Jean-Luc may be the coolest guy I ever created. Kinda like Jigen on antidepressant.

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Outside, the air was crisp. The chill of the night hadn't yet dissipated.

Jigen wasn't dressed warmly enough to be out at this hour. The jacket he'd grabbed was too thin, and with the bottle he was carrying, he looked like a drunk.

But better to look like a drunk than a thief.

His mind was on the men they'd encountered before reaching the museum—the ones Fujiko was working with. Despite the less-than-impressive performance of Jacques and the two snipers, Jigen had a feeling this wasn't just about a couple of amateurs with rifles on a rooftop. The men they'd tied up—who were surely free by now—had good equipment. Not the kind you handed to incompetents. These guys were too well-organized to be simple amateurs—Jacques being the exception. And the only reason they'd managed to take out the snipers was because they'd caught them by surprise.

Something else had stood out to him. The three men all wore the same insignia on their jackets. It had to be an organized group.

That's why Jigen was heading to a bar-café at eight in the morning, hoping to find one of his old contacts.

Jean-Luc was a legend in Paris's underworld, an old-timer who was both feared and respected. Anyone in the business knew his name. Jean-Luc had connections everywhere, from high-ranking officials to the biggest underground organizations, mercenaries, and front companies. He knew everything happening in the city's shadows. His ears were in places most people didn't dare to go.

If anyone could tell him what that insignia meant, it was him.

The streets of Paris had come back to life, but it was still too early for anyone to have heard about the ruby theft at the Louvre. Jigen arrived in front of an unassuming bar, nestled in a modest side street. He pulled his hat down a little lower, mentally preparing himself for the encounter.

Jean-Luc wasn't someone you dealt with casually. He didn't give anything away for free, and his time was valuable. He was a big name in the French underworld community, and a long-time friend.

Fortunately, Jigen had come prepared. Along with the bottle—which Jean-Luc would appreciate as a bonus—Jigen had swiped a trinket from the hideout, a diamond whose name he hadn't bothered to remember. Lupin wouldn't miss it. He'd probably planned to give it to Fujiko anyway.

That and the bottle should be enough to buy the answers he needed.

The bar where he would meet Jean-Luc was an understated establishment. From the outside, it looked like nothing special, but it was actually a crossroads for those who worked in the shadows. Criminals, spies, and crooked cops all conducted business there in perfect discretion. Jean-Luc had his own corner, from which he ruled the room like a king.

The bar was dimly lit, and the air carried the thick scent of tobacco and alcohol. This early on, it was almost empty—denizens of the underworld weren't exactly early risers. Jigen strode across the room with confidence, his leather shoes clicking against the worn floorboards.

There, in a secluded corner, sat Jean-Luc. His broad silhouette was wrapped in a long wool coat, and half his face was hidden behind a yellowed beard that had seen far too many cigarettes and far too much alcohol. He held a pint in one hand.

"Jigen…" Jean-Luc raised his glass at the gunman's arrival, a faint smile curling his thin lips. "Been a while."

Jigen nodded, taking a seat and placing the bottle of wine and the diamond on the table. "Jean-Luc. I've got an offer for you."

Jean-Luc's eyes flicked downward, his smile widening. He picked up the bottle, turning it over in his hand briefly before setting it aside. A low grunt of approval let Jigen know the gift was appreciated.

Next, he took the diamond between his fingers, rolling it skillfully as if weighing its worth. "The Eye of Tomagoa," he said with a touch of admiration. "Pretty little gem. Lupin isn't attached to things like this?"

Jigen remained stoic. "He won't even notice it's gone."

Jean-Luc nodded slowly, satisfied. "Alright then. What do you want to know, Jigen?"

The gunman slid the piece of paper with the drawn insignia across the table, revealing one sharp eye beneath the brim of his hat.

"Men wearing this emblem are following us. Ring any bells? I want to know who they belong to and what they're up to."

Jean-Luc fell silent, rolling the diamond between his fingers. After taking a swig of his pint with his free hand, he leaned in slightly toward Jigen.

"Those guys… you're dealing with some serious players, Jigen. The emblem you saw belongs to the Black Dawn. A private organization, specialized in dirty contracts and covert missions. Mercenaries—but with some very high-up connections. They recently moved their HQ to Italy, but they have small safehouses scattered all over. Mostly used for interrogations and taking in prisoners."

"Why are they after the Heart of Napoleon?"

"Not for the money. It's a contract. The ruby isn't just a pretty gem. It's a key to something much bigger, from what I've heard. But that's about all I know."

Jigen squinted beneath the shadow of his hat. His informant was merely confirming what Lupin had already suggested.

"A contract, you say?"

Jigen watched Jean-Luc closely, studying every reaction. The man wasn't lying—at least not outright. Not with payment like this on the table. The Black Dawn… Looks like Fujiko had gotten herself tangled in something far more complex than it seemed.

"These guys..." Jigen continued, his tone low. "Any idea who hired them?"

The diamond stopped spinning between Jean-Luc's fingers. His smile grew tight. The silence stretched too long to be mere hesitation. Eventually, he made his decision. His gaze dropped to the bottle, and his hand curled around the Eye of Tomagoa.

"I like you, Jigen. But even I don't have the clearance to talk about this…"

Jigen's hopes faltered, though he kept his posture steady. Jean-Luc avoided his gaze, but he hadn't shut down the conversation entirely. The gunman dared not move, worried he might shatter the strange, tense silence hanging between them.

Suddenly, Jean-Luc made up his mind. He downed his pint in one go and slammed it on the table with a heavy thud. After scanning the room to ensure no one was listening, he leaned even closer to Jigen, who mirrored him. The two looked like conspirators huddling over a shared secret.

"The Black Dawn never moves without a hefty paycheck. This time, they've been hired by a really big group. But I can't… I shouldn't…"

Jean-Luc sank back into his seat, clearly lost in thought. Jigen kept his expression calm, even as the final pieces of the puzzle began to snap into place. Lupin had said many thought the Heart would lead to Napoleon's war treasure. Then it had to be either a government or a monarchy pulling the strings.

Suddenly, his informant leaned forward again, grabbed the bottle, and handed it back to him with a sly smile.

"Take it back, Jigen. No tip for a man who can't give you proper info, right?"

Jigen raised an eyebrow. Jean-Luc refusing a bottle? That was a first. But it didn't take long for him to realize the man's true intent. Wedged discreetly between the Frenchman's fingers and the bottle was the piece of paper where Jigen had scribbled the emblem.

The gunman accepted the bottle with care, making sure not to let the paper fall. In this bar, the walls didn't just have ears—they had eyes too. Jean-Luc was taking an enormous risk in the name of friendship. Jigen would have to repay the favor someday.

Sliding the paper into his pocket as he set the bottle aside, Jigen gave Jean-Luc a subtle nod of gratitude.

He took a moment to finish his cigarette. He already knew this Heart thing was risky, but now it was clear they'd stumbled into something far more dangerous than expected. He didn't linger with Jean-Luc. He stood up and stubbed his cigarette out in the nearest ashtray.

"Thanks, Jean-Luc."

Jean-Luc gave him a sly wink. "Always a pleasure, Jigen. Stay sharp out there. And don't die."

Jigen allowed one of his rare smiles to cross his face and tipped his hat to his old friend before stepping back into the now livelier streets of Paris.

With a bottle tucked under his arm, his hands in his pockets, and a fresh cigarette dangling from his lips, Jigen could've passed for a true Parisian. But his mind was far from relaxed. He replayed Jean-Luc's information in his head, each word leaving a bitter taste.

Jigen had heard of the Black Dawn before. Ruthless mercenaries without morals, cold-blooded killers who left no room for error for anyone standing in their way. And now, they had their sights set on Lupin's crew.

As he strolled through a quieter street, his finely tuned instincts picked up on a flicker of movement at the edge of his peripheral vision. An ominous stalker, quick and elusive. He was being followed.

If Jigen hadn't spent his entire life watching his back, he might not have noticed it. His steps slowed imperceptibly, but he kept walking as if nothing was amiss. He didn't look back. This man was far from the amateur antics of Jacques.

Discreetly, Jigen scanned his surroundings. In this part of Paris, the alleys were quiet, which worked both for and against him. His pursuer's movements were subtle—this guy knew what he was doing. There was no doubt Jigen had been followed for a while. The other man was probably waiting for Jigen to lead him straight to Lupin. Ha. Fool.

Jigen continued on his way without rushing, barely adjusting his route so the tail wouldn't suspect he'd been spotted. He walked well past the safehouse, veering slightly into another neighborhood. He chose a quiet area, where random pedestrians wouldn't disturb them. Once he judged he'd gone far enough, he turned into an alley, stopped in front of a random door, set the bottle down so it wouldn't get in his way, and pretended to search for his keys.

Of course, Jigen didn't have the keys to this random building. But it didn't matter. He just needed to make it look convincing.

He didn't have to wait long. Barely a moment had passed before his pursuer entered the alley too. The man's footsteps were loud against the ground, the narrowness of the alley amplifying the sound. It was a deliberate choice, meant to ensure Jigen heard him. The figure appeared at the entrance, hidden under a large cloak.

Jigen's fingers had barely brushed the grip of his magnum before he had already drawn the gun and fired. Unfortunately, the bullet ricocheted with a metallic clang. His opponent had blocked the shot with his arm. Something metallic was strapped to the man's wrist—a circle as large as his forearm. Some kind of shield?

It wasn't a gun or a sword. The device looked like an original invention. From where he stood, it was impossible to get a better look. Confronted with an unknown threat, Jigen held back from firing again.

His pursuer stepped closer, and Jigen finally got a clearer view of the man. He was much larger than he'd initially thought. He was taller than him, with long, straight ash-brown hair escaping from his hood and broad shoulders. He was dressed in black, and his weapon gleamed at his wrist.

He stayed at a safe distance, and Jigen forced himself to remain calm, keeping his magnum raised as a deterrent.

"Who are you?"

The man revealed just enough of his face to show piercing, icy eyes and a chilling smile.

"I am Zorin, the leader of the Black Dawn," he said, his deep voice calm and deliberate. "And you're Lupin's little dog."

Jigen didn't rise to the insult. He was used to such barbs—and, truth be told, it wasn't entirely inaccurate. Still, the words stung somewhere deep inside. Zorin's insinuation that Lupin had servants grated on him. He felt a brief urge to snap back, to point out that Lupin didn't keep lackeys, that he wasn't that kind of man. But he refrained. Better to let Zorin talk. He seemed eager to lay out his grand plan anyway.

"You and your master have disrupted our plans," Zorin continued. "It's clear that Lupin knows the secret of the ruby."

"A secret?"

"The Heart leads to Napoleon's war treasure, we already know that. I want Lupin to hand over the ruby."

"You really think we're just going to be scared into giving it up? Not too bright for the leader of the Black Dawn mercenaries, are you?"

The man hadn't attacked yet, and Jigen still had no idea what this bizarre weapon could do. It was a strange contraption, somewhere between a blade and a rotating metal shield. The way it reflected light seemed almost unnatural. Worse, the man's calm confidence suggested he had a few tricks up his sleeve, which was always a bad sign.

Zorin stepped forward again, still not attacking. "I'll ask you one more time: surrender immediately and hand over the Heart," he said. "Otherwise, I'll be forced to kill you all."

Enough of this. This conversation was going nowhere.

Jigen tightened his grip on his magnum, ready to act. But, inexplicably, something held him back. A heavy, invisible force seemed to press on him, freezing him on the spot.

"Bastard, we'll never… uh…"

Jigen's gaze locked onto the weapon-shield against his will. His words trailed off into the void. The strange device was so peculiar, so mesmerizing, that it seemed to pull at his focus.

Zorin's figure began to blur at the edges, like a silhouette viewed too long against the light. And when he spoke again, his words sounded distant, muffled, as though carried through a fog that was steadily creeping into Jigen's mind. The man's smile stretched unnaturally, seeming to go beyond the edges of his face.

The way the shield caught and refracted light was unsettlingly compelling.

"I… what… Heart…"

Jigen's arm felt weak, the magnum suddenly too heavy to hold. It dipped on its own. He struggled to focus, but his thoughts grew even more clouded. Zorin's words dissolved into an incomprehensible murmur.

Then, suddenly, a sharp crack in the air. The clear, precise sound of a blade slicing through the atmosphere. Metal clashing against metal. In an instant, the hypnotic haze shattered. Standing before Jigen was a familiar figure, tall and composed. Goemon. He had stepped between Jigen and Zorin. He said nothing except a curt, almost haughty "Hmf" aimed at their enemy.

Zorin took a step back, visibly startled by Goemon's sudden appearance, though his expression quickly settled back into a mask of calm.

Goemon, ever the professional, gave the man no time to react and assumed a ready stance.

"Jigen," he said without turning around. His voice was calm but carried an unmistakable authority. "This man does not seem to have good intentions. Am I wrong?"

Jigen, still shaken, found his clarity returning almost immediately after Goemon's intervention. He shook his head as if shaking off the remnants of the trance. His magnum was once again firm in his grip, and confusion quickly gave way to anger. He didn't know exactly what had caused his reaction, but a nagging fear told him that something had been manipulating his mind.

"Ah, the famed legendary swordsman, Goemon Ishikawa XIII…" Zorin began. "A step up from that scruffy dog of a gunman."

Goemon's brows furrowed. His stance lowered ever so slightly, and his posture turned as sharp as his weapon. The light reflecting off his blade momentarily blinded Zorin—a gesture no one could mistake for accidental. Goemon had far less patience than Jigen when it came to insults against the gunman.

"You must be truly ignorant to think you can insult my friends in front of me without suffering any consequences," Goemon said, his voice icy.

Zorin raised his hands in a placating gesture, his weapon disappearing back into the folds of his coat.

"Calm down, I meant no offense,"

His eyes gleamed as they focused on the swordsman. He looked a bit starstruck, gazing at a living legend. Jigen thought this guy had some fucking nerve. Goemon remained perfectly still, his focus unwavering.

"I only came to retrieve the Heart. But…" Zorin tilted his head slightly, his smile fading as his raised hands slowly began to lower. "I suppose you won't be handing it over willingly, am I wrong?"

He mimicked Goemon's earlier tone with uncanny precision, his imitation clearly meant to provoke.

"Tch!" Frustration boiled over in Jigen, who bit down so hard on his cigarette that it snapped in two. He pulled out his magnum and began loading bullets with a vengeance, each click of a cartridge landing with exaggerated force, as though the bullets themselves had offended him.

Goemon didn't move a muscle, but he was already poised to strike. Zorin's expression shifted as he realized he was outmatched. The smug smile on his lips finally began to morph into a grimace.

"Hm... I see you're not going to change your minds. It looks like I'll have to even the odds."

He snapped his fingers, and the sound of footsteps echoed from all directions. Figures emerged from every corner, all dressed in black, each armed and moving with well-trained precision.

Goemon remained unfazed, his sharp gaze fixed on the man with the shield, ready to strike at the slightest opening. His grip on Zantetsuken tightened, his muscles taut and perfectly controlled. He never backed down from a fight, no matter how many opponents stood before him.

Zorin deigned to insult them one last time before vanishing into the crowd.

"We will find a way to take that ruby from you. And you'll regret not accepting my peaceful offer."

Jigen fired, but Zorin slipped away behind his men, evading the shot with ease. The gunshot was the cue the others had been waiting for, and the assailants charged all at once.

Jigen and Goemon had been fighting together for so long they no longer needed words to communicate. Their synergy was seamless, like two gears in a perfectly oiled machine. Jigen instinctively knew exactly how the samurai moved and which enemies were beyond his reach, while Goemon could sense attackers Jigen hadn't yet spotted and eliminate them before they became a threat. Each man expertly covered the other's blind spots.

Jigen's magnum worked with surgical precision. Bullets sliced through the air, striking foes in their weak spots and mens on rooftops. Some dropped before they even had the chance to raise their weapons.

Likewise, Zantetsuken gleamed with deadly brilliance in the dim alleyway, serving its master with implacable precision. The blade cut through the air with devastating accuracy, dispersing attackers left and right and sending them flying back into the shadows. Goemon's movements were as graceful as a dancer's, something that Jigen couldn't help but admire—at least when he wasn't busy fighting himself.

Jigen felt the thud of an enemy collapsing behind him, courtesy of Goemon, and returned the favor by shooting an assailant aiming at the samurai from a nearby window. A stray bullet shattered the bottle of wine Jigen had left on the ledge, the glass exploding in a spray of liquid.

The chaos began to thin out. No army could stand against the combined force of these two. The remaining henchmen soon realized this, and despite their numbers and training, decided it was best to retreat. Their mission was complete—they had delayed Lupin's companions long enough for their leader to escape. They left behind their dead without any remorse.

Goemon slid his sword back into its scabbard with one hand, the motion so fluid and elegant that Jigen almost forgot he'd just wiped the blade clean on the pants of one of the fallen Black Dawn.

"Their leader escaped," Goemon stated firmly.

"Yeah, he bolted," Jigen replied, his frustration evident. He lit a cigarette and had to work his way around it for the rest of his sentence. "Bastard knew he couldn't take us in a fair fight."

"I can still track him," Goemon said, his gaze scanning the rooftops.

"No point," Jigen exhaled, the smoke leaving his lips in a thin stream. "He's too far ahead, and he's a pro. You won't find him. Let's head back before the cops show up."

Police sirens were already wailing in the distance, growing louder by the second. Goemon nodded silently and followed Jigen. They slipped out of the alleyway, leaving behind the motionless bodies of the Black Dawn's men. The neighborhood would soon be swarming with law enforcement, and the last thing they wanted was a run-in with Zenigata or his colleagues tonight.