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Chapter 14 - 14

Satoru Sato, regaining some strength, dragged his weakened body to the bathroom door and knocked gently.

"Megumi, come turn yourself in with me," he said, leaning tiredly against the doorframe, his face pale.

"I'm not Kawashima Megumi. Stop calling me that," Akira's voice was still unstable, almost hysterical.

Satoru froze for a moment, then forced a faint, helpless smile. "You are Megumi. No matter what you've become, I'll always recognize you."

"I said I'm not!" Akira suddenly flung the door open. A cold glint flashed in his hand—a dagger instantly pressed against Satoru's throat. Akira's breathing grew erratic, his eyes filled with a storm of conflicting emotions—rage, confusion, pain, and something deeply buried.

"Megumi… I'm sorry." Though blood began trickling from his neck, Satoru smiled with quiet acceptance. He gently reached up to smooth Akira's bangs. "That day, Misaki Suzuki told me she wanted to get you a gift but didn't know what you liked. She asked me to go pick it with her for a surprise. I believed her, so I went. I always wanted to explain to you, but you never gave me the chance. I don't blame you. I just want you to know… I never betrayed you. Megumi, you've always been important to me."

From the side, Hinata Haru yawned theatrically. "Are you guys done yet? Idol, I never pegged you as the sentimental type. So are you going to kill him or not? What if you let him go and he reports you to the cops? Then you'll be in real trouble."

Akira's gaze darkened. His grip tightened around the dagger. Satoru grunted in pain and collapsed to the floor. In the distance, police sirens echoed through the villa.

Hinata Haru scoffed, "So much for deep love, huh? In the end, he still tried to hand you over. Idol, idol… so many heroes have fallen for 'love'—don't be one of them. I'd lose all respect for you."

Akira glanced at the dagger in his hand and let out a cold laugh. "Love?" he whispered bitterly. "All it ever was... was cowardice and betrayal." Then he swiftly moved back into the living room, hoisted Misaki Suzuki's corpse onto his shoulder, and vanished into the woods, shrouded by the night. Hinata, sensing trouble, also slipped away. By the time the police arrived, it was too late—only blood and corpses remained.

The carnage was overwhelming. Some officers were so disturbed they bent over and vomited. Even veteran Detective Watanabe couldn't stay composed. He slammed his fist into a marble wall in fury. A forensic investigator quickly examined the scene. The metallic scent of blood filled the air, driving everyone close to madness.

"The blood's still warm," the forensics expert concluded. "The killer must've just left—couldn't have gone far."

Watanabe's eyes narrowed. "Fan out! Search the surrounding woods! We cannot let the killer escape again!"

The forensic expert pulled off his blood-soaked gloves and gestured to a corpse on the ground. "The depth and angle of the wounds indicate a sharp, small dagger. Very skilled technique, fast and precise. Especially on this male victim—" he pointed to the boy who had strangled Misaki earlier, "—his arm was cleanly sliced with no hesitation. The killer was calm. Surgical."

Watanabe clenched his fists. "It's the same technique as the earlier cases. This time, we have to catch her."

"Kawashima Megumi," he muttered with icy conviction, as if the name had weighed on him forever.

"Captain Watanabe!" a young officer called out. "We found fresh blood near the villa—it leads into the forest. Likely the killer's trail."

"Pursue it! Don't let her get away!"

In the forest, under the cover of night, Akira quickly stashed Misaki's corpse in a hidden shrub. His face was expressionless, but his eyes radiated sharp vigilance. He leaned behind a large tree, breathing quietly, waiting for the next move.

Flashlights flickered in the distance, their beams unstable. Akira didn't move, using the darkness as his shield. Then, faint footsteps and murmured voices reached his ears—someone was getting close.

Elsewhere, Hinata Haru rolled his eyes as he clung to a tree in another thicket. "This time you've really gone all out, idol. Ugh, I hate getting involved in this mess." Checking the time on his phone, he heard the police nearing and reluctantly slinked deeper into the woods.

"There's signs of trampled grass—the killer's nearby!" Watanabe's voice crackled through a radio, filled with determination.

Akira remained still behind the tree, watching the coordinated sweep. His gaze sharpened, calculating. Watanabe was getting closer.

Suddenly, a nauseating stench wafted through the air. Watanabe, scanning with his flashlight, gagged at the smell. Then, with a sickening thud, a corpse dropped from above—right at his feet.

It was Misaki Suzuki.

Her face was grotesquely mutilated. One side had a deep slash from a blade, barely resembling her former self. Her eye had been gouged out and dangled grotesquely, ready to fall. Her tongue hung limply from her mouth, torn out at the root. Blood soaked her chest, her abdomen was torn open, innards spilling out in a vile heap. Her limbs twisted at unnatural angles—like a discarded ragdoll.

Watanabe gasped and tightened his grip on his gun. The cruelty of it left no doubt—it was Kawashima Megumi's doing. Or rather… whoever now called herself "Kawashima Akira."

"Damn it…" he muttered, anger and dread swirling in his chest.

Then—a cold, almost amused voice echoed from the darkness.

"Mr. Watanabe, what's wrong? Scared?" The voice came from behind.

He whirled around.

Akira stood behind him, ghostlike. Her pale face, faint smirk, and eyes sharp enough to pierce bone radiated quiet malice.

"Kawashima Megumi…" Watanabe growled, gun raised.

"Oh? You still remember my sister's name?" Akira sneered, glancing dismissively at the gun. "Let me tell you a secret. I'm not Kawashima Megumi. I'm Kawashima Akira. My sister is dead. I'm just here to finish what she couldn't."

"You're spouting nonsense! Stop this and come with me. If you keep going, you'll destroy yourself!" Watanabe's voice cracked with emotion.

"Destroy?" Akira stepped closer, ignoring the gun. "The ones who deserve destruction are the ones who ruined her. I'm just balancing the scales."

"You're past saving! You feel no remorse?!" Watanabe roared, pointing to Misaki's desecrated corpse.

"Remorse?" Akira's eyes turned to steel. "If you'd been crushed and humiliated again and again like we were, would you ask that question?"

Watanabe fired. Akira vanished.

In a flash, she was beside him, disarming him with a vicious kick. The gun flew into the underbrush.

They clashed, hand-to-hand. Watanabe was strong and experienced, but Akira was faster—fluid and deadly like a viper. She exploited every opening, attacking with surgical precision.

Eventually, Watanabe faltered. Akira struck his gut with her knee, then slammed him to the ground, her dagger pressing to his throat.

"You lost, Mr. Watanabe." Akira panted, smiling coldly as the blade drew blood.

Watanabe, defiant, rasped, "Kill me, but it won't change anything… the law will catch up to you."

Akira's eyes narrowed. "Maybe. But too bad—you won't be the one to stop me."

She stared at him, no pity in her gaze.

"Since you're not a bad man, I'll make it quick. You really think the law protects justice?" She scoffed. "You're all cowards, hiding behind rules. But with me, it ends."

Bleeding, Watanabe met her gaze. "Your hatred will consume you. You can't escape judgment."

"I told you," Akira whispered, "I'm not Kawashima Megumi. She's dead. I'm Akira. And I'll make them all pay—starting with you."

"You can't run forever," Watanabe said weakly. "The truth will drag you down."

Akira smiled faintly, stepping away, spinning her dagger. "I'm already in the abyss. Now I'm just dragging others in with me."

And with that, she disappeared into the woods.

Paramedics lifted Watanabe onto a stretcher. Sirens flashed. But Akira was already gone, a phantom once more.

She moved swiftly through the forest, heart pounding. The wind chilled her skin. Sirens drew nearer, but she felt only emptiness.

She thought of her sister's smile, now lost forever.

"I thought revenge would bring peace," she whispered. "But all I feel is… nothing."

Her dagger trembled in her hand. Even that, once her closest companion, now felt too heavy to hold.

"Big sister…" she murmured. "Would you want me to keep going?"

She thought of stopping.

And finally, she did.

Putting the dagger away, Akira turned toward the flashing lights. Each step lightened her soul. The monster called "Kawashima Akira" began to fade, leaving behind a soul desperate to end the nightmare.

She stepped into the light.

"There she is!" a cop shouted.

Akira didn't resist. She knelt, let them cuff her. Her head bowed, her hair hiding her face—but her eyes were calm.

It was over.

And for the first time, Akira felt at peace.

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