"..."
The painter repeated the words he once heard from Yamashita Kazuhiro.
Then he laughed, this time the man's smile was discordant and fragmented, the corners of his mouth pulled upward, but his eyes clearly showed pain and a plea for help.
Standing in front of Tsurumi Aoi, Kanoya Yukino silently pulled out a paint-sprayed Glock, holding it in her left hand.
Her gaze wandered back and forth between the painter and the portrait of Tsurumi Ruri beside him.
Shouka had already noticed; the black and gray vivid strokes on Tsurumi Ruri's portrait were writhing in an extremely eerie status, with a very ominous aura emanating from it.
Under the dim lighting of the room, the beautiful and pure image of the girl in the painting had turned sinister, as if she could twist and crawl out of the frame at any moment.
The painting was alive!
