(Kuchiba Hiro strode toward the heavy solid wood door of the villa. The end of his revenge was within reach, but there were no ripples in his heart, only a cold, dead silence.
On his right fist, a black-gold luster rapidly spread and covered it; the Hardening was complete. Without a moment's hesitation, he threw a punch at the door lock!
"Boom!!"
The heavy wooden door, as if struck by a battering ram, instantly shattered into pieces with wood chips flying everywhere! Amidst the swirling dust, Kuchiba Hiro stepped over the broken door panels and entered the villa.
In stark contrast to the intensity and ruin outside, the interior of the villa was a spacious and bright living room. The decor was not luxurious, but it exuded a simple, ancient beauty, with every detail showcasing the owner's taste. A faint scent of tea permeated the air.
At the tea table in the center of the living room, a dignified and elegant woman in a blue and white kimono sat quietly. She seemed completely oblivious to the earth-shattering battle outside and the intruder who had broken in, or perhaps, she had long expected this moment. No panic could be seen on her face, only an introverted calm.
Kuchiba Hiro had seen the files and recognized her —Yota Yukinoshita's wife, Yukinoshita Ayano.
He walked straight toward her, his armor making a dull thud as it met the floor, breaking the silence of the room. Without any redundant pleasantries or threats, he spoke directly, his voice cold and raspy through the visor:
"Call Yota Yukinoshita here."
Ayano slowly put down her teacup, her movements still elegant and composed. She looked up at the oppressive black armor before her and replied unhurriedly, "I've already contacted him. He said... he has some 'work-related matters' to hand over and process, so he might be a little late."
She even leaned slightly to the side and made a "please" gesture, pointing to the cushion across the tea table.
"Why not sit down and have a cup of tea while you wait for him?"
"'Work-related matters to hand over...'" These few words were like poison needles, instantly piercing the most sensitive and hateful nerve in Kuchiba Hiro's heart. His clenched fist let out a faint "creak" from the force, a cold light flashed in his eyes, and a violent murderous intent almost broke through his reason.
But in the end, he forcibly suppressed the impulse. He did not drink the tea, nor did he respond to her invitation; he didn't even look at her again. He simply stood there silently as before, his gaze through the visor fixed on a point in the void, transforming into a silent and oppressive black statue.
Ayano was not surprised by his disregard and indifference, her face still maintaining that elegant, proper, and faint smile. For whatever purpose, she spoke, her voice terrifyingly steady:
"My two daughters are in the bedroom over there." Her slender finger pointed gently toward a door at the end of the hallway. "How do you plan... to deal with our family?"
Kuchiba Hiro remained silent, as if he hadn't heard her.
Ayano showed no sign of fear or entreaty, continuing on her own: "Could it be... you only want to kill my husband?" She paused, her tone even carrying a hint of eerie gratitude. "If that's the case, then I should say thank you. Thank you for... being merciful and not harming my two daughters."
She leaned forward slightly, her gaze seemingly trying to penetrate the cold visor, her voice lowered with a certain probing and inducement:
"You... won't harm them, right?"
This sentence, which seemed to be pleading for her daughters, was like a fuse that finally ignited Kuchiba Hiro's reaction. He snapped his gaze toward her, his eyes behind the visor sharp as knives, his voice carrying a bone-chilling coldness:
"Are you reminding me... to pull up the roots and eliminate the source, Madam?"
A subtle and charming smile bloomed on Ayano's face, and then, she actually nodded slowly, admitting it!
"Yes."
She continued to explain, as if stating a fact that had nothing to do with her: "I know... I know the work my husband is doing." The corners of her eyes curved slightly, her tone carrying a hint of feigned apology. "I'll say sorry to you on his behalf first."
Then her tone shifted, her voice becoming clear and calm:
"But this isn't entirely his fault. He's just doing his 'job,' a 'cog' in the system, an 'employee' following orders." She looked up, staring directly at Kuchiba Hiro. "The ones who truly killed your father are those high above, giving the orders —the 'Organization' that made all these decisions. My husband... he is nothing more than an 'executioner'."
Her words were like a cold scalpel, precisely dissecting the cruel reality:
"Even if you kill him, there will soon be another 'him' to take his place. The number of people sacrificed won't decrease because of it, and the people who caused all this will still sit behind the scenes, resting easy."
Kuchiba Hiro remained silent, the visor cutting off all his expressions. Only the cold black armor shimmered under the indoor lights, like a truly heartless killing machine.
Yukinoshita Ayano looked at his lack of reaction, as if afraid he wouldn't hear the shocking subtext in her words. She was no longer subtle, but used a clearer, even somewhat inflammatory tone to bluntly "point the way" for him:
"Don't you understand?" She tilted her head slightly, a nearly crazed expression of "wisdom" on her face. "The object of your true revenge shouldn't be —or rather, shouldn't just be —as simple as my husband."
Her voice gradually rose, carrying a fervor as if revealing the "truth":
"It was those in power who set this plan! It was the people elected by the voters of this country who made this policy! It was 'people'—greedy, selfish, short-sighted 'people'—who created this man-eating plan! It is everyone in the world who acquiesced, participated, or benefited from it, who are collectively executing this plan!"
She spread her hands in an all-encompassing gesture, her eyes burning as she stared at Kuchiba Hiro:
"How could your revenge be limited to a small family like ours? You should... be more thorough!" As she spoke, she intentionally clicked her tongue twice, her tone light and cruel. "In that case, you'll have your hands full."
She stood up and proposed in a tone that was almost urging:
"So, you should kill us immediately. Otherwise... isn't wasting time with us here delaying your 'grand' cause of revenge too much?"
"Clang—!"
A slight sound of metal friction rang out. The armor at Kuchiba Hiro's wrist liquefied again, condensing into a cold, shimmering blade. His voice came through the visor, unreadable as anger, mockery, or any other emotion, as he asked very flatly:
"Do you want to die that badly?"
Facing the imminent threat of death, Ayano did not retreat; instead, she walked fearlessly up to Kuchiba Hiro. A half-smile appeared on her face, with a clearly mocking curve.
"Then come." She tilted her head back, exposing her slender and fragile neck completely to the blade, her tone carrying a martyr-like provocation. "Kill me and prove your determination for revenge! Then, go and kill those in power, kill all the accomplices under their system, destroy this country that breeds evil, and finally... destroy the ugly human race itself that gave birth to all of this!"
Kuchiba Hiro's breathing suddenly became heavy. Under the visor, his eyes widened, and his pupils constricted slightly.
Ayano's words were like a twisted battering ram, forcibly prying at the hatred he was unwilling to face. This was more bizarre and powerful than any sword or magic attack!
Seeing him still standing frozen, the mockery on Ayano's face grew even stronger. She shook her head gently and said in a tone filled with pity and contempt:
"If you don't do this... then you are nothing more than a... pathetic worm who can't find his true enemy and can only vent his anger on weaklings like us."
Before she had even finished speaking, she made a move that caught Kuchiba Hiro off guard—
She actually raised her hand and, elegantly and slowly, untied the sash of her kimono. The fine blue and white kimono slid down to both sides, revealing the plain Juban inside and a large expanse of snowy-white, delicate skin on her neck and collarbone.
Instead of fear, she leaned her most fragile neck toward Kuchiba Hiro in a nearly sacrificial posture, her voice carrying a strange raspiness and temptation:
"Then come... you can do whatever you want."
Slaughter or defilement? She seemed to be saying that either way, it would only be proof of his incompetent rage.)
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