After being released from prison, Haruto's true hell began. His erectile dysfunction became a permanent curse. Every attempt to get close to a woman failed, until he happened to see a nurse whose ears resembled Hana's. In that moment, his blood seemed to boil; for the first time in years, he felt a resurgence.
He realized: only girls who possessed a feature similar to Hana's could awaken his body.
Thus, a bloody hunt began. The slender hands of a schoolgirl, the thick black hair of a singer, the straight legs of a dancer... With each murder, he would take the part most resembling Hana and stitch it onto the gradually forming "masterpiece." Each time, he felt temporarily comforted, as if he were step by step reclaiming his lover.
On the projection screen, flickering images appeared: Haruto wooing a girl with a smile like Hana's; the scene of him taking her home; then the choked scream in the dark night. Each murder was carried out quickly, coldly, like a surgical procedure.
Back in the present, Haruto raised the scalpel. The cold steel glinted.
"Just a little more," he whispered to the trembling girl. "You will help me hear those words from her lips."
Haruto raised the scalpel, preparing to touch Mina's heart-shaped lips.
At that moment, the blaring sound of a police siren erupted from the projection screen. The room door was smashed open.
"POLICE! DROP YOUR WEAPON!"
Blinding flashlight beams shone in. Haruto flinched, instinctively pulling the dummy girl named Mina up, pressing the scalpel to her neck. "Don't come closer!" he roared.
On the projection screen, a young female police officer stepped forward, signaling her colleagues to step back. "Calm down, Haruto. Let her go, we can talk."
That voice...
Haruto suddenly froze. That voice was clear, gentle, yet firm—exactly like Hana's voice from the past. For a moment, it was as if he saw Hana's figure appear before him.
"You... are you Hana?" he stammered, the madness in his eyes suddenly softening.
"I am officer Akane," the girl replied, slowly taking another step forward. "Let that girl go, Haruto. This is not the right way."
Haruto shook his head, the scalpel pressing tighter, making Mina scream. "No! You must be Hana! Say it! Say the question you always asked me when we were intimate!" he yelled.
"What question?" officer Akane asked.
"'Do you love me?'" Haruto uttered, his voice full of desperation. "Say it! Please, say it for me to hear!"
Akane looked straight into his eyes, her tone serious: "Haruto, I am not Hana. She is gone forever."
In that moment, a painful truth pierced Haruto's heart. He realized his terrible mistake. No matter how many body parts he stitched together, no matter how many girls he killed, he could never get the real Hana back. It was all an illusion. It was all madness.
This truth drove him over the edge. In despair, he raised the knife, intending to finish off Mina. "Then we all die together!"
"BANG!"
A gunshot rang out.
Haruto stopped. A dark red stain spread rapidly on his white lab coat. The scalpel in his hand clattered to the floor. He collapsed, blood gushing from the corner of his mouth.
Akane, her gun still smoking, rushed forward to rescue Mina.
Haruto lay on the cold floor, feeling life slipping away. He reached a hand towards Akane, his voice weak: "Please... just say it once... 'Do you love me?'..."
Akane turned to look at him, a flicker of pity in her eyes. She bent down, her voice gentle but clear: "Do you love me?"
In that moment, Haruto's face relaxed. He smiled, a strangely serene smile after years of suffering.
"Yes," he breathed out, softly like a whisper. "I love you... Hana... I'm sorry..."
His final breath escaped his lips. His eyes closed, the faint smile still on his face. His outstretched arm fell limp onto the cold floor.
On the projection screen, the illusion of Hana finally appeared, smiling at Haruto one last time before fading away.
Outside the window, the group of Gyaru stood in silence.
No one spoke a word. No one uttered a sound of surprise. Yumi and the other girls just stood there, tears silently streaming down their cheeks. They had just witnessed the death of a serial killer, but also the end of a love tragedy that had spanned decades.
"Finally... he found what he wanted," Yumi whispered, her voice choked.
They quietly left, carrying with them the image of a love twisted into a demon, and the final answer that had come in the last moment.
Inside the club room, the performance ended. Haruto slowly sat up, his face still drenched in sweat. He let out a long sigh, as if relieved of a tremendous burden.
The room was silent. No one could speak. Even Kenji just nodded silently, a gesture of deep respect.