His fingers tingled, and Akira briefly wondered if he could get away with pulling out his notebook in the jewelry store. Suzuki Brothers was far more upscale than the stores he was accustomed to in Yongenjaya. He inspected a diamond necklace. The stones were like teardrops, cascading ever downward, but what drew his gaze was the emerald-cut blue diamond in the middle. It was exactly the sort of thing Empress Katsuki might wear. He tilted his head to one side and watched the light shift as best he could under the glass. Slightly darker in the center, closer to sapphire than ultramarine.

He could feel the eyes of the sales clerk on him. His polo shirt and jeans were not the kinds of things people who shopped here wore. He looked around at the designer jackets and handbags of the customers around him. Not so very different from what he would see at home at first glance, except for the subtle air of wealth and quality. If he looked closer, the differences in stitching and material would reveal themselves, but for now it was just a general, indescribable air of difference. He noted that, too. His Phantom was, after all, in love with an empress and unlike Akira, was still intimidated by high society.

"You have very expensive tastes," Sae said from behind him.

Akira turned. Sae sported a new pair of earrings: pearls hanging down from diamonds that had been crafted in the shape of flowers. Just enough flash to be elegant, but not enough to be gaudy. "They suit you." He imagined her in a cocktail dress and holding a wine glass, trying not to look bored as the head of the bar association droned on and on about his new yacht. "Something for those fancy lawyer parties." Or state meetings for royalty trying to get out of an arranged marriage. "But why flowers?"

Sae fidgeted a bit and colored slightly. "I like flowers. Mom thought it would be ladylike to learn all the different flower meanings, and I suppose it stuck."

"Floral motifs are very popular this season," the sales clerk chimed in, apparently having decided that Akira wasn't a potential shoplifter. "Mikmoto just released some very similar pieces."

"But these are for evening, right? You would want a necklace to go with it?"

Sae's eyes widened ever so imperceptibly. "I never thought I would see you interested in jewelry. You don't have to pretend to be interested in everything I do."

"As lovely as those look on you," Akira said with a smile, "this is for the book. Getting to see what the royal court would wear up close." He nodded to the necklace behind the case. "Katsuki's, right there."

"Would you like to see it out of the case? Would it be a problem if my friend had a look?" Sae leaned subtly forward and the earrings dangled and glittered. An implied threat that she could always take her business elsewhere. Akira noted the posture for later use.

"I suppose not," the clerk said and brightened. "A book? Perhaps you would mention us in your acknowledgments section?" And just like that, he was handing Akira a necklace that probably cost his entire advance and then some. He noted the weight and the way it seemed brighter out of the glass, how sharp the facets seemed.

He handed back the necklace with a smile and was about to ask Sae if she needed anything else when Akira saw it. A pocketwatch. Gold, with a deep blue background on the watch face and golden hands and Roman numerals. His lips parted. Maybe it was a silly thing to be fascinated by watches when all anyone had to do to tell time was take out their phone, but he couldn't help it. Almost all the prestigious literary prizes gave the winner a pocketwatch along with the cash prize. He looked at the price tag. Seventy thousand yen. Okay, he was saving this one for celebrating the American publisher accepting the manuscript. No need to dip into his savings for something that wasn't an emergency.

"So you do have an interest in jewelry," Sae said lightly when she noticed him looking. And somewhat expensive tastes."

"Guilty as charged." He smiled. "Always told myself I was going to get one of these. It's like an attorney's badge for writer's, except we don't have to report them when they get lost."

There was a feminine screech behind them. "Oh my God, it's the Phantom!"

The woman was about Sae's age or a little older, but with short, dark hair, thick green eyeshadow and ruby red lips. The scent of her perfume almost forced him to take a step back. She smiled at him and Akira was reminded of nothing so much as a very hungry tiger. "Norika Mushai." Her voice was low and husky and...was she batting her eyelashes? "Oh you are so much more strapping than your picture."

Akira stiffened. He would never quite get used to people who felt okay stopping him in a store or on the street because they thought they knew him from what they had read in the paper or on a website. Most of them were easily dazzled by a smile and may be a selfie, but it didn't look like Norika Mushai would be that sort of person. "I'm sorry. I really should get—"

She didn't seem to hear him took a step closer. "I'm your biggest fan. The way you just appeared on TV and called Shido out—you know I never liked him. Why don't I buy you dinner and I can thank you...privately."

Sae tensed and Akira shook his head at her. It wasn't the first time someone had wanted to express their appreciation. A gentle but firm refusal usually did the trick "That's very kind of you, but my friend and I really have to be going."

Norika looked over and seemed to notice Sae for the first time. Her eyes narrowed. "I'm sure she won't mind. Someone as brave and dashing as you deserves a little bit of fun. All that time slaving away at school and not even a hint of female companionship. You must be wasting away." She put a hand on his chest.

Akira froze. As many times as he had dealt with everything from Kamoshida to the groper on the subway, his brain still checked out. This wasn't supposed to be happening to him, not in a public place where Sae wouldn't be so rude as to hold his hand in public. He breathed in and looked at Norika, forcing himself to be clinical. Thirty-five or thereabouts, shorter than him, with a slight build. Not overweight, but not toned either. Not a physical threat, just a woman with no sense of personal space. And a gentleman didn't use force on a lady who wasn't a physical threat. He was not a monster. He was not Shido.

He stepped back so swiftly and suddenly that she almost lost her balance. "Not interested."

Another shocked gasp from the sales clerk. Not for the first time, Akira wondered what it said when groping and blunt rejection of same were considered equally rude. Sae stood perfectly still, only the flash of her eyes betraying her barely suppressed rage. Akira returned to her side. At least it was over now.

Or maybe not. Norika looked from Sae to Akira. "I get it. She's got her hooks into you. Buying you lots of pretty things you can't afford. I saw you looking at watches. I guess everyone's jumping on the compensated dating bandwagon these days." She glared at Sae. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself, preying on a boy barely out of university."

Some deep and howling void opened up within him, and Akira almost imagined that he could see Personas swim before his eyes. Not Arsene or Satanel, nothing so noble as a gentleman thief or an angel rebelling against the heavens. No, what he saw were the parts of himself he had summoned when sheer physical destruction had been required. Kali with her many arms and spinning swords, Cerberus with his teeth and claws. How dare she? How dare she?

And then, just as suddenly, he could see how it looked to the sales clerk, to everyone in the store. The young man who clearly dressed too normally to afford this place telling the attorney with the expensive earrings that she looked lovely in them. They saw her sharp features and height, how she was the opposite of the quiet, delicate flower that was the ideal of womanhood. And they assumed they understood what they saw.

He forced the rage down into a small, cold box deep in his chest where he kept all the other feelings he couldn't act on. Sae was limp and miserable. The sales clerk was gaping openly at the complete and utter shattering of the norms of politeness. Even some of the other customers were starting to stare. He had to do something and quickly. "I would be very careful if I were you," he said in a low voice. "The next person you say that to might have you charged with defamation." He was grimly pleased that Norika's eyes almost popped out of her head.

But Sae still looked sick as they stepped into the courtyard of the Paulowina Mall. Her gaze was distant. "Want to talk about it?" he asked her at last.

"No. Yes. I don't know." She sighed and ran her hands over her face. "After last night and this morning, I almost forgot what people would say. And even then I was selfish enough to only worry what they would say about me."

The polite thing would have been tell her that it didn't bother him, but it did. To have every kiss, every touch, everything they had done last night reduced to a transaction. To have his agency stripped from him, as if he couldn't choose a beautiful and brilliant woman of his own free because she was beautiful and brilliant. He had accepted that Sae had wanted this affair to be temporary because she would be a laughingstock in Tokyo, but this was the first time he had truly understood the social consequences. At least he didn't have to maintain an appearance of absolute integrity to keep his job.

"We know the truth. I'm not some kept man." Some of the anger forced its way out of the little box. "I make more than Ryuji. I was published in the Huffington Post while I was still in school. Granted, they don't pay, but that got me three clients that did. My agent says there's already talk about a manga and a video game!" And then, because a shocked and probably pissed off Sae was better than a miserable one any day of the week, he added, "I have money. About a million yen in a Cook Islands trust. Probably a little more now, if the wealth manager Makoto hired is doing his job."

That got exactly the reaction Akira wanted. Sae stopped walking. Her eyes widened and it seemed to be taking her a great deal of effort not to gape. "What?"

"You don't think we spent all the money we got from the Treasures on fancy dinners, did you? Your sister's pretty responsible, you know. We all have a little money squared away. We're supposed to save it for emergencies."

"What—Makoto—an offshore account? Please, tell me you're joking. You're not, are you? I don't believe this. My little sister has been hiding money away overseas." Akira wasn't sure if she was about to throttle him or double over laughing. Mission accomplished. "I trust you all consulted with a tax attorney."

"Everything is aboveboard and legal, Counselor. I'm thinking of using mine for a down payment on a nicer apartment once everything gets settled down. The one I have now is an insult to sardine cans." He smiled at her and wished they were in a place where he could take her hand and tuck her hair behind her ear. No one has ever made me as happy as you have, and it's only been a day, Akira wanted to say, but didn't "So she had no idea what she was talking about," he said instead. "Coffee? I need to work a little before I hit something. And I'm buying."

Chagall Café didn't hold a candle to Café Le Blanc, but Akira took what he could get in the provinces. Music played softly as baristas in green and white ferried coffee back and forth between couples engaged in low, intense conversation. Perfect. He held Sae's chair for her. "Still like it with just plain cream and sugar?" His own biscotti was a little pricier than his usual order, but a man was entitled to some pride. I am not kept.

Sae forced a shaky smile. "This is working for you? Because it looks like drowning our sorrows with frighteningly large amounts of caffeine."

"I believe in multitasking." Akira opened his bag and took out a notebook and pen. He needed to get the notes from the jewelry store on paper before he forgot. "It's a good place to people watch. Never know when there's a mannerism or something I'll want to steal."

Coffee arrived, and Akira worked for a while in silence. He could feel the anger leaving him as his pen flew across the page. There was power in the creative act, in knowing he held absolute control over the world in his head. In this world at least, there would be justice and the lovers would find a way to be together, no matter how hard the road seemed.

He had just decided that the captain of the royal guard would have a scar on his cheek just like the man at the next table when he realized that Sae was finished with her coffee and staring at him. "What?" He fought the urge to check his teeth.

"Your pen. I've seen it before somewhere."

"Good eye. Or good memory. Toranosuke Yoshida gave me that before I left Tokyo the first time." He smiled at the memory. Any ability to persuade people, he owed to that man. "I tried to keep a little something from everyone, in case something happened before I could come back. So I could remember them."

"I see." Her voice was tentative. "Did you keep anything from me?"

"Of course. You were my friend even back then." He took out his wallet. "In fact, I have it here now." He presented her with the business card she had given him. "From when you told me Shido would be your last case for SIU."

"My card? Not exactly a fountain pen." She took it from him. Her expression was strange, almost sad as she smoothed the crinkles in the paper and fingered frayed edges. "It's not going to last much longer."

"I—I didn't have anything else I could use." There was a lump in his throat; it was a stupid to be upset about. He looked around and dared to cover her hand with his. "We'll find something here." As if I could forget you.

"How's the Persona-hunting going?" Junpei sauntered towards them with his hands in his pockets. "Still think you need to handle this yourselves? Or have you decided to just enjoy your vacation?"

"Why not both?"

Junpei's laugh was warm. "You sound like Minato. One day, we're fighting some weird Shadow that looks like a cross, the next day he was taking Mitsuru out for takoyaki. Normal life and Shadow fighting right there mixed together. And sometimes it got even weirder than that. Like the time we had to fight in the club a few doors down during the Dark Hour. Or finding out that the lady who runs the antiques store could make weapons from the things we found in Tartarus."

"Really?" Akira gripped the edge of the table. Somebody else knew about the Dark Hour? Somebody who wasn't working for the Kirijo Group?

"Oh yeah. See she was involved in some experiments about ten years before the whole Nyx thing... I definitely shouldn't be telling you this." He winked at Akira.

Oh. Oh. Akira fought a smile. "I didn't hear anything."

"Especially not that we recovered her old journals and gave them back to her. Or that her lunch break is over in ten minutes."

"I wonder what changed his mind," Sae said as they approached Shinshadaou Antiques.

"No idea," Akira said. "But I'm not sure I'll like the reason." He wasn't sure which was worse: knowing that he was being manipulated or being desperate enough that he had no choice but to go along.

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he entered the store. Swords, axes, and bows hung in a glass case along the far wall. And he could feel the Personas within them. Dormant, but still powerful, like sleeping lions that only needed to be woken up before they ripped your throat out. Even Sae seemed uneasy. "It's like they're alive," she whispered.

"They are, sort of." That other world, the place where he had been able to make an actual difference, only a pane of glass away.

The back door opened and a single eye peeked out. "Can I help you?" a woman asked.

Sounds more like she needs our help. "Yes, ma'am. I want to talk to Dr. Shinshadao about some documents. And why there are Personas inside these weapons."

"Personas? Did Junpei send you? I knew those offerings at the shrine would pay off." She opened the door. She was sixty or so, slightly stooped, with hair in a severe cut. "I am Dr. Shinshadao. And you must be the Phantom. I need your help."

"My help?"

"It's very shameful." She shook her head. "My nephew is a good man, but he's always been terribly fond of gambling. There's a club and casino not far from here where one can indulge in every sort of vice. Run by Okaba."

"Shuji Okaba?" Sae asked.

"Then you know who he is. My nephew owes him forty million yen, but he can't pay. Now Okaba is coming after me. His thugs have ransacked my shop more than once. The police do nothing, the Kirijo Group does nothing. You're my last hope."

"What exactly do you want me to do?" He'd never heard of this Okaba, but that didn't matter. Another parasite, just like Kaneshiro, preying on the innocent. And just like before, the "proper authorities" shut their eyes. And you want me to trust you to handle things, Mitsuru? Not on your life!

"Steal his heart, of course! That is what you do? Make people stop doing bad things?"

The world seemed to stop. Sae opened her mouth, but Akira heard nothing. A knife on the wall seemed to shimmer in the light. It was long, with a curved, serrated blade. He had carried such a knife once, when he was the Phantom. I was thou. Thou were I, whispered the metal in his mind. I was Satan, when thou couldst wield this power. Straining against an indifferent god.

And you could have this power again, said a more familiar voice. All you have to say is yes.

Akira blinked. Ignore them, like Futaba said. "I'm afraid there's been some misunderstanding. I—"

"Open up, bitch!" Through the glass, Akira saw two beefy delinquents with bleached hair.

Shinshoudo's eyes widened. "Okaba's people. Hide, quickly." And before Akira or Sae could say anything else, she was shoving them in the back room and bolting the door.

"Him again." Sae's lips twisted into a sneer and for the first time in five years, Akira saw something of her Shadow in her. Her fingers curled around a two-handed sword. "I'd like his head on a pike."

"You know this Okaba guy?"

"Loan shark, smuggler, drug kingpin, and occasional trafficker. If Kaneshiro wasn't running a club, then he was." Her eyes were hard. "Most of the hostesses were very young, very foreign, and very in debt to Mr. Okaba, if you take my meaning. And who thought they were going to be working as babysitters."

"Prostitutes." He closed his eyes. Everyone knew that the girls at the hostess clubs often worked off the clock. And every few months, there would be a raid and some poor girls from Thailand or South Korea with rotting teeth would be dragged out. He shivered. Or sometimes it was local girls who couldn't pay their debts. That was what Kaneshiro would have done with Makoto. "But you couldn't prove it."

"Of course."

"Our boss is losing patience," said a rough voice. "Two weeks, no more."

"I don't have that kind of money."

"Pretty pieces like this? I think you do. You used to work for the Kirijos. Get the ice queen to help you." Something smashed. "Next time, it won't be a vase." The door slammed shut.

For the space of ten heartbeats, there was only silence. Then shuffling footsteps, and the door opened. Dr. Shinshoudo's face was pale and drawn. "I'm sorry you had to hear that." Fragments of a porcelain vase lay strewn about the floor. "But you see why I need your help."

Akira stared at the fragments. Just like Kaneshiro. Criminals were like hydra; destroy one and two more filled the gap. Someone else would sell drugs. Someone else would blackmail teenagers. Someone else would try to ruin a public prosecutor because he could. Someone else would... "I can't change his heart. That power was taken from me."

And now you are mortal. Stuck in the muck and the mire. Kamoshida and Shido were just a symptom. The world is sick.

Yes. Yes it was. He could be treated like a commodity, sexually harassed. A woman could be groped in public and it was her fault for bringing drawing too much attention. Another could be all but accused of hiring a prostitute. All while the authorities sat on their ass and did nothing. No, they propped up the rotting edifice so they could keep their skyscrapers and fancy cars. I am the only thing that ever helped.

Yes, good.

The knife seemed to whisper again as blackness swirled around it. Thou canst be me again. Take the blade. He Who Must Not Be Named shalt reveal the portal in due time.

He took a step forward. Why not take the blade? Why not impose justice on the world and give everyone their due? Sae could live like an empress and men like Okaba would suffer as they made others suffer. Wasn't that what the authorities were supposed to be for?

A strong grip encircled his wrist and one fingers stroked his back and neck. "Easy, Akira," Sae murmured, too quietly for Dr. Shinshoudo to hear. "Block it out. I'm here. You don't need what that thing is offering."

No, he didn't. And Sae, Morgana, and everyone else would hate him. He leaned against her, letting the warmth sink in and drive out the chill of the grave that swirled around him. She didn't think he was weak or helpless. Men like Okaba could be brought down in this world of flesh and blood. He could save one life at a time. Including Shinshoudo and her nephew. "Thank you," he whispered. He was dimly aware Shinshoudo was staring at them and decided he didn't much care.

Sae straightened, but kept her hand on his back. "What I don't understand is why the Kirijo Group won't help. You are a former employee and assisted Ms. Kirijo in saving the world."

"Mitsuru isn't helping because she can't," said Junpei from behind him. He bowed to the doctor. "Why don't you get some tea while I get this cleaned up."

"I—yes." But as the doctor passed, Akira heard her whisper, "You promised that you would help," and Junpei flinched.

"What do you mean Mitsuru can't help?" Sae asked. "Why did you send us here? Mementos is no more. No one can steal hearts."

"I kinda hoped the reports were wrong about that part." Junpei retrieved a broom and dust pan from the back room. "Look, the Kirijo Group isn't as strong as it looks, and they have to be careful about who they piss off. Okaba's supposed to stick to drugs and gambling, maybe selling alcohol to minors if he's feeling adventurous. Other people would be upset if they knew he was branching out."

"You mean other yakuza clans," Sae said. "Clearly, he's not keeping his end of the bargain."

"Clearly. But every time he might get caught, the witness goes missing or the evidence gets trashed. And it's always delinquents instead of his own people that do the shakedowns in public. Mitsuru needs proof or Port Island would get caught in a gang war that makes Strega look peaceful. She needs an outsider to get that proof."

"And that's where we come in?"

"And Dr. Shinshoudo would give you the documents. I get my proof; you get your proof. It seemed like a fair deal."

Akira watched as Junpei swept up the shattered porcelain. He could feel a different kind of cold settling on him, the same kind had felt when Morgana had told him what he could do. "You need somebody to get in debt to this guy and wear a wire. Somebody with their own black-market connections so the tech couldn't be traced back to you and is a good enough actor to fool a yakuza boss." He inhaled. "I can do that."

"That…that could work."

Sae crossed her arms, and her eyes narrowed the way they did when she was angry and trying not to show it. "I brought you here to persuade Mitsuru, not so you could get shot." She rounded on Junpei. "How do I know she would do anything?"

"Because…because you can't go back to indifference when you've seen the darkness of the human heart." He closed his eyes. "I can do this. I don't mind the danger."

"Mr. Iori, why don't you check on Dr Shinshoudo and the tea?" Sae's voice was ice. "I'd like to speak to Akira alone."

Uh. oh. Even Junpei seemed to know something was up because he stammered something Akira couldn't hear them beat a hasty retreat.

But when Sae turned around, she didn't look angry. She looked tired. "We tried to get Okaba for a year. I've seen photographs of what he does to people who make him angry," she said quietly. "Their bodies were drained of blood, as if they were cattle. And this time, I won't have any illusion powers that can save you."

"I know." He swallowed. The month between what he thought had been Leviathan's transformation and stealing Shido's heart had been the worst of his life. Never knowing if there would be a knife in the dark, if Goro or some other assassin would find a way to kill him. His nerves had been scraped raw from fear and lack of sleep. "But I'm a good actor. I can become what ever I need for this. Even pretended to be your sister's boyfriend once, to get another lowlife."

Her expression didn't change. "You would need a bankroll to lose enough to pique Okaba's interest. At least one million yen. And I've spent my discretionary funds for the next year."

"One million?" He thought of the money in that distant, secret account. His future, everything that separated him from becoming a starving artist. He would be stuck in that apartment for who-knew-how-much longer. He might have to come crawling back to his mother. And… She's got her hooks into you. Buying you lots of pretty things you could can't afford.

And so Hachiro Sato would die for his pride. And so a monster he could stop would run free. He could still do good, quietly, mundanely. The demon spoke of glory, but the mundane and boringly adult path to victory would require sacrifice. A heist without guns or magic fire or even weapons that glowed and whispered to him.

The presence in his head seemed to falter. Oh, that scares you, doesn't it? Akira thought. All you have is temptation and a few magic tricks. But if I can bring Okaba down, I don't need what you're selling. "I can do that too. It'll take a few days to get the money, but it'll take me that long to plan the infiltration.

Sae's eyes were wide with sudden panic. "Your life savings? No! I absolutely forbid it!"

"I'm saving for an emergency. This is an emergency."

"Don't do this." Her voice was raspy, pleading. "Don't throw away your life for some infatuation. For me. I'm not worth it."

"I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for Hachiro Sato and for Dr. Shinshoudo. I would still do it if you have never kissed me."

"You sound like my father. Or Makoto." She slumped against the wall. "I am so sick of watching people I care about walk into hell when I can't do anything. And yet, it seems I keep sending them there." She closed her eyes, and the room stilled again. "Take me with you."

"What?"

She opened her eyes, and there was no softness or pain in her voice, just the steel of a woman who would do anything to win her case. "I've planned sting operations before. I know how the games will be rigged And the yakuza can be so terribly conventional. A woman losing and begging will be seen as more vulnerable and therefore less suspicious."

Some part of was forced to admit that her points were logical. That didn't help much. She could be killed. Or enslaved. Or something even worse than what a mortal could dream up. "You have Leviathan in your head, and you want to go to a casino?"

"I want to be as far away from one as possible. But maybe…maybe if I can do this, the voices will stop for good." The steel vanished, and she seized his hand. "Please. Makoto faced down Kaneshiro to save my career. After I drove her to it. I just want to do some good. Put things right."

What a pair they were: that thief trying to control his megalomania and the attorney still questing for redemption that she had earned long ago. "All right. A heist it is." He took out his phone. "Futaba? Is that offer still good? I need your help."

He only hoped they would survive to enjoy the rewards.