In the interrogation room, the cold metal walls reflected the harsh light, enveloping the entire space in a chilling atmosphere. Akira sat calmly on the chair, his hands resting on his knees, fingers slightly intertwined, as if waiting for something with ease. His face was drained of color, and his deep eyes, illuminated by the light, appeared particularly hollow and serene, as though they could see through everything, yet kept all at a distance.
Watanabe Makoto slowly set down the teacup in his hand, the faint steam swirling in the air before gradually dissipating. His gaze locked onto Akira, the scrutiny in his eyes unmistakable. The atmosphere between them was like a silent duel, coldly staring at each other without a single unnecessary word.
"Miss Kawashima," Watanabe finally broke the silence, his voice low and oppressive, "the body of your classmate, Mai Nakamura, was found in Sycamore Alley last night. The forensic report estimates the time of death to be around nine o'clock."
Akira's expression barely shifted, but those eyes remained unnervingly calm. He raised an eyebrow slightly and responded in a detached tone, "Is that so? How surprising."
Watanabe snorted, leaning forward slightly, his knuckles tapping on the table, the sound sharply clear in the silent room. His gaze grew more piercing, as if trying to excavate the secrets hidden deep within Akira's calm demeanor.
"Miss Kawashima, did you really think we brought you to the police station today just to offer you tea?" Watanabe's voice carried a threatening undertone, no longer hiding his suspicion.
Akira remained unmoved, treating Watanabe's aggressiveness as nothing more than irrelevant noise. He nodded slightly and replied indifferently, "Mr. Watanabe, you may speak plainly."
Watanabe didn't beat around the bush, directly pulling out two photos from a file and slamming them onto the table. They were of the crime scenes where Chizuru and Mai had been found, bloodstained ground with bodies twisted in grotesque positions, eyes wide open in death, their terror seemingly piercing through the photographs. Even in the still images, the agony and despair they must have experienced were palpably haunting.
Akira glanced at the photos with a dispassionate gaze, as if they were nothing more than ordinary pictures. His tone remained calm and unruffled, as if unaware that he was in the middle of a severe interrogation. "And then?"
Watanabe's expression darkened, and he forcefully pushed the photos closer, his tone tinged with a hint of suppressed anger. "Miss Kawashima, both of these victims were your classmates, and both had disputes with you. The killer's methods were so brutal and savage—are you really going to say this is all just a coincidence?"
Akira tilted his head slightly, his voice carrying a faint note of confusion. "Disputes? What disputes?"
Watanabe nearly laughed at his innocent expression, but instead, he stood up abruptly, leaning over the table with his hands pressed against its surface, his tone growing heavier. "Miss Kawashima, do you really think lying to the police will do you any good? We've already investigated; your relationships at school aren't exactly harmonious. Mai and Chizuru both bullied you multiple times. While bullying is wrong, it doesn't justify you brutally killing them. But considering your motive might be self-defense, if you confess now, we might consider leniency."
Akira's lips curled into a mocking smile, as if hearing something utterly absurd. He sighed lightly and looked up, meeting Watanabe's gaze with a hint of disdain in his eyes. "So the police do know about bullying? Then why, when I came to the station for help before, did you choose to ignore it?"
Watanabe was momentarily at a loss for words, sensing the deep irony in Akira's words. The tension in the interrogation room heightened, the cold light seeming even more glaring in the face of this confrontation. Akira's gaze remained steady and unshaken. To him, this interrogation was merely an extension of the hunt, with him still holding all the cards.
"Yes, I did think about going to the police when I had nowhere else to turn. In those dark times, the police were my last hope. But when I reached the station, reality doused me with cold water. The indifference and impatience of the officers snuffed out my last shred of hope," Akira thought to himself, recalling the bitter experience.
Watanabe quickly regained his composure, returning to his professional demeanor. He straightened up and spoke with a tone that carried a hint of apology. "I'm sorry, Miss Kawashima. I wasn't aware you had come to the police for help, nor did I expect such negligence from our officers. We will look into this matter."
Akira remained silent, but the faint smirk on his face persisted. Seeing no response, Watanabe continued, "However, we still hope you'll cooperate with the investigation into the current case." His tone was now more conciliatory, but still carried the authority of an interrogator.
Akira glanced at the photos on the table, the grisly scenes piercing his eyes. Chizuru and Mai, who had once bullied him so mercilessly, were now cold corpses. A wave of satisfaction inexplicably rose from within him.
Seeing Akira still silent, Watanabe's knuckles began tapping on the table again, his deep gaze fixed on Akira, trying to read his thoughts.
"Miss Kawashima," he frowned, his tone showing a trace of irritation. "You have the right to remain silent, but I must remind you that any deception or withholding of information could seriously harm your case."
Akira lowered his head, a subtle, almost imperceptible smile playing at the corners of his lips, making his expression in the harsh light appear even more eerie. After a long pause, he lifted his head, his fingers gently tracing the edge of the photos as if admiring a piece of art.
"Mr. Watanabe," Akira finally spoke, his voice eerily calm, "did you find my fingerprints at the scene? Or perhaps there was a witness who saw me kill Mai Nakamura?"
Watanabe looked into Akira's deep, unreadable eyes and shook his head. "No, we didn't."
Akira's smile widened slightly, as if mocking the impotence of the questions. "Isn't it a bit hasty to accuse someone without evidence?"
Watanabe crossed his arms, resting his chin on his hands, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Akira with cold scrutiny. "Then, Miss Kawashima, do you have an alibi?"
Akira answered slowly, "You must have checked the nearby surveillance, right? It should show that I went straight home after school."
Watanabe nodded. "You're right, we did review the footage from that area. But how can you be sure you weren't deliberately avoiding the cameras?"
Akira smiled faintly, as if responding to Watanabe's suspicion. "Isn't that just your assumption?"
His demeanor was poised, unflustered, and even leisurely, as if he was still in complete control. He knew that although Watanabe suspected him, without concrete evidence, he couldn't be charged. Akira was well aware of the surveillance blind spots and had deliberately taken a route that avoided all cameras, leaving only a perfect image of him innocently returning home.
Watanabe's frown deepened, realizing that this young girl was far more composed and cunning than he had anticipated. He had hoped to use psychological tactics to break her, but found her to be an unfathomable opponent. He had to admit that Akira was right; without evidence, he couldn't prove anything.
The tension in the room grew thicker, the silence between them like a taut wire. Watanabe tried to find any sign of emotion on Akira's face, but all he could see was that faint, enigmatic smile.
"Miss Kawashima, you're very smart," Watanabe finally broke the silence, his tone tinged with both frustration and admiration. "But I must warn you, those who are too clever often invite unnecessary trouble."
Akira raised an eyebrow, that slight smile still playing on his lips, as if responding, "I know, but I also believe that truly clever people know how to avoid such troubles."
Watanabe shook his head with a touch of resignation, standing up and giving Akira one last glance before leaving the interrogation room. The door closed softly behind him, and the room returned to silence. Akira lowered his gaze to the photos on the table, the smile fading as a cold, ruthless expression took its place. He gently traced his fingers over the bloodied images, as if touching a carefully crafted masterpiece.
"Sister, did you see that? These so-called righteous police are all so ignorant," Akira murmured to himself, as if declaring his victory. He stood up slowly, adjusted his collar, and walked towards the door, his innocent expression once again masking the cold calculation beneath. The world outside remained as it was, but he knew that this game of cat and mouse had only just begun.
Back home, Akira opened his notebook and casually crossed out the name "Mai Nakamura," as if erasing her existence from the world. His pen hovered over the name "Watanabe Makoto," and he paused, deep in thought, before decisively circling it.
"That detective is clever; perhaps it's wise to keep him around a little longer, not be in too much of a hurry to deal with him," Akira muttered to himself, a faint smile playing on his lips. His eyes reflected a complex mix of emotions—cold yet conflicted, as though he was weaving an intricate web, with Watanabe merely a thread in his larger plan.
Mai, for all that she did to me, didn't seem to warrant much sympathy. However, she came from a poor family, unloved by her parents, and lived in a cold, uncaring household devoid of warmth and affection. Perhaps it was this lack that drove her to cling to Misaki Suzuki, the wealthy girl who wielded power at school, eventually becoming her accomplice. In this hollow friendship, Mai found a sense of belonging, believing she had finally escaped her feelings of helplessness and loneliness. But it was all an illusion, a self-deception. Even fate's last shred of mercy for her vanished after her death.
Mai's parents, upon receiving a large sum of compensation from the school, displayed a twisted joy on their faces. They eagerly cooperated with the school to cover up the truth, falsely claiming that Mai had simply transferred to another school, showing no concern for their daughter's tragic death. They even went to the police, trying to persuade them to drop the investigation, but were firmly rejected by Makoto Watanabe. This enormous lie, like a thin veil, attempted to cover the bloodiness and cruelty of the facts. But to Akira, it was the ugliest reality of all. Mai was nothing more than a commodity in their eyes, and her death merely an opportunity for profit.
"She was pitiful too, I suppose," I sighed, shaking my head helplessly.
Akira looked at the row of names in his notebook, feeling no guilt or pity. He simply set down his pen and closed the notebook, as if completing just another routine task. To him, Mai was merely a small pawn in his revenge plan, her life and death just another step in the process. Makoto Watanabe's involvement had slightly altered Akira's plans, but it didn't affect his ultimate goal.
"These fools will all pay for what they've done, sister," Akira muttered to himself as he stood up and walked to the window, gazing out into the night. The city remained noisy even at night, but beneath that chaotic surface, countless unknown darknesses and secrets were hidden.