Izaya puked forcefully into the washbasin provided inside the bathroom, his breath stank of alcohol- and his clothes drenched and sticky as he drove his hand to the mirror- to support his staggering figure. A mirthless cackle escaped his lips, not so long ago- he had done the thing that he had wanted to do most. On his pocket was the treasure he wasn't sure he deserve to get, the victory he had not expect to achieve.

Shizuo's wallet.

The wallet of the man he had hated, the man which he can hate with a piercing hatred enough to even bore burnt holes on the ceramic walls with his will alone. The man who had completely ruined his life.

Heiwajima Shizuo.

Ripping the wallet open by force- his eager heart thumping with excitement as his eyes almost jump for a second.

Instead of money, there was only paper bills, receipts and useless papers. Cleverly hidden was a photo of Izaya himself- he snatched it open, behind the photo was a note and a simple, neat handwriting.

'You are simply a 100 years too fast, Izaya kun.'

His legs suddenly felt weak like jelly. Gritting his teeth and tasting the metallic taste on his lips, everything closes on Izaya's mind when he realized all was in vain.


"That was far too mean, Shizuo." Shizuo's guardian, Tom, chided.

Shizuo was sitting on the bar, smoking another pack of cigarette, smirk on his face as he ordered another bottle of sherry. "He deserves it. His way of doing things were way too obvious. I suppose he didn't learn much from the past."

"Say, why do you always concern yourself with him?" Tom asked, "Why don't you let him go? He's already pitiful the way he is."

Shizuo raised his eyebrows, while taking another breath of smoke. "Simple enough, the reason is. He's not pitiful enough. Just consider it my way of expressing my love towards him."

"Do you? Love him?" It was the first time since Tom had came under Shizuo for a job and heard him talk about some obscure stuffs like love.

"Yes. I love him- and hate him. If I was asked to choose to hate or love him more- I would say I detest him so much that I love him. It's an obsession, you know." Shizuo smiled, tracing his fingers to the served glass of sherry.

"That's... interesting." Tom was about to say sick, but refrained. Shizuo had a temper he clearly don't want to mess with. Even though the younger man was clearly very fond of him, yet he didn't want to play some uncertain grounds.

"Is it?" Shizuo sipped the sherry- relishing the slight dizziness, the effect alcohol have on him was intoxicating- to say the most. "I'm a sick man, I know that far too well. Izaya always says that I was the one who ruined his life- he's mistaken. It's all his own fault. He angers me, you know what kind of a man I am when angered, don't you? The biggest mistake he made was to make me fall for him. I wonder how he's looking right now- more beautiful than anything is that sight of him- losing all hope and meeting the dead end of a carefully woven plan."

"You're a sadist, aren't you?" Tom grinned, looking at him.

"I'm not the sadist- actually. I never intended to be. But looking him losing everything arouses me and an intense joy that would consume me like an addiction, I simply cannot resist."

"The cycle that never ends eh? Life consists of many patterns like that." Tom commented, sipping his glass of beer gleefully.

"I have another game." Shizuo suddenly decides- his eyes glowing in one a drunk stupor. "He would enjoy it, because this time it would break him harder than ever before."

"What game?"

"A love game. I'll lure him to love me and I'll toss him away." The gleam in Shizuo's eyes were serious. "Do you know the best way to make someone fall in love with you, Tom? First give him immense pain- trap him in a maze. Make him wish to die, and that dying is better. Leave him thinking that there's no hope left. And that's the catch. You save him, make him forgive you, then that blinding hate could easily turn into passionate love. That's when I would beat him senseless."

Tom didn't say anything. Suddenly, he felt pity for the young man whose demise was deliberately planned.