who on earth are you?