Kashima stumbled back, his slippers sliding on the marble. Seijurou didn't even look at him as a son; he turned to the butler with arrogant disgust. "Is this how you run my house? Servants grabbing me whenever they want? Have you lost control?!"
"Master, please—" the butler said quickly. "That is your son—"
"My son?" Seijurou laughed, bitter and loud. "I didn't call for a servant with her eyes."
The words cut deep.
The butler bowed his head slightly. "Forgive him, Young Master," he whispered, his voice heavy with shame. "He is not himself."
Seijurou leaned forward again, barely able to stand. "Take me upstairs," he said. "I'm tired of this house."
The butler nodded and guided him away. As they moved toward the stairs, he glanced back at Kashima. His eyes were full of apology.
Then they were gone.
The hall fell silent again.
Kashima stood alone in the dark. His collarbone burned like fire. He pressed a hand to his chest, breathing slowly, trying to steady himself. His fingers shook.
He walked back to the counter and threw the bottle down with a sharp thud.
"Son of a bitch!" he shouted, his voice low and shaking. He rubbed the spot where his father had shoved him, anger and pain mixing in his chest. "You loud, pathetic… son of a bitch."
He did not wait for the house to settle. The image of his father's drunk, mocking face was burned into his mind was a reminder he couldn't ignore. He turned and marched toward the main entrance.
Before he could reach the heavy wooden doors, they swung open with a rush of freezing air.
Two butlers hurried inside, their movements rushed. These were men who were usually invisible and perfect, but now their faces were pale, and their eyes darted around in panic.
One of them almost tripped over his own feet as he crossed the entrance.
"Young Master—!" the first butler gasped, his voice thin and high.
The second man glanced over his shoulder at the darkness outside before pulling the door nearly shut. His fingers trembled as they gripped the handle. "Please don't go out, Young Master," he said, his voice cracking.
"It's… it's very cold outside. Far too cold."
"Yes," the other added, stepping into Kashima's path. He reached out with a shaky hand. "You should stay inside. It's not safe right now. Please, return to your room."
They both moved at once, trying to block him. One caught Kashima's arm, and the other placed a desperate hand on his shoulder.
Kashima turned his head and looked at them. His blue eyes were sharp, cutting through their panic like glass.
The butlers froze. The grip on his arm loosened as if they had touched a hot stove.
He pulled his arm free in one hard, violent move. "Don't touch me," he said quietly. His voice didn't rise, but it was heavy with a dangerous authority. "And don't forget your place in this house."
The butlers stepped back instantly. Their shoulders dropped, and their heads lowered in shame and fear.
Kashima didn't wait for another word. He pushed the heavy door open and walked out into the night.
The cold air hit his face like a slap, but he barely felt it. The front of the mansion was bathed in a soft, yellow glow from the garden lights. And right there, idling just in front of the stone steps, a car stood like a dark beast.
A black Mercedes. Its long, polished body usually looked like a symbol of power and control, a car for a man who ruled empires. But as Kashima walked closer, the golden light revealed a horrific sight.
The front of the car was ruined.
A huge, ugly dent covered the hood. The expensive metal was crushed and bent inward, twisted as if it had hit something solid with terrifying force. The silver emblem on the front was broken and gone.
Kashima's breath caught in his throat.
He stepped closer, his heart beating against his ribs. He reached out, his fingers trembling as he placed his hand on the jagged, damaged metal. His skin felt something wet. It was thick and sticky.
He frowned, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach. He pulled his hand back and brought it closer to his face in the dim light.
He smelled it. That sharp, metallic scent that he had smelled only in nightmares.
His eyes widened, and he felt a wave of nausea.
Slowly, his gaze drifted down to the small stones beneath the car. The ground was dark and wet. A thick, shimmering pool was spreading out from under the engine, shining like black ink under the garden lights.
BLOOD.
A lot of blood.
Kashima's heart started pounding so hard it hurt. He took a stumbling step back, his eyes darting from the crushed metal to the red stain on the earth.
"…What?" he whispered, the word disappearing into the wind.
His hand began to shake uncontrollably. He gripped his own wrist, staring at the car, then back at the door where his father had just disappeared.
'Father…'
The thought hit him like a physical blow.
'He hit someone. He drove home like this.'
His chest felt so tight he couldn't catch his breath. His mind raced through the possibilities, each one worse than the last.
'Who was it?
A stranger on the road?
A servant in the driveway?
A passerby in the dark?'
'Are they lying out there somewhere? Are they alive… or dead?'
Kashima stood frozen in the center of the driveway, the cold night air pressing against his skin like a shroud. The truth sank in slowly, heavy and poisonous.
The perfect family. The perfect house.
'Are they lying out there somewhere?
Are they alive… or dead?'
_THE NEXT DAY_
The morning was cold and grey. A thick layer of clouds covered the sky, blocking out the sun and making the world look dim. It was not raining yet, but the air felt heavy. A chilly wind swept through the empty streets, carrying the scent of wet stone.
In front of the tall, iron gates of Kami High School, two students stood waiting.
One of them was Kento Kamitani. He wore his school uniform with his hands crossed tightly over his chest to stay warm. His dark, brownish-black hair was being tossed around by the wind, and his green eyes looked tired, as if he hadn't slept at all. He stared at the school entrance with a blank, dull expression.
"Huh..." Kento muttered, his voice disappearing into the wind.
Standing next to him was Shido Kirishima. His dark blue hair was messy from the breeze, and his light blue eyes were fixed on the school's main door. He looked confused, scratching the back of his head as he tried to make sense of why the gates were still locked.
He stepped closer to the notice board, where a large white paper was taped to the glass.
"Dear students," Shido read aloud. "Kindly note that the school is closed today..."
His voice faded away as he saw a smaller piece of paper pinned below the first one. It had a thick black border around the edges.
'Due to the sudden and tragic passing of one of our students, Kami High School will be closed today. We ask that all students and staff take this time to mourn. Our deepest thoughts are with the family.'
A heavy silence fell between the two boys. Shido took a step back, his eyes wide as he looked at Kento.
"A student died?" Shido asked, his voice low. "Just like that? That's... that's crazy."
Kento didn't respond immediately. He was staring at the black-bordered paper, his mind seemingly far away. He slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He dialed a number and held the device to his ear, turning away from the wind.
"Hori? It's me," Kento said into the phone. "Don't come to school. It's closed."
He paused, listening to the girl on the other end.
"There's a notice on the gate," Kento continued, his voice flat. "They said a student died. They want everyone home to mourn. Just stay back."
He hung up and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He looked at the empty school buildings, which looked cold and lifeless under the cloudy sky.
Shido leaned against the metal bars of the gate, looking at the notice one more time.
"They didn't even put a name," Shido muttered, his brow furrowing. "I wonder who it was. Was it someone too close the whole
school... Who could have died?"
The wind gave a sharp whistle through the iron bars, but the school remained silent, hiding its secrets behind the locked doors.
The grey morning felt heavy as Kento and Shido turned away from the iron gate of Kami High School. A cold wind slipped into their uniforms, making them shiver. Kento exhaled slowly, watching the white mist of his breath fade into the air. "A student died…"
The words from the notice board echoed in his head. A second-year girl. No name. No face. Only silence.
---
SNEEK PEAK LINES
"Three in the morning. Exactly 3:00 AM."
"Is that... where it happened?"
---