Hiratsuka Shizuka's excited and crisis-unaware questioning was like an ignorant child tapping on a sleeping giant's scales. Her eyes sparkled with the thrill of discovery, completely unaware she was prying open a Pandora's Box of darkness.
"I want to know, of course I want to know!" she almost jumped, leaning closer to Kanjuro, her eyes shining brightly. "It seems something incredible must have happened in that underground club eight years ago! Tell me quickly! And you, did you end up carrying Teacher Kitami out of that burning basement?" Her tone even held a hint of romantic fantasy about a 'hero saving the beauty' scenario.
Kanjuro watched her like this, the sinister smile on his lips deepening, but his eyes were pools of icy abyss. He softly uttered a few words, his voice low and eerie:
"You're about to find out."
The moment the words fell, the excited expression on Hiratsuka Shizuka's face froze.
She felt the surrounding light twist and stretch violently—the rooftop railing, the orange-red sky, Kanjuro's figure... everything spun and blurred like paint thrown into a whirlpool! A strong sense of weightlessness and dizziness seized her, as if her soul were ripped from her body and thrown into a bizarre, colorful tunnel.
No sound, no touch, only consciousness tumbling in an endless stream of chaotic colors.
The process seemed extremely long, yet felt like an instant.
When the nauseating distortion suddenly vanished, Hiratsuka Shizuka snapped back to reality, her heart pounding as if to leap from her chest. She instinctively grabbed something nearby to steady herself, gasping for breath, looking around in shock.
The familiar smell of wooden equipment filled her nose, surrounded by neatly arranged vaulting horses, mats, and some balls. Posters of athletic silhouettes adorned the walls. This was... the school's sports equipment room? This afternoon was gym class, and with the lesson not yet started, the equipment room was empty, only sunlight streaming through high windows forming beams in the dusty air.
How did she get here? She was just on the rooftop a moment ago!
Immense confusion and a belated fear instantly overwhelmed her. She turned sharply to look at the equipment room door.
Kanjuro leaned lazily against the doorframe, as if he had always been there. He casually, with a soft "click," closed the equipment room door. The not-loud sound of the lock engaging echoed like thunder in the silent room, striking heavily on Hiratsuka Shizuka's heart.
He slowly turned to face Hiratsuka Shizuka, still wearing that unsettling sinister smile, but his eyes were like a predator's fixed on prey, filled with undisguised aggression and a... fascination as if observing an experiment's reaction.
"Now," Kanjuro's voice echoed in the empty equipment room, with a hint of reverb making it even more eerie, "there's no one else here. Didn't you want to know the answer?"
Hiratsuka Shizuka instinctively stepped back, her back hitting a cold metal equipment rack, with nowhere to retreat. She watched Kanjuro step closer, finally clearly realizing—how naive and dangerous her so-called 'investigation' and 'curiosity' were in the face of this man's absolutely abnormal power. She seemed... to have truly opened a box she shouldn't have.
"You... what did you just do? How did I get here?" Her voice trembled uncontrollably.
Kanjuro didn't answer her question, merely standing still before her, looking down at her with a gaze that swept over her fear-paled face like a physical touch.
"The answer from eight years ago, Kitami's answer, and the answer to my 'ability'..." he said slowly, extending his hand, fingertips nearly touching Hiratsuka Shizuka's cheek, making her flinch back abruptly. "Sometimes, knowing the truth comes with a price."
"And you, Shizuka," his smile turned cruel and playful, "are you ready to pay the price?" "What price?" Hiratsuka Shizuka's voice held a barely perceptible tremor, yet she persisted, the ominous feeling in her heart growing stronger.
Kanjuro watched her forced composure as if seeing an amusing toy, the curve of his lips carrying a cruel playfulness. "Of course, using your body as the price." His voice was calm, yet like ice laced with poison, piercing Hiratsuka Shizuka's eardrums sharply. "Kitami told you many times, don't get close to me, stay away from me. Why... did you have to provoke me?"
His words were like a final verdict. The moment his voice fell, Hiratsuka Shizuka didn't even see how he moved, only feeling an invisible force binding her. The buttons of her uniform seemed undone by invisible fingers, the fabric rustling faintly, followed by the almost inaudible sound of clothes slipping off her shoulders and falling onto the dust-covered floor.
Immediately after, a vast and bizarre mental force violently invaded her consciousness. Hiratsuka Shizuka felt her thoughts thrown into a blender, everything before her eyes twisting and spinning. The scene of the sports equipment room peeled away and dissipated like a faded oil painting... She fell into a long, vivid dream.
In the dream, time seemed to flow backward, then forward. She saw her young mother, gentle and beautiful, with a man standing beside her—it was unmistakably Kanjuro! They looked so perfect together, like a flawless pair.
The dream sped forward like a movie on fast-forward. She "experienced" a completely different life—a fulfilling life with a complete family, growing up cherished by her parents. In the dream, the man she called "father" always had Kanjuro's young, handsome, gentle face. He accompanied her as she toddled, taught her to read and write, comforted her when she was wronged... The happiness in the dream felt so real, so intense, it almost drowned her.
When she was abruptly pulled from this long, blissful illusion and opened her eyes, the coldness of reality instantly enveloped her.
Immense shock and an indescribable sense of emptiness seized her.
She jerked her head up, looking at Kanjuro, who was facing away, leisurely adjusting his attire. That back—tall, young, handsome—was so similar to the image of the "gentle father" in her dream, yet now appeared so monstrous and terrifying.
"Was... it a dream?"
She murmured to herself, her voice dry and hoarse, still carrying a trace of post-nightmare daze. How she wished that long, happy life were reality, and all this before her just a nightmare.
As if hearing her whisper, Kanjuro slowly turned around, his face expressionless, his eyes chillingly calm.
Hiratsuka Shizuka mustered all her strength to shout, her voice choked with tears: "Kanjuro! You stop right there!! You... what did you do to me?!"
Kanjuro paused, looking coldly at her breakdown, and sneered: "You clearly know what I did." His tone was flat, without a hint of remorse, as if stating the simplest fact.
Hiratsuka Shizuka seemed drained of all strength, her head drooping in defeat, tears dripping onto the cold floor.
She felt a deeper fear and confusion. "Why... why do I have no perception... it feels like watching someone else's story..." She had no memory of the process, only the illusion of the dream and the cruel aftermath upon waking.
Hearing this, Kanjuro finally showed a smile that could be called "pleased," filled with the malice of total control.
"Because at that time, you were dreaming." He announced the twisted truth lightly, as if merely toying with an interesting clock. "You had a long life dream," he paused, his gaze falling on her pale face, enunciating each word clearly, "In the dream, I was your father."
The words "father" were like a final hammer blow, completely shattering all of Hiratsuka Shizuka's hopes and psychological defenses.
She jerked her head up, pupils constricting, staring at Kanjuro in disbelief, her entire body feeling as if plunged into an ice cave. It wasn't just physical violation, but the most malicious, thorough trampling and distortion of ethics, memory, and self-perception.
Kanjuro admired the expression of utter collapse on her face, as if appreciating the final effect of a perfect work of art. He said nothing more, merely turned with that bone-chilling smile, pulling open the sports equipment room door without a backward glance. Sunlight flooded in again, but couldn't illuminate the darkness that had completely engulfed Hiratsuka Shizuka's eyes.
The door closed gently. After the nightmare in the sports equipment room, Hiratsuka Shizuka seemed completely changed. She was no longer the lively, somewhat boyishly straightforward girl; her eyes were always shadowed by an undispellable gloom and fear. In the classroom, she shrank into her seat as much as possible, avoiding any unnecessary contact with Kanjuro. Even eye contact made her feel a physical discomfort.
Yet, Kanjuro acted as if nothing had happened. He remained as calm and detached as ever, occasionally calling her in a natural, intimate tone only the two could hear:
"Shizuka, lend me your notes."
"Shizuka, where did the teacher just get to?"
Every time she heard this address, Hiratsuka Shizuka's body would stiffen almost imperceptibly. That voice overlapped faintly with the caring tone of the "gentle father" in her dream, bringing a soul-tearing nausea and fear. She didn't dare respond, only kept her head bowed low, nails digging deep into her palms, using pain to suppress the scream and questions almost bursting from her throat. She watched him chatting and laughing with classmates around him—that handsome, harmless face, in her eyes, was more monstrous than any creature...
When the school bell rang, Hiratsuka Shizuka almost fled the classroom, desperate to return to the home that offered temporary respite. She pushed open the door forcefully, habitually calling out: "I'm home!"
However, her movements to change shoes in the entryway froze completely the moment she saw the living room scene.
Under the warm living room lights, her mother, Hiratsuka Yumi, sat on the sofa. And right beside her, sitting close, was the source of her fear and hatred—Kanjuro!
Kanjuro's arm was draped naturally and intimately around Hiratsuka Yumi's shoulders! And her mother showed not the slightest resistance; instead, she wore an expression Hiratsuka Shizuka had never seen before—a mix of dependence and docility—nestled against Kanjuro's side as if this were the most normal sight.
Hearing the noise at the door, both turned their heads simultaneously.
Kanjuro wore a flawless, gentle smile, looking at Hiratsuka Shizuka frozen in the entryway, her face deathly pale. In a tone as if she truly were a beloved junior, he said lightly:
"Shizuka's back."
These words struck like thunder, exploding again in Hiratsuka Shizuka's mind. How similar to the tone of the "father" in her dream! And this scene before her—Kanjuro holding her mother, appearing in her home with the air of a master—utterly shattered her last refuge.
Hiratsuka Yumi also smiled gently, beckoning: "Shizuka, come over quickly. Mr. Kanjuro specially came to visit us today."
"Mr."... that address now sounded so jarring and absurd.
Hiratsuka Shizuka felt all the blood in her body turn cold. She looked into Kanjuro's smiling eyes, the depths of which held undisguised control and mockery. He wasn't just distorting her past, altering her memories; now, he was directly invading her reality, turning the family she relied on for survival into part of his evil game!
He was telling her in this way that she had nowhere to escape. Whether at school or at home, she was forever trapped in the dark web he had woven.
Hiratsuka Shizuka stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. A sense of immense absurdity and bone-deep chill almost suffocated her. Home, this place that originally represented safety and warmth, had now become another, more refined, inescapable cage. And that smiling demon sat in her living room, holding her mother, declaring his absolute dominion in the most "gentle" way.
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