---
The television buzzed in the dimly lit room. A young female reporter, standing in front of yellow crime scene tape, spoke with urgency.
"Yesterday night, three murders were reported in the city. Two men and one woman were found dead near the Tuka-Kai alley. The identity of the woman has been confirmed as an employee at the Tuka—"
Akira turned off the television, tossing the remote aside. He sat up from his bed, rubbing his temples.
"Why are you here this early, Kento?" he asked, yawning and stretching lazily.
Kento stood by the door, fists clenched, his face pale and jaw tight. His voice trembled, yet carried a strange steadiness. "You're the one who did that… aren't you?"
Akira blinked, unfazed. "Yep. But… why?"
Without a second's hesitation, Kento punched him square in the face. Akira stumbled back, blood trickling from his lip. He wiped it with the back of his hand and stared at Kento, more amused than angry.
"You killed Isaku," Kento whispered. His voice cracked. His eyes welled up, but he refused to let the tears fall. "She was my everything, Akira. Everything."
"Isaku…?" Akira asked, genuinely confused. "Who's that?"
"My lover," Kento growled. "The woman you killed last night."
Akira stood frozen, mentally rewinding. His eyes widened—just a flicker. "I didn't know…" he muttered. "I had no idea it would be her."
"You liar!" Kento screamed, grabbing Akira by the collar. "Why?! Why did you do that?"
Akira looked away. Then slowly, he turned back, a strange smile growing across his face. "I don't know, but… I want to laugh at you."
Then he did laugh.
Loud. Empty. Cruel.
Kento didn't move. His shoulders slumped. For a moment, it looked like he might hit him again—but instead, he began to speak.
---
"You know how we met?" Kento began. "She hated me at first."
"I was in my second year of high school. Isaku was a transfer student—sharp tongue, loner, a bit cold. I was loud, reckless, the class clown. One day, I accidentally spilled juice all over her books. I thought she'd kill me, but she just stared at me and said, 'Buy me new ones. Today.'"
"I followed her to the bookstore. That day, we talked. Just a little. About books, life, music. I found out she loved old jazz records. I started listening to them, just to have something to talk about."
"But then… she disappeared for two weeks. No texts. No calls. Nothing."
"When she came back, her face had bruises. She said she 'fell.' I knew she was lying. But I stayed quiet."
"One night, I followed her home. I found out everything—her father was abusive. She lived in a silent hell."
"I couldn't sleep that night. I called her and told her I knew. She didn't speak for a full minute. Then she said... 'So what? Will you save me now, superhero?'"
"I didn't know how to answer. But I went to her place the next day—with a baseball bat."
"I didn't get far. Her father broke three of my ribs and threw me out."
"But she… she ran out after me. That was the first time she cried in front of me."
"We ran away. Stayed in a friend's garage for a week. Ate ramen and cheap chocolate. I told her I loved her."
"She said she didn't believe in love."
"But after a month, she kissed me."
"That night… she told me her dream. She wanted to open a bookstore café. Where people could read and drink bitter coffee and forget their problems."
"We started working. Small jobs. Saved every coin. She even started smiling more. She smiled like… like spring after winter."
"And then last night—" Kento's voice broke. "You killed her."
---
Akira stood silently, leaning against the wall. For once, he didn't laugh.
"I'm getting late," he muttered, walking away. "Go talk to John. Don't bother me."
Without another word, he shut the washroom door behind him.
Kento stood in silence, fists trembling, chest hollow.
Then he took out his phone. His thumb hovered for a second before he tapped a contact: Unknown Number.
It rang.
The line clicked.
"They're right," Kento said. "He really is a monster."
"Good," the voice replied. "Then we begin tonight."
---