A Few Days Earlier— Christina Town[1], Feropia.
Satoshi Manabu lived here with his late grandma; ever since he was seven or eight, he couldn't recall exactly when. But before here, he had lived somewhere else with his mother, who went missing before he settled here with his grandma.
On an early, chilling winter morning, Manabu was under his soft, thick woolen blanket, struggling to open his eyes despite the alarm ringing twice. The warmth of his bed enticed him to stay cocooned. With a soft groan, he stretched his legs and arms, thinking he'd take another five-minute nap, which stretched into forty minutes. He wasn't late, but he was quite work-shy. Even if he managed to get up earlier, he was as slow as a sloth.
After his so-called five-minute nap, he tried to get out of bed. He turned aggressively to the opposite side of his body and hit his shin on the sharp corner of the nightstand beside the bed. He screamed loudly, now fully awake from the pain.
Manabu was his teachers' favorite, excelling in math and detentions. Only a few days remained before the Christmas holiday. He sat on the bed lazily; while rubbing his eyes, he forced himself to stand and notice the date on the calendar: it was November 27, 1899. He stretched again and looked at the table clock. It was already 8:00; he still had one hour before college began. He slid the curtains open, letting wind in, but the air was immensely cold. He headed to the bathroom and switched on the light. Turning on the tap, the cold water bit at his skin, making him shiver slightly. He reached for his toothbrush and squeezed toothpaste onto the bristles. Even six years ago, as he remembered, winters weren't this harsh, but now the cold was unbearable. It seeped into your bones. Manabu hadn't had enough money to afford warm, thick clothing. He barely earned enough to pay the rent and college fees at the same time. He sold magazines and worked in a sweet shop part-time. It was tiring, but he was out of choices.
As he brushed his teeth, his thoughts wandered. When he finished, he spat, rinsed, and headed to the door to fetch the newspaper, but there was none. "Where's the newspaper? He didn't come today either?" he thought and felt a little annoyed with the newspaper delivery guy. With a sigh of irritation, Manabu went back inside, as the air outside was too cold.
Rinsing his face one last time, he splashed tap water on his skin; the frigid water invigorated him, turning his face red from the cold. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he walked to his room, to the wardrobe, and took out his blue shirt and formal pinstriped pants. He fixed his hair and took the keys.
Manabu was seventeen and would likely turn eighteen by the end of December. As he prepared to leave, his gaze fell on a framed photo of himself and his grandmother on the hall cupboard. He was probably seven when the picture was taken; she was healthy then, but her heart condition had worsened over time. He picked up the photo, wiping dust off with his sleeve. Her kind eyes looked back at him—a bittersweet reminder of her absence.
She had passed away seven months ago due to heart disease, and though time had moved forward, the void lingered. Manabu loved his grandmother the most. With no parents, she had been his world.
It was 9 a.m., and the first lecture was at Nine-thirty, so he rushed. He muttered to himself while he jogged; talking to himself was a habit, something he found oddly comforting, not because he had any social anxiety nor was he lonely or anything. He had friends, but he was more likely peculiar since childhood.
Before rushing on his way to school, he called his friend, Taiju Hiroshi, on his home telephone; no one picked up. So he dialed Mai's, and her parents said they were already at college.
Mai and Taiju were at the school library where they were invested in the CRTmonitorcomputer. Mai had already mastered using the web browser, while others watched her explore, and it was quite amusing. Then the librarian walked up to Mai and told her she had a call from Manabu just a minute earlier.
So Mai replied, "Forward my words to him: Be at the library, we are there."
The librarian looked at her as if she would.
A little further down the road, he sighted Sayuri Mion walking ahead and called out to her. She turned, frowning, but ignoring her confusion, Manabu clasped her hand and walked along with her in rhythm. Manabu didn't realize that he had embarrassed her in front of students and people, who were giggling at them, making her blush. She gently pulled her hand back and said, "Ma—Manabu, I can walk just fine."
Manabu blinked twice in confusion, glancing at their hands before letting go with an apologetic laugh.
"It's totally alright, Manabu," Mion said.
(She wouldn't have minded holding hands, but it was embarrassing for her; so many people were watching. She was a naturally shy girl.)
They reached the school and went to their respective classes. Detens Scholars High School and College was the most renowned institution in Feropia. Manabu and his friends were students there. It was established in 1812 in Christina Town.
This was Manabu's first year in college. He and the shy one shared the same classroom.
Their class commenced with the first lecture—Physics. The teacher, Mr. Futaba, entered the room. As head of the physics department, he was friendly and somewhat childish for his age. He was not only their main class teacher but also Naomi's father. Naomi, who was like a sister to Sayuri, had been her closest friend since childhood and was also Manabu's close friend. The bond between Sayuri and Naomi was inseparable, and they always stuck together, even as they grew older. Similarly, the brotherhood between Taiju and Manabu was well-known on campus.
Taiju came from privilege—his father, a highly successful businessman, was among Feropia's wealthiest elites. His father had assigned an entire apartment to Taiju, entrusting him with its management—collecting rent and overseeing maintenance—toteach him independence and responsibility.
In the evening, the gang—Manabu, Taiju, Sayuri, Mai, and Naomi—gathered at Taiju's apartment. Their study sessions mixed focused reading with endless chatter, blending discipline and camaraderie. Despite their varied personalities, they were united by a shared, uncompromising sense of justice.
Manabu had an obsessive interest in criminal studies, Law enforcement. Manabu's obsession with justice was rooted in his bond with his grandmother, his guiding light. Her words of wisdom echoed in his mind. A paragon of kindness, she always saw the good in people. She was everything Manabu aspired to be, yet he believed he could never achieve it. He often thought poorly of himself, feeling he could never make her proud. Even as she lay dying, her thoughts were probably filled with compassion.
But Manabu could never forget the regret that consumed him the night before she passed. His grandmother had given a man a large sum of money with no guarantee of repayment. Manabu called her a fool for being so blindly kind and went out to Taiju's place. Instead of staying, he spent the evening riding Taiju's motorcycle around town, trying to cool his frustration. When Taiju heard about the argument, he insisted on taking Manabu home. But by the time they returned, it was too late.
They found her lying on her bed, completely still. At first, they thought she was asleep. It wasn't until dinner, when they tried to wake her, that they realized. They called an ambulance and rushed to the hospital, but the doctor's words shattered Manabu:
"She had passed away hours ago. She died of congestive cardiomyopathy. Her heart had enlarged beyond its normal size."
Ironically, that regret grew even more after the man to whom she had lent the money returned the favor. Since then, he always regretted almost everything that went wrong.
Manabu had some mental health issues that he hid from his friends. Since childhood, strange nightmares had plagued him, feeling more like memories than dreams. He had once visited a doctor with his grandmother, undergone mental evaluations, and been prescribed medication. But for the past few weeks, Manabu hadn't taken his medicine regularly, and the nightmares crept in during the dead of night.
Memories blurred with dreams, a torment that refused to leave. Many years ago, when he was a child—he did not know when exactly—he would cry in his sleep, whispering strange things, uttering cuss words, calling for his mother. He could see only three wolves eating a white rabbit with purplish eyes, while its child was forced to look at it being eaten alive. Manabu cried while it happened, begging for her life. That night, the child had lost someone precious to him. Then those wolves attacked the child and left him in a devastating state.
At this point, Manabu always woke up. He tried to remember, but it felt like that part of the memory never existed, or his brain was simply trying to forget it. A complex emotion or just a delusion, perhaps.
Within a few days, their college closed for winter vacation, granting Manabu several weeks to sleep in peaceful solitude. Days passed like a cold breeze running through tree leaves.
One morning of vacation, at around 11:00 a.m., Manabu was still asleep, clutching his pillow tightly beneath his favorite red blanket like a caterpillar. The newspaper boy rang the bell, jolting him awake. "Newspaper!"
Trudging out of bed, he hurried to retrieve the paper from the delivery boy at the doorstep. He fumbled with the lock and peered outside. The boy was still there. Manabu grabbed the paper and asked about the previous day's newspaper, but the delivery boy said he had delivered every paper on time and to the correct address. He also knew Manabu well as a troublemaker, which was why he always delivered his newspaper first in the whole apartment.
Strange! Manabu thought. Perhaps the neighbor's naughty kids took it. He apologized and let the boy go, heading straight back to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He set the coffee maker to brew while brushing. He lit another stove, set a couple of eggs to half-boil, and rushed to the bathroom.
He washed his hands and cleaned his red eyes, which had turned red due to a mild allergy, though it wasn't serious. Then he made his way to the dining room and poured coffee into his cup with half a teaspoon of sugar. As he ate, he unfolded the newspaper and flipped through its pages. The first few pages held nothing interesting—just the usual chitchat and sports-related news.
In the Global News Section, recent reports covered ongoing conflicts in Lafiaza and protests of Ivanns. Another article detailed Castela's final payment under the'Treaty of 1870'.
According to the report, ("Castela made its final reparations payment of approximately 10 billion Castelian Marks on December 11, 1899—Yesterday—to war-torn nations, including The Empire of Lafiaza, the United Republic of Australasia (URA), and some other allied nations.")
This payment, mandated by the Treaty of 1870, aimed to address damages from the past War of Empires but had worsened poverty in Castela. Manabu personally didn't like the allied nations for their aggressive and dictatorial nature. On the third page, The National News Section, a headline caught his eye:
( "Another Murder by Mr. Santa Claus.")
Curious, he read on, pointing at each line with his finger. The page detailed a gruesome event from that midnight, sometime between 1 to 3 a.m. Three criminals, identified as locals, had been brutally murdered in the neighboring district of Doshiqi. ("All three victims were criminals."Finishing the article while stuffing bread into his mouth, a thought sparked in his mind...
That afternoon, at Taiju's flat, Manabu lounged in Taiju's room, sprawled upside down on the bed, legs dangling over the edge. His mind felt heavy with boredom. Taiju had stepped out to buy snacks, leaving Manabu alone in the quiet room of the apartment.
Mion, Naomi, and Mai were occupied elsewhere: Mion, Naomi, and Mr. Futaba were out shopping for Christmas and New Year celebrations, while Mai was treating herself to a haircut at a beauty salon with other female friends. So, there was no one to talk to. Just then, the door handle clicked, and Taiju entered with a bag of snacks in hand. Without a word, he tossed a packet of chips at Manabu's upside-down face. Too lethargic to react, Manabu didn't even bother catching it, and it patted his face.
"Feeling bored?" Taiju asked, plopping onto his study chair.
Manabu didn't respond. He sat up slowly and sighed continuously—a bad sign. Taiju decided to lighten the mood and said, "Did you catch today's news? There's a serial killer in Doshiqi. Goes by Mr. Santa."
Manabu's eyes flickered with interest. He sat up. "Yup, I've heard about him!"
Taiju continued the chat. "This guy's no joke. He's killed about twelve people in just over two months. And all of them were criminals!"
"Twelve?! I thought nine," Manabu thought.
Taiju opened the drawer of his wooden desk and grabbed a stack of newspapers wrapped tight with a rubber band. Flipping through them, he found the pages he wanted and threw them to Manabu. "Check these out—November 27th and December 5th news."
Manabu hadn't seen these before. He glanced at the dates and realized those were the days he couldn't find his newspapers. He scanned the articles from start to finish and asked, "When did this Santa guy start appearing?"
Taiju rested back in the chair and replied while opening his third packet. "Early winter. Around November, when the first chills hit. In just a month, he'd taken down eight criminals. Not ordinary people, mind you—serious offenders."
Manabu sat up straighter. "So, Mr. Santa only targets criminals and bad people?"
Taiju nodded. "Exactly. But whether he's a vigilante or just a psychopathic murderer, they can't say. Do all bad people deserve to die? Well, No, but in this case? Yes."
"If he only kills criminals, does that make him a hero? Morally speaking?" Manabu mused.
Taiju rubbed his chin and said, " It depended on individual perspective. To me, he's right, but not justice. All his victims were vile. One of them, I can't recall the name, killed and violated women and children. Santa took him out. That guy deserved it, didn't he?"
'Quite an ambitious killer,' Manabu thought. "He kills in different ways, like the punishment fits the crime. There's a saying: 'What you do is what you get.' Maybe this Santa wants to bring peace to society. Or maybe he just enjoys the thrill. A hunter that hunts the hunters."
Taiju began recounting Santa's victims from the start. "November 21st—remember? Mai and I were at the library. That night, two people were found dead: Karu Jouiki and Sora Jouiki. Senior members of a mafia gang. Their bodies were found in an apartment where they were hiding from rival gangs. At first, the police thought it was a gang hit and closed the case in two months."
"Then there was another case of a mother, Ashara Shoko. She's a single mother. Her husband left her, claiming she was narcissistic. They divorced, but their kid stayed with her due to a court ruling. A few months later, an arrest warrant was issued after her younger son called his father for help. According to the news: (Shoko had been abusing her children since the divorce. Her elder son died because she slammed his head against a wall, killing him instantly, while her younger son ended up hospitalized.) "
"Shoko fled, but the father pressed charges. She vanished in September and remained at large until November 30th, when her body was found in an apartment, with many suspects but no leads."
Manabu realised he had a question this morning. "How did the police connect these killings to Santa? These murders happened across the country in different districts. Dicing-roll guesses would be foolish."
Taiju's eyes lit up; he'd totally forgotten to mention one thing, "The gifts! Santa leaves random signature gifts at every crime scene. For example, last night, they found a 'Merry Christmas' note, and at some scenes, a keyed Santa toy that plays 'Jingle Bells'."
The investigation team had revisited earlier cases and found similar gifts, previously overlooked but now a critical clue.
Suddenly Taiju said, "And there are these bloody Lafians."
Manabu looked at Taiju, who was turning furious. "Ivanns better off alone. The almighty knows how long their suffering will go. I wish those bloody Lafians die, the worst way possible," Taiju said.
Manabu noticed the page he had paused on was the yesterday's news where it talked about the Ivann and Lafian thing. Taiju was an Ivann by blood. His grandfather lived in Lafiaza, later shifted here, and now his father and himself live and grew up here. But Taiju has a bond with his race.
Manabu had nothing to say since they had argued multiple times about this, where Manabu was more humanity-sided, and Taiju wished Lafian diminished.
Just then, Mai entered the apartment with a glad face, her short hair freshly styled. "What's going on?" she asked cheerfully. She spun once, expecting them to comment on her appearance, as she appreciated it herself. "How does my new haircut look, Taiju?"
. Taiju turned his face immediately, blushing. Adjusting his glasses, he stammered, "The short hair looks great on you."
Manabu noticed the slight embarrassment he had been expecting. His lips curved into a sly, mischievous smile, fully aware of the situation and the dynamics between these two oddballs. He stepped close to Taiju's ear and whispered mischievously in his left ear, "You LOVED it, didn't you?"
Taiju's face turned even redder, and his emotions grew unsteady. He pushed Manabu back with his right hand. Manabu laughed at both of them, clearly enjoying Taiju's discomfort, while Mai was just confused—as always. "What's going on? Why are you both laughing?! Do I look horrible?!" she asked, her eyes shifting between the two boys.
It's just brotherhood. Quite a wholesome sight. It was December 12th already, just a few days until Christmas, which they had promised to share together. They hoped the New Year would bring light into their lives. For all of them, the New Year symbolized more than just a fresh start—it was the threshold of their futures.
True joy lies not in possessing what we desire, but in cherishing the moments we wish to relive once more.
[1] Christina Town is one of the most beautiful place in Feropia,known for its lifestyle, stunning architectures, and vibrant cultural scene.