"My dear son..." She began, her tone sickeningly soft. "There's no need to glare at me so violently. I simply did what needed to be done."
Her smile twitched. She dug her nails deeper into her palms, hiding the blood that dripped freely now.
"A good boy shouldn't live in lies. A good boy shouldn't bury himself in secrets. And you, my child...you have told so many lies, haven't you? And so I was only correcting your mistakes. Revealing the truth for you. So you would carry no sin."
Kafka's expression didn't shift, but the rage was building and Vanitas could feel it, seeping out of him in waves of heat, pressing against her skin like a growing storm about to break.
And seeing that it was going according to plan, he let out a trembling laugh and continued, forcing the blade in deeper.
"That's why I did it, you see? Now, you can be free. No more lies, no more deceit. You can keep your...precious relationship, without the weight of deception—"
