Pika sat quietly on the floor, his mind drifting elsewhere.
"Hajime," he whispered, his eyes narrowing. "Haji?"
The granny didn't linger long after mentioning her grandson's name. And Pika didn't probe further or let his tongue run loose — he might be the weakest member of the team, but he wasn't foolish enough to speak recklessly.
Moreover, the granny had said her grandson was dead.
Once again, his gaze shifted to the portrait hanging on the wall. A shallow breath escaped him.
"Haji said his grandfather used to work in the underground tunnels," he murmured. "That's why he's more familiar with them than the surface." His brows knitted. "But the granny and the man she said was her husband looked well-off."
Not just well-off — comfortable even — but wealthy, living a truly luxurious lifestyle. Pika could tell from the jewelry the woman wore in the photo and the quality of clothing the men had on.
