Morning
Misaki arrived at her father's house ready for answers.
While one of the bodyguards went to wake Minister Akeshi, she wandered through what had once been her bedroom, taking in the strange comfort of seeing it so carefully preserved. The room was neat. The sheets had been changed since her last visit. Her oversized fluffy teddy bear still sat exactly where she used to keep it, tucked beside the bed like an old witness refusing to move on.
For a moment, standing there, she felt almost displaced by memory.
Then the doorknob turned.
The door opened, and Akeshi stepped in wearing his sleeping robe, his face still heavy with sleep but undeniably warmed by the sight of her.
"Good morning," he said, heading toward the bed as though it were the only place in the room comfortable enough for whatever was coming.
Misaki remained standing beside the study table.
No smile.
No warmth.
"Good morning, Dad," she replied dryly.
He sat on the bed and stretched his body sharply before looking up at her.
"What are you doing here so early? You could've called."
Misaki's face did not soften.
"This is my home too. I can come here whenever I want. I don't need an appointment. I'm your daughter."
Akeshi blinked, then nodded quickly.
"Right. Yes. You're right. I'm sorry."
He had already heard the edge in her tone. It made him uneasy before the real conversation even began.
"You said you wanted to talk?"
"I do."
She sat at last, though not close enough for comfort.
"I heard you went to apologize to Kro. Is that true?"
"Yes," Akeshi said immediately. "I did. We made peace. We agreed to leave the past behind."
Misaki watched him.
"Was it sincere," she asked, "or was it a distraction?"
The question landed like a slap.
Akeshi frowned.
"What are you talking about? Of course it was sincere. Everything I said to her came from my heart."
"Maybe," Misaki said. "But I'm having a very hard time believing that."
She drew in a breath.
"I know Kro isn't your first victim. You probably thought I was blind to what you were doing all these years, but I wasn't."
The smile on Akeshi's face disappeared completely.
His features seemed to collapse inward.
"Misaki—"
"It started when I was fifteen," she said, cutting straight through him. "You killed one of my friend's aunt."
Akeshi froze.
"I didn't know then. I thought it was an accident. I was stupid." Her voice thickened. "I've witnessed twenty-six deaths in my life because of you."
Akeshi stared at her, stricken.
"And Kro was going to be the twenty-seventh."
The room seemed to shrink around them.
"Why didn't you say—"
Misaki laughed once, bitter and sharp.
"What the hell is wrong with you?"
He flinched.
"I stayed silent all this time," she said, her voice shaking now. "But I can't do it anymore. Mom had to take me to therapy for three years because every time I looked in the mirror, all I could see was the daughter of a monster."
Her voice broke there. She pressed both hands over her face, trying to steady herself, but the pain was bigger than the effort to contain it.
Akeshi felt his chest cave in.
He wanted to move toward her.
To comfort her.
To reach for her.
But shame glued him where he sat.
"Misaki… look at me."
She lowered her hands just enough to speak.
"Do you know someone named Karina?"
Akeshi frowned.
"I've never heard that name. Who is she?"
Misaki stared at him hard.
"You don't know Karina?"
"No."
For a second, she searched his face to see whether he was lying.
Nothing obvious came.
Then she stood abruptly.
"Fine. If you won't tell me, I'll ask her myself."
"I swear to God—"
"God of what?" Misaki shot back. "Death?"
He winced.
"My apology was sincere," he said, sounding almost desperate now. "And I do not know any Karina. Please believe me. I'm trying to change for you."
Misaki gave him a smile so cold it hurt more than shouting would have.
"Yeah. Sure. You are."
She turned toward the door.
He said nothing.
That silence stopped her more than any words could have.
She looked back over her shoulder.
"It's not too late to come clean," she said. "I still managed to smile around you all these years even after knowing what you are. But I'm reaching my limit."
Her hand tightened on the doorknob.
"I'm this close to calling myself fatherless."
Then she walked out.
Akeshi remained where he was, staring into the room as if it had emptied of oxygen.
He could not stop replaying her face.
Her voice.
Her fury.
And for the first time in years, he began to understand that the real damage he had done was not to strangers.
It was to the daughter who had spent her entire life surviving him.
...
Ssota
Ukraine lay on his bed staring at the photograph.
The 1944 photograph.
Kro, decades before his birth, stepping out of a bakery with that same unreadable face, that same impossible beauty, that same feeling of someone carrying far more than their body should be able to hold.
It overwhelmed him.
That the woman in the picture was the same woman who had eaten dinner with him, argued with him, taken his hand, smiled at him, and admitted she missed him.
Seventy years sat between the photo and the present, yet she had crossed them untouched.
His eyes stayed fixed on the image while certain words of hers replayed in his mind again and again.
Ukraine, some things aren't what they seem.
What if what she said is true? What if I'm dead?
I don't know what you heard about me, but I'm not that strong and I'm not that weak either. The only thing you can do for me is care. Even a little.
Each sentence landed with that same tiny, sharp discomfort somewhere inside him.
A pinching sensation.
Easy to ignore, if he wanted to.
He didn't want to anymore.
...
Far-Bridge
Afternoon
Kro had returned home and collapsed into sleep almost immediately.
After everything—after the house, the minister, the dream intrusion, the strain of too many dangers pressing in too closely—her body had given up and taken what it needed. She had been asleep for three straight hours, still wearing the clothes from the night before.
Her bed felt heavenly.
The blanket felt impossibly soft.
She could have slept through the entire day.
If the phone would let her.
It rang once.
She ignored it.
Then again.
And again.
By the fifth call, she snatched it up in pure irritation and checked the screen.
Ukraine.
A long, exhausted sigh dragged from her chest.
She answered.
"What, Ukraine?"
Her voice was rough with sleep and annoyance.
"You sound sleepy. Are you home?"
Kro shut her eyes.
"Why do I feel like I'm supposed to lie to you if I want to get back to sleep in peace?"
"You're home, right?"
She heard the smile in his voice.
"Yeah."
"Great. I'm outside. Come open the door."
Kro sat up in bed.
"I knew it. Go home, Ukraine. Go bother someone else. I'm exhausted."
"I'll just cook for you and leave."
"I have food, boy."
"Then I'll just quietly watch you sleep."
Kro stared at the phone.
"Are you a creep?"
"I won't do anything then. I'll just stay in the living room."
She knew then that he was not going anywhere.
Without another word, she hung up, shoved the phone under the pillow, and dragged herself out of bed.
By the time she opened the front door, she was already turning away to go back upstairs.
Ukraine stepped inside and stared after her.
"Are you seriously leaving me down here alone?"
"Yes."
"What if I steal something?"
Without looking back, Kro answered, "I'll know, and I'll beat the shit out of you."
Ukraine laughed.
"Jesus Christ. Why are you so violent?"
Then, softer:
"Fine. I'll be okay down here. Sleep well."
Kro kept walking.
He sat down on the sofa feeling unexpectedly stupid.
At least she had let him in.
Still, something in him ached at how easily she had left him by himself after he had come all the way there.
She knows better than anyone how loneliness feels, he thought. And she still just walked away.
Then he heard footsteps.
He turned immediately.
And everything in him stopped.
Kro was coming back down the stairs with a pillow and blanket in her arms.
Without saying anything, she placed the pillow on the sofa, lay down on it, and pulled the blanket over herself.
Ukraine stared.
"I thought you were going to sleep in your room."
Kro turned toward the back of the couch, tucking herself in.
"Aren't you here to see me?"
He didn't answer.
By then he wasn't sure breathing was still functioning correctly.
Kro's voice softened.
"And I know how bad loneliness feels. I'm not cruel enough to leave you in it."
Then she added, quieter:
"Goodnight."
Ukraine felt heat flood straight into his face.
She had no idea what those words had just done to him.
Or maybe she did.
Either way, lying there beside him in the same room, half-asleep and entirely trusting, she made him feel absurdly, painfully special.
...
Reeb
Sue had not believed the text message when it came.
Not truly.
She had believed in hope, in terror, in the possibility of cruelty—but not in miracles. Not until she drove.
She drove too fast.
Far too fast.
Tears blurred her vision long before she even reached the destination, and still she kept going. If she earned ten tickets on the way there, she would have accepted them gladly.
By the time she arrived, she was out of the car before the engine had fully settled.
Leo heard the knocking and already knew it was her.
He opened the door.
Sue rushed inside, hands shaking, eyes frantic.
"Where is she?"
"She's in the washroom," Leo said softly. "She'll come out in a second."
Sue moved straight to the bathroom door as if pulled there by something stronger than thought. She could hear faint movement inside. Just enough to make her stomach twist into knots.
She knocked once.
"Z-Zoe?" Her voice broke at the name. "Baby, is that you?"
Silence.
Sue looked back at Leo, desperate.
He stood a few steps away, watching with quiet satisfaction and a kind of ache of his own. He knew what was about to happen and still felt unprepared for the size of it.
Inside the washroom, soft footsteps approached.
Then a tiny uncertain voice spoke through the door.
"Is that you? Mom?"
Sue pressed closer at once.
"Yes! Yes, it's me, my love. It's Mommy."
The door flew open.
There stood a little girl with thick ebony curls and bare feet in loose white socks, wearing what looked like a school nightdress.
For one frozen second, Zoe simply stared.
Then recognition burst through her.
"Mom!"
She launched herself forward with all the force her small body had.
Sue caught her instantly.
The little girl wrapped herself around her mother so tightly it was as though she feared even blinking might make the moment disappear.
Sue held her just as hard.
Her tears soaked through Zoe's collar within seconds.
It wasn't a dream.
Her daughter was real in her arms.
Warm.
Small.
Breathing.
Alive.
The relief hurt so badly it almost felt like grief turning inside out.
"I will never, ever let anyone take you away from me again," Sue sobbed into her hair. "Ever."
And with Zoe held against her chest, she finally felt the most broken part of her life begin, at last, to come back.
***