Just as Aoko was being swallowed by endless dark thoughts, and the lighthouse named "Light" in her heart was completely extinguished, leaving only resentment for the world and a pathological yearning for a dark home, the air in the room seemed to warp slightly.
There were no footsteps, no sound of the door opening. Like a phantom, a slender figure appeared silently in the shadows of the room's corner, as if he had always been standing there, merged with the darkness.
It was Nakamori Aoko's bloodshot eyes that first caught the outline of that presence. She snapped her head up, her heart stopping for a moment before thumping frantically—it was Kanjuro!
He was still wearing those well-tailored dark clothes. His handsome face was expressionless, save for those deep eyes that flickered with a gloom capable of absorbing all light. He gazed at her quietly, with a sort of all-knowing pity (or rather, the satisfaction of having everything under control).
At this moment, all her defenses, all her struggles, and all her resentment turned into a burst of grievance and fragility.
Like seeing the only piece of driftwood that could understand her pain, Aoko practically crawled and lunged from the bed, throwing herself into Kanjuro's cold yet, at this moment, incredibly "solid" embrace. She hugged him with all her might, as if trying to crush herself into this darkness. The cry she had suppressed for so long finally broke out in a collapse, hoarse and desperate:
"Why... why does no one believe me!!" Her tears soaked Kanjuro's lapel, her voice breaking as she sobbed. "They... they all think I'm dirty, that Father and I... did some unspeakable deal! But I didn't do anything! I just... I just walked out of Father's house! Why do they look at me like that! Why did even Father Nakamori and Kaito lock me up! Why—!!"
She cried out incoherently, venting all her grievances, the injustice, and the pain of being betrayed.
Kanjuro let her hold him, neither comforting her immediately nor pushing her away. He simply raised his hand slowly and, with a near-elegant palm that carried a cold temperature, gently stroked Aoko's violently trembling back. His movements were light, yet they possessed a strange, intoxicating rhythm.
Not until Aoko's crying subsided into suppressed sobs did he slowly speak in that deep, magnetic voice. Every word was like poisoned honey, dripping onto Aoko's shattered heart:
"This is the human heart, Aoko."
His voice was calm and steady, yet it carried a cruel indifference that saw through the world.
"They fear power they cannot understand, envy what they cannot possess, and then use the utmost malice to speculate about existences they cannot control. The fact that you left my territory safely is, in itself, beyond the scope of their narrow cognition. Therefore, they can only fill this ignorance with the filthiest imaginings and project that filth onto you."
He leaned down slightly, close to Aoko's ear. His voice was like a demon's final whisper, carrying an unquestionable certainty:
"This world is just this hypocritical and ugly. So-called family and friendship are fragile in the face of fear and rumors. The 'protection' they give you is, in essence, another form of imprisonment and denial."
His hand lingered in Aoko's hair with a near-patriarchal yet bone-chilling tenderness.
"Now, do you understand? The only one you can trust, the only one willing to truly accept you, is me. Only I will not discriminate against you because of your bloodline, will not abandon you because of outside rumors, and certainly won't... in the name of 'love,' imprison you in this dark, sunless cage."
These words, like the final catalyst, completely dissolved the last trace of Aoko's attachment to the world of light.
She looked up, her eyes watery as she gazed at Kanjuro's face so close to her own. In those bloodshot eyes, the previous struggle, pain, and confusion were gradually replaced by a twisted, religious-like fervor, as if she had found a faith.
He was right... everyone had abandoned her, doubted her, and imprisoned her. Only he, the biological father who gave her the dark bloodline, appeared in her most desperate hour to offer "understanding" and "acceptance."
She nodded vigorously, as if to carve this realization into the depths of her soul. Her voice was tearful but exceptionally clear, speaking with a near-vow-like piety:
"Father... you are absolutely right!"
This time, the title "Father" no longer held any hesitation or fear. Instead, it was filled with dependence, validation, and a desperate determination to plunge into the darkness.
She hugged Kanjuro back tightly, as if grasping her only lifeline, and... embracing her inescapable, dark fate.
In the unseen shadows, a deep and pleased curve slowly formed at the corners of Kanjuro's mouth.
The prey finally stopped struggling and willingly fell into the hunter's embrace. He had successfully used the world's malice and the "love" of her closest kin to push his daughter completely into the dark abyss. And Aoko's corruption was officially complete at this moment. She was no longer the girl who craved light and understanding, but was about to become another dangerous pawn in Kanjuro's Dark Empire, armed with hatred and despair. After Aoko tightly hugged Kanjuro like a drowning person clutching a straw, completely identifying with his dark logic of "human hearts are ugly, only I am trustworthy," Kanjuro knew the final moment had ripened. He needed a Token of loyalty, an ultimate proof that would completely tear Aoko away from her past, stain her hands with blood, and leave her with no way back.
He gently pushed Aoko from his embrace, but his hands still held her shoulders. His gaze, like a precision probe, looked directly into her bloodshot eyes, which were a mix of dependence, fervor, and lingering pain.
"Aoko, since you've acknowledged me as your father and are willing to trust me, then..." Kanjuro's voice was low and filled with temptation, as if guiding her through a sacred ritual. "I hope you can do one thing for me. One thing... that will completely prove you belong here, that you belong to me."
Aoko looked up, like the most devout believer, and asked without hesitation, "What is it? Father, as long as you say the word, I'm willing!"
The corners of Kanjuro's mouth curled into an extremely cold arc. He slowly raised his right hand, and as if by magic, a small pistol with a cold metallic glint appeared in his palm. He handed this weapon, a symbol of slaughter and betrayal, to Aoko.
"Use it," Kanjuro's voice was clear and cruel, without a trace of emotion, "to kill Kaito Kuroba, and... Nakamori Ginzo."
!!!
As if struck by a bolt of lightning, the fanaticism and dependence on Aoko's face instantly froze! Her pupils shrank violently as she looked at the cold weapon before her in disbelief, then looked up at Kanjuro's face, which held no hint of a joke.
Kill Kaito? Kill... Father Nakamori?!
Those two names were like two giant pillars deeply rooted in her life. Even in her most resentful and desperate moments, she had never truly thought of destroying them completely!
"No... I..." Aoko jerked her hand back as if burned, not taking the gun. She stumbled back a step, shaking her head violently, the blood draining from her face. Her newly established dark faith clashed violently with the remnants of her real-world emotions. "I... I can't... They... I need time... I can't... make up my mind right now..."
Her voice was incoherent, filled with immense panic and struggle. A glimmer of reason flickered for the last time, tenaciously, amidst the mad tide of darkness—it was an emotional imprint accumulated over more than a decade of daily companionship that could not be easily erased!
Kanjuro was not surprised by her violent reaction, nor did he pressure her. Instead, he slowly withdrew the pistol, a look of "understanding" and almost "tolerance" appearing on his face.
"Hesitation is normal, Aoko." His tone was calm, like a patient elder. "After all, they were once an important part of your life. To completely cut off the past requires great courage and determination."
He took a step forward and gently placed the pistol on the bedside table next to them. The cold metal emitted an ominous glint in the dim light.
"I won't force you. This gun stays here." His gaze once again looked deep into Aoko's chaotic eyes. "I'll give you time to think. When you truly understand who your only home is, and who is worthy of your loyalty... you'll know what to do."
After saying this, Kanjuro spoke no more, not even glancing at the gun again, as if it were a trivial object. He turned, his figure merging into the shadows as he vanished silently from the room once more, leaving Aoko alone, panting heavily in front of the weapon left in plain sight.
The room was terrifyingly silent.
Aoko's gaze was uncontrollably and firmly drawn to the gun. The cold metal reflected the weak light, its lines sleek and lethal. A mixture of fear and... an indescribable, dark sense of excitement surged from the base of her spine, instantly spreading throughout her body!
Trembling, she slowly reached out her hand—not to take the gun, but to gently touch the cold barrel with her fingertips as if caressing a lover. A shivering, twisted pleasure of controlling the life and death of others, accompanied by a massive sense of guilt, simultaneously assaulted her nerves.
Kill them... kill those who betrayed you, imprisoned you, and denied you... As long as you pull the trigger, you can completely prove your loyalty to Father, and completely embrace the power and 'freedom' bestowed by the darkness... This thought echoed wildly in her mind like a demonic voice, tempting her.
But at the same time, Kaito's laughing face in the sunlight and the image of Nakamori Ginzo's clumsy but warm care flashed inappropriately, like a final rope pulling at her soul as it prepared to fall into the abyss.
"Ah—!" She let out a painful, low growl like a trapped beast, clutching her head tightly. She trembled violently in the battle between desire and conscience, her eyes alternately crazed, pained, and confused.
She looked at the gun, her eyes full of struggle, but deep within them, the yearning for and identification with darkness that Kanjuro had personally ignited was growing brighter and brighter.
Kanjuro had left, but the seeds he had sown had already taken root. He understood her current state better than Aoko did herself. That brief hesitation was not a firm rejection, but the final, fragile buffer before a collapse. He was certain that, driven by extreme resentment, despair, and the longing for a sense of belonging in the dark, this cold gun would soon become burning hot.
Aoko stood at the crossroads of fate. On one side was the remaining humanity and warm memories; on the other was the temptation of darkness and a bloody "vow of loyalty." Her reason was crumbling, and her final resistance seemed so insignificant before the boundless tide of darkness.
The countdown to slaughter seemed to have quietly begun within her chaotic heartbeat. Kanjuro was in no hurry to wait for the result from Aoko's side. He understood the human heart and knew that the seed nourished by resentment and despair would bear the evil fruit he desired after a short wait. By contrast, another "daughter" who shared his blood but was trying to resist needed his personal "attention."
The night was deep, and the moonlight was broken into pieces by the dense forest. Kanjuro's figure was like a ghost, silently crossing the magical barrier that ordinary people could not detect, stepping into Akako Koizumi's Gothic castle hidden deep in the mountain forest.
Inside the castle, dim candlelight cast flickering shadows on the walls. In a secret room filled with ancient bookshelves and an air permeated with the scent of herbs and parchment, Akako Koizumi was hunched over a huge ancient tome that required magic to flip its heavy pages.
Her purplish-red hair was somewhat messy, and her habitually proud ruby eyes were now bloodshot and solemn. The terrible life story revealed by the Magic Mirror haunted her like a nightmare, but she had not collapsed like Aoko. Instead, she had transformed all her shock and confusion into stronger determination and action—she had to find a way to oppose Kanjuro and the dark bloodline curse!
Obscure ancient runes shimmered on the pages, recording various Scarlet Magic techniques for opposing darkness and purifying evil. A faint red magical light lingered around her fingertips as she tried to find a way to restrain the power of the "dark bible," her expression so focused that she didn't even notice the arrival of an uninvited guest.
"...By the covenant of holy fire, dispel the shadows... No, the level isn't high enough..."
"...Soul shackles, bind evil thoughts... It also seems unable to reach the source..."
She muttered to herself, her brow furrowed. The anxiety in her heart and the urgency of racing against time made her almost breathless.
Just as she was fully concentrated—
Creeeeeak—
The heavy door of the secret room, inscribed with protective runes, was actually pushed open slowly by an invisible force without being touched.
Akako Koizumi was startled and instantly looked up from the ancient tome, her vigilant gaze shooting toward the door like an arrow!
In the flickering shadows of the candlelight, a tall and slender figure was lazily leaning against the doorframe. He wore simple dark clothing, looking out of place in this secret room filled with the atmosphere of the occult. His handsome face bore that familiar, playful, and demonic smile that seemed to see through everything.
It was Kanjuro!
"It seems my dear daughter is troubled by how to deal with her father?" Kanjuro's voice broke the silence of the secret room, ringing out slowly with a hint of banter.
Akako Koizumi's pupils shrank, and her heart felt as if it were being gripped tightly by an invisible hand! Almost as a reflex, she sprang from her chair, and a strong scarlet magical glow instantly erupted around her, wrapping her like a burning flame, filled with wariness and hostility.
"Kanjuro! Why are you here?!" Her voice was somewhat shrill with shock. "How could you possibly break through my barrier?!"
Kanjuro didn't care at all about her stance as if facing a great enemy. He even took a leisurely step into this magical sanctuary of hers. His gaze swept over the surrounding bookshelves, passed over the open huge ancient tome, and finally fixed on Akako Koizumi's beautiful face, which was filled with alarm, anger, and disbelief.
"Your barrier?" Kanjuro chuckled, his tone carrying undisguised contempt. "Akako, you seem to have forgotten that half of the power flowing in your body originates from me. Your magic, in my eyes, is transparent. In this world, very few barriers can block my path, especially... one set up by my own bloodline."
He approached step by step. The powerful pressure originating from the dark bible spread like a tide, easily suppressing the burning Scarlet Magic around Akako Koizumi, making her feel a suffocating sensation of difficulty breathing.
"As for why I'm here..." Kanjuro stopped a few steps away from her, his gaze looking deeply at her. "Naturally, I've come to see how my daughter, who is attempting 'patricide,' is preparing."
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