Ghostly blue flames danced wildly in the basement of the Old School Building, making the ancient runes on the walls look like living things.
Takashiro Hiroko backed away in terror, her gaze shifting between Kanjuro and Kitami, finally turning into a powerless sigh as she fled in a panic with the other female members.
"Kanjuro, hurry and leave!" she cried out one last time through the thick smoke, but she only saw the man's indifferent back.
Aozaki Sakuya dragged her exhausted body up the stairs with difficulty. The last scene she saw when she looked back would be unforgettable for the rest of her life—Kanjuro and Kitami embracing naked amidst the sea of fire, as if the destructive flames were merely a backdrop to their union.
She knew that the person who was once human had completely transformed into an existence beyond comprehension.
"What on earth have you become..." she murmured to herself, not daring to probe deeper for the answer.
In the center of the flames, Kanjuro's Eye of Truth pierced through Kitami's cold exterior, glimpsing the unquenched fire of love deep within her soul.
He chuckled and stroked her tense back: "Why have you stopped resisting?"
Kitami's eyes flickered in the firelight like shattered stars: "What is the point of resisting?"
Their bodies intertwined in the blazing fire, as a strange dark energy formed a protective barrier around them, sealing out the scorching heat waves.
Kitami once tried to take the lead, her nails digging deep into Kanjuro's back as if she wanted to tear apart the man who had betrayed her.
But soon, her offensive turned into powerless trembling, collapsing utterly under Kanjuro's more violent response.
This struggle between light and darkness lasted the entire night.
When dawn arrived, the fire miraculously extinguished, and there was no sign of the two in the ruins.
On the barren land in the outskirts, Kitami sat naked among the withered grass, her gaze as sharp as a blade: "What exactly do you want?"
Kanjuro dressed himself unhurriedly, his Eye of Truth constantly watching the fluctuations of her soul: "Stop deceiving yourself, Kitami. Even though I betrayed you like this, deep in your heart, you still love me, don't you?"
Kitami's body trembled slightly, but her voice was as cold as ice: "You are too self-righteous. One day, I will kill you with my own hands."
"Is my spear of longinus still not enough to make you honestly face your feelings?"
Last night, when their bodies joined, Kanjuro awakened the power of the divine spear that had once pierced Jesus' side.
This should have been a tool to make any woman lose herself in lust, but the Eye of Truth saw a deeper truth—Kitami's fall did not stem from physical pleasure, but from that inseparable love from the depths of her soul.
Kitami turned her back to him and put on her clothes mechanically: "So? You think after doing all this, I will forgive you?" Her laughter was choked with sobs, and tears glistened at the corners of her eyes.
Kanjuro sighed, which was a rare occurrence: "I have my reasons."
"Just for the power of the dark bible?" She raised an eyebrow mockingly. "Now that you've got everything you wanted, why don't you treat me like you treat those other women?"
Kanjuro suddenly stepped forward, and a series of slaps fell on her face.
Kitami endured it with an expressionless face throughout, as if this body no longer belonged to her.
In this moment, Kanjuro felt powerless before this woman for the first time.
A strange emotion sprouted in his heart—it was a sense of guilt and remorse he had never experienced before.
"Take care of yourself." He could only turn and leave in the end.
Kitami watched his receding figure, her voice cold as frost: "If you don't kill me, you will definitely regret it."
"I look forward to it." Kanjuro's laughter echoed across the barren land.
In the following days, Kitami seemed like a changed person.
She always stood alone in the distance, indifferently watching Kanjuro's every move. Those eyes that were once gentle now held only a dead silence.
The next evening, Kanjuro came to the hospital accompanied by Yuigahama Yui.
In the ward, Yukinoshita Yukino lay on the hospital bed, staring with hatred at the man who walked in.
Kanjuro's Eye of Truth easily saw through the conflict in her heart—hatred intertwined with a certain twisted love; the charm spells of the dark bible had long since taken root deep in her soul.
"You still have the face to show up?" Yukinoshita Kiyomasa blocked the front of the bed, the badge on his police uniform glinting coldly under the lights. "You're the one who hurt my sister, aren't you?"
The other members of the Yukinoshita Family also cast hateful looks.
Seiga's father spoke coldly: "Young man, you will pay the price for what you have done."
"I'm just here to visit a good friend." Kanjuro smiled and bypassed the policeman, his fingertips lightly stroking Yukinoshita Yukino's bandage-wrapped face. "You wanted to see me too, didn't you?"
The girl on the bed trembled violently but could not make a sound, only able to express her anger through her eyes.
"Get away from my sister!" Yukinoshita Kiyomasa reached for his sidearm in a fit of rage.
Kanjuro stepped back unhurriedly: "I also really want to know why Seiga was injured. After all, I care about her very much."
Although everyone suspected it was Kanjuro's doing, they couldn't find any evidence.
Yesterday's mysterious fire had burned the Old School Building basement to a crisp, and the Occult Research Society had disbanded along with it; all clues were severed.
"Since everything is fine, I shall take my leave."
Kanjuro leaned down and whispered in Yukinoshita Yukino's ear: "I'll come to see you again tonight."
The girl on the bed was expressionless, but the Eye of Truth captured her body's instinctive reaction—the reaction of a woman who had been violated and deceived by Kanjuro, yet still couldn't let go of her physiological need for him, becoming a hormonal slave for it.
Walking out of the hospital, Yuigahama Yui timidly pulled on Kanjuro's sleeve: "Master, please don't hurt Seiga, okay?"
Kanjuro's Eye of Truth carefully scrutinized the pink-haired girl.
In his vision, Yuigahama Yui's soul displayed a peculiar color—severe Stockholm Syndrome had caused her to develop a pathological dependence on the man who took her first time. No matter what humiliation she suffered, she would not resist; her body and soul had both completely submitted.
"Don't worry," Kanjuro stroked her cheek, "She is just like you, a precious collectible of mine."
The setting sun stretched their shadows very long, as if they were two venomous snakes intertwined.
Kanjuro knew that this dark feast woven by his own hands had only just begun.
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