At any other point during the week, I would probably stop and think for a moment. If it were daytime, or if I were going full throttle at work, I’d be way more clear-headed than I am now. I wouldn’t be under the influence of sangria, peach Schnapps, loud dance music, that foggy dry ice that makes me cough, or my own adrenalin, and I’d be sharp enough to ask questions: “Are you sure this chick is my sister? Which sister? Maybe you have me confused with another woman of colour. Are you a murderer? Are you sure? Hey, insert-co-worker’s-name, can you come with me and this rando to make sure I’m not about to get murdered?” and a list of other things to make sure I’m not being led to a black van full of government ninjas who kidnap foreigners. That I’m not about to end up in another situation that makes me (and everyone else I know) question my sanity.

But nope, I don’t ask any of those things. Instead, I follow him to the elevator and punch the button for the ground floor.

“I cannot believe this is happening again,” I mutter. “Everyone swore Bully was doing great — especially her! She’s been saying for years that she’d never do something this stupid again. Well, I don’t know about stupid … she has this whole taste-for-adventure thing and it got her a husband, so I guess I shouldn’t talk. How the hell did she find me all the way out here in Kobe? It’s not like she’s psychic. This is so weird. Please tell me I’m dreaming.”

The salaryman doesn’t say anything.

“Okay … that doesn’t help. How about this: if you’re not going to murder me, say and do absolutely nothing.”

No reply.

“Well, at least we’ve cleared that up.” Strangely, I don’t feel the least bit worried. If he tries anything, I’ll just use the power of peach liqueur to punch him and make a run for it.

Outside Bar Iznt the street is completely empty. I look down at the ground and see wet pavement. Bars and restaurants down the way are still open, fluorescent lights glaring, storefront music playing. The sound of enka mingles with Shakira’s “Loca” playing upstairs. I look up and down the street for signs of life, let alone someone who looks like me. Not a single person in either direction for miles. It must have just rained. That would explain why there are fewer people than normal, but for Sannomiya to be completely barren is still odd.

“Okay …” I begin. “Is this the part where you kill me?”