I came back to my senses and saw Takumi take another deep swig of his drink. The strong smell of alcohol quickly filled the air.
"Abandon my daughter?" He laughed bitterly, his eyes betraying a hint of pain and helplessness. "I could never abandon her—I love her too much."
Akira's grip on the dagger loosened slightly, but his cold gaze remained locked on Takumi. Takumi saw Akira's indifference reflected in his eyes and managed a wry smile, though his voice was still tinged with a deep sadness.
"My ex-wife and I met in college," Takumi began, his voice carrying a trace of bitterness as his gaze drifted, lost in memories. "It was a chance encounter. She happened to taste a dish I had made, and from that day on, she couldn't forget my cooking. We got married a few years later, and our life together was always calm—at least, I always thought our relationship was good."
Takumi sighed, a look of melancholy crossing his face. His story had a compelling force that quickly drew me into his past. "Soon, we had a lovely daughter. Although my savings were enough to ensure we would never worry about food or drink, I always wanted to provide them with something better. I mean, what man doesn't want to give his wife and daughter the best life possible? So, I started working hard, leaving early and coming home late every day, spending almost all my time in the kitchen. My efforts paid off—my restaurant became more and more successful, and business was booming."
His voice caught slightly, as if the memories of success only brought deeper pain. "Finally, I landed a big order. The client was very generous and offered me a contract. As long as I signed it, the cooperation would continue indefinitely. I was overjoyed and planned to share the good news with my wife, thinking it would mark a new beginning for our family."
Takumi paused, shaking his head with a bitter smile. "But when I got home, waiting for me wasn't just the contract—it was also a divorce agreement." He lowered his head, his eyes filled with helplessness and self-mockery. "How ironic that at that moment, I realized all the happiness I thought I had was nothing more than a self-deceptive dream."
Akira still held the dagger, his cold gaze fixed on Takumi, but something in Takumi's words seemed to touch him, and a flicker of complex emotion crossed his eyes. The room was filled with a heavy silence, and the pain and helplessness in the story permeated the air, silently invading everyone present.
"At that moment, I looked at the paper, thinking my eyes were playing tricks on me. But those five words were clearly printed on the paper, like a knife stabbing into my heart. The reality was right in front of me, and no matter how much I didn't want to believe it, I had to accept this harsh truth."
Takumi's gaze turned hollow as he returned to that moment of despair. "I remember almost begging her, asking why she was doing this, why she wanted a divorce. But she just held our two-year-old daughter and looked at me coldly, with no warmth in her eyes. She told me that I was always out working, never having time to be with them. At that moment, it felt like my head was about to explode, as if the constant pressure and exhaustion had finally taken their toll. I didn't even have the strength to argue anymore, and I just lost consciousness."
As he continued, his voice grew even quieter. "When I woke up, I was met with nothing but an empty house, eerily quiet. The divorce agreement was the only thing left on the table, mocking my incompetence and failure. At that moment, I understood that there was nothing left to save." He shook his head with a bitter laugh. "I thought maybe it really was my fault. I was too focused on my career, thinking that if I could just provide them with a better material life, everything would be fine. I ignored what they really needed—my companionship, not just money and comfort. By the time I realized all this, it was already too late."
Akira silently slid the dagger back into his sleeve, his gaze still cold, but he unexpectedly placed a piece of sashimi on Takumi's plate and said softly, "You should eat something and continue talking." Takumi blinked in surprise, then smiled gratefully, placing the sashimi in his mouth before taking another big swig of alcohol. His hand trembled slightly as he wiped away the liquid from the corner of his mouth, seemingly preparing himself for the words to come.
"But the truth was far more cruel than I imagined," he continued, his voice trembling slightly. "Not long ago, one of my ex-wife's close friends came to eat at my restaurant, and during our conversation, she accidentally let something slip. That was when I found out that even before we got married, my ex-wife had been seeing a wealthy businessman. He had always been a part of her life, and I don't even know if my daughter… if she is really mine."
He paused, his eyes glistening with tears. "She married me only because that businessman was also married at the time and couldn't marry her right away. So she found me to be a 'temporary substitute.' But even knowing that, I was still willing to love them and accept this deception." His voice became hoarse, tinged with a mix of emotions. "Especially when my daughter first learned to speak, and her soft, sweet voice called me 'Dad' for the first time… my heart melted. From that moment on, I decided that no matter if she was my biological daughter or not, I would love her for the rest of my life…"
Takumi's voice gradually faded, becoming broken and dreamlike until he finally fell silent. Exhausted, he closed his eyes and drifted into sleep. Akira stood beside him, looking down at the table full of dishes that had been steaming just moments ago but now seemed lonely and forlorn. The dining table, which should have been filled with warmth and togetherness, now only held a solitary figure and a silence that was heart-wrenchingly poignant.
Akira stood there quietly, as if struggling with some internal conflict. After a moment, he sighed softly, seemingly having made a decision. He didn't disturb the sleeping Takumi but instead quietly left the restaurant. The night outside was deep, and the street was deserted, with only Akira's figure casting a lonely shadow under the streetlight. As Akira walked away, the restaurant returned to its previous stillness, with only the faint aroma of the food lingering in the air, as if silently lamenting an unfinished story.
This little episode at the restaurant didn't seem to affect Akira much. He was still the same as always. Although he appeared to be living a normal life of attending school and working part-time over the past few days, I could sense that he had already set his sights on his next target—Mai, the girl who once shoved my head into a toilet and forced me to kneel and slap myself. Akira's gaze often lingered on Mai during class, filled with a calculating coldness. I had a feeling that Akira was considering how to erase her from this world.
Sure enough, a few days later, on a quiet night, even the wind seemed to hold its breath. The moon hung in the sky, its silver light filtering through the thin clouds, casting a faint glow on the ground. The entire street was shrouded in a pale, eerie light, and the surrounding buildings looked sinister and desolate in the moonlight, their long shadows twisting on the ground like unseen monsters lurking in the dark. Akira silently waited on the path Mai would take home. When she passed by unsuspectingly, Akira suddenly grabbed her by the hair and dragged her into a dark alley with swift, practiced movements. To prevent her from screaming, he stuffed a coarse cloth into her mouth, stifling her fear and voice.
I watched the terror in Mai's eyes, feeling a mix of emotions. Perhaps the bully never imagined she would one day be on the receiving end of such treatment. Her reaction was exactly the same as mine back then. Akira tossed her to the ground, and she landed with a heavy thud. She curled up in pain, nearly fainting, while Akira coldly stared at her, pressing his foot into her stomach and grinding it as if she were nothing more than an object. Mai's face twisted in agony, and in the dim light, she finally saw clearly the person in front of her. The faint light illuminated Akira's flawless features, and his icy, bone-chilling eyes were like sharp blades, revealing undisguised contempt and hostility, as if he were looking at a toy rather than a person. Shock and fear froze on Mai's face. Seeing her disbelief, Akira suddenly became interested, yanking the cloth from her mouth and speaking in a low voice, "If you dare to scream, I'll make sure you never leave a trace."
Mai clearly never expected "Kawashima Megumi" to have such strength and audacity. The scream that was about to escape her lips was swallowed back down. She was now crying, pleading in a small voice, "Kawashima Megumi, I'm sorry. I'll never bully you again. I really know I was wrong. Please, please forgive me…"
Akira crouched down beside her, gripping her chin tightly and forcing her to look directly at him. "So why did you bully Kawashima Megumi?"
Mai was on the brink of collapse, overwhelmed by pain and fear, and didn't notice anything strange about Akira's words. Trembling with terror, she shook her head repeatedly, stammering, "It wasn't me, I wasn't the one who wanted to bully you! It was Misaki Suzuki! She was jealous of how beautiful you are, jealous of your good grades, and jealous that Satoru Sato liked you… I really didn't want to hit you, but she threatened me. She forced me to do it, everything was her doing… I didn't dare to go against her, or I'd be the next one getting bullied."
Akira let out a cold laugh, as if he'd just heard the most absurd joke, "So, my foolish sister was bullied to death just because she was too good?"
It was only then that Mai realized something was wrong. "You're not Megumi Kawashima, are you?"
Akira didn't bother to answer her question. Instead, he slowly advanced towards her, suddenly grabbing her throat with both hands.
"Being afraid of getting bullied doesn't justify bullying others." Akira's eyes were filled with malice as his grip tightened. Mai's face turned a deep shade of blue, her legs kicked weakly as she desperately tried to break free. Just as she was about to lose consciousness, Akira abruptly let go. Mai collapsed to the ground like a rag doll, gasping for air. She looked up at Akira with a glimmer of hope, thinking he had decided to spare her, but his next words plunged her heart into an icy abyss.
"You made my sister suffer so much. Do you think I'd let you die that easily?" Akira drew a knife from his sleeve and slowly approached Mai. The blade glinted coldly in the dim light, sending chills down Mai's spine. As the knife neared, she couldn't hold back a scream, but Akira quickly pinned her to the ground, efficiently slicing off her tongue. He then picked up her hand, examining it with a hint of a smile. "Was it this hand that hit my sister?" In a flash, her fingers were severed, followed by the entire hand. "Jealous of my sister's beauty, were you? Don't worry, I'll make you just as beautiful." The knife shifted direction, and Akira meticulously peeled the skin off Mai's face. The excruciating pain was too much for her to bear, and she fainted. Akira stood up, looking down at the lifeless body with a sense of disappointment. "How boring."
To Akira, the living prey was always more interesting than the dead. From a young age, he'd enjoyed watching his prey's final struggle, the fear in their eyes. In Akira's view, death wasn't an end but a process, one he could savor repeatedly. The screams of pain, the pleading eyes, the tears of despair—all were mere decorations in this game, a game where he was the master. Each hunt was like a flawless performance for Akira; he coldly manipulated the fate of his prey until they were completely consumed by darkness. For him, the pleasure of the hunt lay not in the death of his prey but in the moment of submission and helplessness—that was the trophy he truly desired.
But Megumi didn't seem to like him doing such things, so Akira had to conceal this hobby.
Akira caressed the knife, gently wiping off the blood.
The next morning, a series of urgent knocks shattered the silence of the room, rousing Akira from his sleep. My heart tightened, immediately sensing that something was wrong. A quick glance through the door crack confirmed my fears: several policemen were standing outside, their expressions stern, clearly not here with good intentions. I was surprised at how quickly the police had acted. Before I could even worry about Akira, I saw him, as if he had already anticipated all of this, calmly rising from the bed, completely unfazed by the tension at the door. He casually walked into the bathroom and began washing up, not in the least bit hurried. My heart was pounding with anxiety, but Akira's composure somehow brought me a strange sense of reassurance. After finishing his morning routine, he put on a wig and then leisurely walked towards the door, gently turning the doorknob and opening it.
The police outside were visibly impatient. The officer in charge frowned as he saw Akira emerge, immediately showing his badge.
"Miss Kawashima, please come with us to the station."