"Ah—give me a cup of love water, in exchange for one night without tears! Let the rain and wind blow away all my sincerity, for the love I've given can never be taken back! Give me a cup of love water, in exchange for a lifetime without sorrow! Even if I get drunk, even if I'm heartbroken, you'll never see me cry!!"
The heart-wrenching song continued to echo through the room. It was a piece steeped in the flavor of another era. In a small Far Eastern town like this, one might not expect to find such an old-fashioned track still available. Well… technically, in this timeline, the song had only just been released—so perhaps it could still pass as "fashionable"? Still, no matter how you listened, the performance carried a distinct air of off-key self-expression.
At the KTV table, a short girl sat draped in a fur-and-feather-covered coat studded with rivets, a plastic skull mask painted with fluorescent patterns over her face, an Afro wig perched on her head, and an elaborate Native-style headdress for good measure.
If Aslan were here, he might have been impressed—perhaps even horrified—by Hinako's bizarre ensemble. It had the potential to influence a generation of middle-school boys into adopting equally questionable "non-mainstream" fashion.
Come to think of it, this girl might very well set a global trend for eccentric dressing. Microphone in hand, stand before her, she sang with such abandon that blood-red flames swirled around her—looking for all the world like some over-the-top stage effect.
"Ah—give me a cup of love water! In exchange for one night without tears—!!"
The chorus returned with all the subtlety of a freight train. Her voice was like metal nails dragged across an old chalkboard… like the screech of a microphone feeding back into a speaker… or perhaps like peanut butter left in a public restroom—utterly wrong in every conceivable way. Goosebumps erupted from the base of the spine to the scalp of anyone unfortunate enough to hear it.
Merlin sat slumped on the sofa, clutching an accompaniment instrument. He wore his usual smile, but his eyes were vacant, the petal-like appendages behind his ears visibly wilted. If his thoughts could be heard, they would surely be along the lines of: What crime have I committed to deserve this punishment? What terrible sin brought me to this fate? He regretted ever manifesting as a Servant. This sound… this thing would haunt his dreams for months, perhaps years—or decades.
Even the illusory flowers at Merlin's feet had transformed into chibi versions of himself, each one wailing into its hands.
Why can I feel such deep heartbreak in this song when I'm not even in a relationship?
Merlin might have been baffled, but the truth was simple: he was directly bearing the full brunt of her singing.
Far away in the Tower of Paradise, Fou—watching the Holy Grail War broadcast—had every hair stand on end. She slapped the switch with one paw, shutting everything off before curling into her nest to recover.
It was fortunate that this age had long left behind the Age of Gods. Otherwise, such a song might well have birthed some monstrous spirit or curse on the spot.
This was also why Aslan refused to act alongside his senior. He'd been the one to suggest she find a hobby, but should he be forced to witness the results firsthand, it would be impossible to hide his honest reaction.
Not that he'd ever imagined she would fall in love with death rock. Extreme emotional expression was one thing—when paired with an upbeat pop tune, it became something else entirely.
Aslan had never heard her sing before. He relied solely on the Pendragon family's hereditary intuition, which had always warned him—without fail—to decline her KTV invitations.
Meanwhile, in the ventilation ducts above, the advancing Assassins nearly let their weapons clatter against the metal in shock. One particularly sensitive clone made the drastic decision to deafen itself, but even that couldn't protect them from the voice's soul-deep corrosion.
It was the first time Hassan's clones had felt such an overwhelming urge to kill a target immediately. Reaching the point where the song's force was strongest, they burst from the ducts like dumplings from a pot.
If one were to use a crude metaphor, it would be: "long buildup, sudden release."
The first clone twisted in mid-air, blade flashing toward the thousand-year-old girl still belting out her deathly ballad. A swift stroke—then nothing. No resistance. The target dissolved into drifting petals.
They had been deceived from the very start. Hinako's flamboyant arrival had only been possible because Merlin's illusions completely masked the area. The Assassins had never once tracked their true location.
Not that stabbing her would have made much difference—being a Chinese immortal, a little death was hardly an inconvenience.
Before they could regroup, a crushing force slammed into them. One clone was driven so hard into the wall that it embedded there like a grotesque decoration.
-End Chapter-
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