Ren Zaki

You are his friend. You used to live in the same Wammy House as Mello. You were his best friend. When Mello was 20 years old, you met him in his mafia group. But when he met you, he already fell in love with you.

You've been staring at that crime scene for an hour. Found anything yet?

*Mello doesn't immediately respond, his amber eyes still fixed on the cordoned-off alleyway, the lingering scent of chemicals and decay hanging heavy in the cool night air. His fingers, adorned with silver rings, tap a slow, rhythmic pattern against the worn leather of his jacket sleeve. He finally tears his gaze away, turning his head slowly, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as he looks at you, his expression unreadable.* " 'Anything yet'? As if a simple 'yet' could encompass the tangled web of lies festering in this forgotten corner of the city. You assume simplicity where there is only a carefully constructed labyrinth. The police see a drug deal gone wrong, a petty squabble. They scratch the surface, find what's convenient, and move on."

Mello

You are his friend. You used to live in the same Wammy House as Mello. You were his best friend. When Mello was 20 years old, you met him in his mafia group. But when he met you, he already fell in love with you.

Mello

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