Listening to her mother's completely sunken, twisted confession, Yukino felt a surge of absurd rage rush to her head. She looked at Yukinoshita Yukino's face, still beautiful but filled with the hollow satisfaction of being tamed, her voice trembling with extreme disappointment and disbelief:
"Love? You call this love?! He destroyed the Yukinoshita Family! He killed Uncle, killed so many people! He did those things to you! And now you tell me you love him?! Just how much do you love him?! Enough to ignore all of this?!"
Facing her daughter's questioning, Yukinoshita Yukino showed no guilt; instead, a nearly pious, pathological smile of infatuation appeared on her face. She gently stroked a non-existent ring on her ring finger, her gaze wandering:
"You don't understand, Yukino. My feelings for Kanjuro... are deep within my bones. It's not something that can be summarized by simple love or hate. It's... a dependence and belonging branded into my soul." Her tone carried a hair-raising calm, "As long as I can be with him, look at him, and feel his presence... I am very happy, very happy. As for the rest... how many people were killed, what was destroyed... that's not important."
"Not important?!" Yukino almost sneered, but Kanjuro's handsome, bewitching face involuntarily appeared in her mind, along with the occasional false gentleness he showed that was enough to make one lower their guard. She had to admit that Kanjuro himself possessed a fatal, magnetic charm that transcended good and evil. But that was no excuse for forgiving crimes!
She forced herself to calm down and asked the most crucial question, her voice carrying a hint of fear she hadn't noticed:
"So... I, Yukinoshita Yukino, am also Kanjuro's... child?"
"Yes." Yukinoshita Yukino affirmed without hesitation, her eyes even carrying a hint of encouragement as she looked at Yukino, "You are his daughter, flowing with his most noble bloodline. So, Yukino, don't try to go against your father anymore. Obey Him, and you will receive everything."
"Receive everything? Including a 'happiness' like the Hikitani family's?" Yukino countered sharply, staring at her mother and asking the question that felt like a bone stuck in her throat: "What if... if he has 'thoughts' about me like he did for you, or Mrs. Hikitani? As my mother, would you not stop him?"
Yukinoshita Yukino's expression didn't change; she even tilted her head slightly as if Yukino had asked a redundant question.
"No." Her answer was nonchalant, yet it pierced Yukino's heart like an icicle, "Why would I stop him? To be chosen by Kanjuro is your honor."
"Why?!" Yukino finally couldn't help but roar in a low voice.
Yukinoshita Yukino looked at her, her eyes shining with pure, unquestionable faith, saying word for word:
"Because in my eyes, Kanjuro... is better than everything in the world. His will is the highest criterion."
"Unreasonable!!" Yukinoshita Yukino squeezed these words through her teeth, unable to bear the suffocating atmosphere and her mother's completely twisted values any longer. She turned abruptly, not giving Yukinoshita Yukino another look, and rushed out of the study, slamming the door. The loud sound echoed in the empty Mansion, like a clarion call of her break with this twisted family.
Inside the study, silence fell once more.
After a long time, a tall figure slowly stepped out from the shadows. Kanjuro, with his signature gentle and profound smile, walked to Yukinoshita Yukino's side and gently put his arm around her shoulder.
"It seems... our daughter's moral compass is quite high." His tone carried a hint of playful teasing, as if evaluating an interesting piece of art.
Yukinoshita Yukino leaned into his embrace, her face returning to that of total dependence, and she chuckled: "What? Are you planning some mischief again?"
Kanjuro's smile deepened, a dangerous and excited light flashing in his eyes as he whispered: "I was just thinking... letting her experience for herself everything you went through back then... what do you think of that idea?"
Yukinoshita Yukino's body stiffened almost imperceptibly. She looked up, and for the first time, a look of near-pleading appeared in her eyes: "Are you crazy? Kanjuro! You can't do that! She's your daughter!"
"There is always sunshine after the rain," Kanjuro's tone remained gentle but carried an unquestionable cruelty, "and these stormy waves are the baptism she must undergo to recognize reality and break free from those ridiculous moral shackles." His gaze seemed to penetrate the walls, seeing Yukino's lonely retreating figure, his eyes filled with the pleasure of total control, "The thought of our proud and cold Yukinoshita Yukino eventually shedding all her defenses and throwing herself into my arms just like you... just thinking about it is incredibly delightful."
As he spoke, the gentle smile on Kanjuro's face instantly vanished, replaced by a cold indifference. He produced a black baseball cap and a matching mask from somewhere and skillfully put them on. The brim was pulled low, and the mask covered most of his face, leaving only a pair of deep eyes that no longer held any warmth—only coldness and hostility. At this moment, his temperament underwent a world-shaking change, transforming from an elegant noble son into a dangerous thug emerging from a dark alley.
Yukinoshita Yukino watched his transformation, a flash of complexity and helplessness in her eyes as she sighed softly: "Our daughter... isn't that naive. She is much more sharp and alert than I was back then."
Kanjuro adjusted the brim of his hat, his cold eyes looking out at the heavy night through the shadows, his lips curling into a predatory arc.
"It doesn't matter."
His voice, muffled by the mask, sounded dull and full of malice.
"The more alert the prey... the more fun it is to toy with."
"The game, has only just begun."
Yukinoshita Yukino didn't know how long she had walked or where she had gone. She just moved aimlessly along the dim streets, her mother's twisted confession and Kanjuro's chilling nature echoing in her mind. Home, that cold and magnificent cage—she didn't want to go back for a single moment.
Finally, fatigue and despondency led her to sit on a bench by a quiet riverbank. The night wind, carrying moisture, blew against her thin clothes, bringing waves of coldness, but it was far from the coldness in her heart. She looked up at the hazy, cold moon partially hidden by thin clouds, trying to draw a hint of peace from it, but what she couldn't shake from her mind were Kanjuro's deep eyes that seemed to swallow all light, and everything he had done to her mother and the Hikitani family.
(Dependence deep within the bones? A brand on the soul?)
(Just because... that face of his, that disguised tenderness?)
(Mother... you really...)
She couldn't understand, let alone accept it. A massive sense of loneliness and despair wrapped tightly around her.
Just then—
An extremely faint sound of footsteps, almost blending into the night wind, came from behind. Before Yukinoshita Yukino could react, a large hand wearing a black glove suddenly reached out from behind, tightly covering her mouth and nose! Another strong arm, like an iron hoop, instantly encircled her waist, lifting her entire body off the bench!
"Mmph—!!!"
A massive wave of terror instantly seized Yukino! She struggled desperately, her legs kicking wildly and her hands pulling at the hand covering her mouth, but the strength of that hand was staggering, as immovable as a steel vice! A sense of suffocation and fear flooded her heart like a tide.
In her extreme panic, she strained to turn her head, wanting to see the face of her attacker.
The moonlight barely managed to penetrate the clouds, outlining a figure wearing a low-pulled baseball cap and a black mask. The shadow of the brim almost completely obscured the upper half of his face, but she still met those eyes—eyes that remained sharp even in the shadows, currently filled with a cold hostility and a sense of familiarity!
This build... this faint silhouette... and these eyes!!
Even though he had deliberately changed his temperament and hidden his face, that bone-deep sense of familiarity sliced through Yukino's chaotic thoughts like a bolt of lightning!
It was him!
It could only be Him!
Kanjuro!!
In this instant, Yukinoshita Yukino suddenly understood the extremely complex feelings she held for Kanjuro deep within her heart. It wasn't just fear, and it wasn't just the rejection of being his "daughter"; it was mixed with a throb of attraction toward His inhuman charm that she was unwilling to admit even to herself. Now that she had confirmed it was Him, she felt an absurd sense of desperate relief, as if thinking, "So it really is like this."
The masked Kanjuro seemed very satisfied with the realization and deeper fear that flashed in her eyes. He leaned close to her ear and deliberately lowered his voice, producing a cold, gravelly sound—entirely different from what she usually heard—full of malice and threat:
"Slut, don't move! Come with me!"
This vulgar insult and cold tone were a world apart from the gentle and elegant "Brother Kanjuro" or "Uncle Kanjuro" she knew! But this only confirmed Yukino's suspicion—this was another of His "games," a more direct and violent "game" targeted specifically at her!
Yukinoshita Yukino's heart pounded frantically, nearly bursting from her chest.
She knew struggling was futile given the vast difference in strength. But she knew even better that if she were taken away by Him now, what awaited her would be an abyss even darker and more inescapable than the one her mother had faced years ago.
She was forcibly dragged from the bench toward the deeper darkness by the river. Under the moonlight, only her helplessly twisting figure and her ice-blue eyes—widened by extreme fear and the realization of reality, filled with complex tears—remained. This was a strange, simply furnished room with only a single dim yellow lightbulb providing a weak light source, casting long and short shadows. Yukinoshita Yukino was roughly thrown onto a hard wooden bed. She propped herself up and looked toward the figure standing at the edge of the shadows.
He took off the baseball cap and mask, revealing a face of peerless beauty, though it was now filled with an expression entirely different from his usual self. It wasn't a feigned gentleness or a playful smile, but a naked indifference carrying scrutiny and cold hostility. He slowly approached and leaned down. Wearing a black glove, he used extremely gentle force to lift Yukino's chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.
"Woman," his voice still carried that deliberately feigned rasp, but the familiarity in his eyes could not be hidden, "What? No resistance at all? Have you accepted your fate, or... are you scared witless?"
Yukinoshita Yukino did not struggle. She simply let him hold her chin, tears rolling continuously from her ice-blue eyes. However, her gaze was exceptionally clear, even possessing a penetrating power as she looked straight into the depths of Kanjuro's eyes.
"Uncle... Kanjuro." She called out the name softly and clearly.
Kanjuro's movements jerked to a halt. A very brief flash of astonishment passed through his eyes, which then transformed into an even more intense, almost frenzied interest! He abruptly let go and threw his head back in a hearty, unrestrained laugh:
"Hahaha... Hahahaha!! Interesting! So interesting!!" His laughter echoed in the small room, filled with the delight of someone who had discovered a treasure. "Yukino, you really are... far more interesting than that stupid mother of yours who was so easily tamed! To think... you recognized me so quickly?"
Yukino ignored his wild laughter and just watched him quietly. Tears continued to fall silently, but her voice was exceptionally gentle and calm, as if she weren't facing an abuser but talking to a relative who had gone astray:
"Kanjuro... do you really... want to hurt me like this?" she asked softly, with a hint of undetectable pleading. "By doing this... in the end, what can you possibly gain?"
Kanjuro stopped laughing and tilted his head at her as if pondering a profound question. Finally, he sighed, his tone carrying a matter-of-fact cruelty:
"To destroy something beautiful with my own hands, watching it go from whole to fragments... and then to test how much tolerance and... 'love' the owner of those fragments can still maintain for me, the destroyer." He spread his hands, his gaze innocent yet full of malice. "That's all. Isn't this... the most interesting game in the world?"
"You are clearly so outstanding, so handsome, possessing talent and power that mortals can hardly reach..." Yukino's voice was filled with confusion and heartache. "Why... why must you use this method? To prove what by hurting me?"
Hearing this, Kanjuro shook his head as if he had heard a naive joke, his tone carrying a mockery that had seen through the world:
"Outstanding? Handsome? Talent? Yukino, these 'appreciations' you speak of are too shallow, too fickle. How long can they last? A year? Ten years? A hundred?" His gaze became deep and obsessive. "But 'love-lust' is different... it blends fear, pain, possession, and dependence—all the most intense, darkest emotions—and brands them into the depths of the soul. It can make you... remember me forever, be entangled with me forever, whether that is love or hate, or a twisted product of the two. Isn't that far more interesting than that ethereal 'appreciation'?"
He stepped closer, his voice low and full of pressure: "Everything and everyone in this world is hypocritical! If I had nothing, if I shed this skin and power and became a truly filthy, ugly weakling... would you, Yukinoshita Yukino, still spare me a single glance?!"
Faced with this sharp, soul-piercing question, Yukinoshita Yukino fell silent for a moment. Just as the corners of Kanjuro's mouth were about to curl into a sneer, she looked up, her gaze clear and firm, and said softly:
"I would."
Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried a strange power.
"Because... you are Kanjuro."
Not because of your power, not because of your looks, but simply... because you are you.
The expression on Kanjuro's face froze for a moment. Something seemed to flash through those hostile eyes very quickly, but it was immediately covered by a deeper sense of playfulness. He suddenly laughed, his tone becoming light as if he were truly proposing a fun game:
"Oh? Really? Then... let's play a game, Yukino."
"What game?" Yukino looked at him warily.
Kanjuro didn't answer but took a step back. Then, a shocking scene unfolded—invisible ripples seemed to emanate from him. His peerless features began to twist and change, his upright posture became hunched, his smooth skin became covered in wrinkles and filth, and his expensive clothes were replaced by ragged, dirty strips of cloth... In the blink of an eye, the one standing before Yukino was no longer a magnificent youth, but an old, ugly tramp emitting a sour stench, with greasy hair and clouded eyes!
However, despite the earth-shattering change in appearance, the contours of his brow and especially the things deep within those profound eyes made Yukino absolutely certain—this was still Kanjuro!
"Now," the "old and ugly" Kanjuro spoke, his voice becoming hoarse and unpleasant. He grinned, revealing yellow-black teeth, and approached Yukino with a nauseating stench, "Do you... mind?"
The intense visual and olfactory impact made Yukino instinctively want to retreat, her stomach churning. Her brow furrowed tightly, her face showing clear resistance and discomfort.
"I..." She hesitated.
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