"I wonder if you've called your families to make sure they're safe?"
Dongchuan Ichiro's words made Takayama, who had just sat down, stand up again. They knew very well that if Dongchuan Ichiro was not dead, their families would suffer.
"I don't think you would do that."
Matsumoto, standing to the side, tried to force a smile, but it looked worse than crying.
"After all, you really like the cakes my mom makes."
Matsumoto's words reminded Dongchuan Ichiro of his childhood. He often went to Matsumoto's house, where Matsumoto's mother would make the small cakes she was best at to entertain him.
Though the cakes didn't look good, they gave Dongchuan Ichiro a warmth he had never felt within his own family.
In that moment, Dongchuan Ichiro's heart felt like it had been whipped; it tightened up involuntarily.
