The setting sun elongated their shadows. Yui Yuigahama led Kanjuro on the way home. Thinking about bringing a new friend home, Yui's mood was jubilant, and her steps were light. Kanjuro followed casually by her side, his gaze occasionally sweeping over her vibrant profile. In those delicate features, he could faintly see the shadow of another woman, and she had also inherited certain traits from his genes.
"Yui," Kanjuro spoke, his voice gentle and carrying a perfectly measured curiosity, "You mentioned before that you didn't have a father growing up. So... how has your mother managed all these years, raising you alone?" He paused, as if showing the concern of an ordinary friend, yet with a trace of subtle inquiry, "Has she never thought about... finding another man?"
This question seemed to strike a chord with Yui. She immediately shook her head, a protective, huffy expression surfacing on her face. Even when angry, she appeared quite cute.
"Mama would never look for someone else!" her tone was categorical. "Mama... she often just sits alone, sometimes staring out the window in a daze. I know she's thinking about Papa." She paused, her voice dropping a bit, carrying a complex emotion, "Mama said... although Papa was a bad person and did many terrible things, still... when he was being gentle, he was very gentle. It's just..." She wrinkled her dainty nose, seemingly searching for the right words, "It's just that there was a very scary sense of contrast."
"Sense of contrast?" Kanjuro chuckled, as if he had heard something amusing, though a deeper meaning flickered in his eyes. "What kind of contrast? Hearing you say that makes me even more curious about your father." He was indeed curious—curious about how Yoko Yuigahama had described him, the "missing" father, to their daughter all these years.
Yui Yuigahama sighed, looking with a maturity and helplessness that didn't quite match her age. "Mama said... at first, she always believed Papa was a gentle and kind person. But one day..." Her voice grew lower, tinged with confusion, "Papa's 'truth' was exposed. He did many... many terrible things."
She looked up at Kanjuro, her eyes clear yet filled with incomprehension. "The strangest thing is, Mama said that even after she knew Papa's true face, she... she would still 'collude' with Papa sometimes..."
"Collude?" The smile on Kanjuro's face deepened into one mixed with mockery and realization. He naturally knew what that so-called "collusion" referred to—back when Seiga Yukinoshita still thought she was Kanjuro's only official girlfriend, how Yoko Yuigahama, that seemingly submissive and timid woman, had repeatedly gone behind her "good friend" Seiga Yukinoshita's back under his half-forced, half-tempted influence to have secret trysts with him, sinking into that dangerous and immoral relationship. Yoko's compliance and occasional proactive "collusion" had brought him plenty of extra "pleasure" back then.
He looked at the daughter before him, who knew nothing of her origins or the twisted relationship between her parents, and his malicious sense of amusement was satisfied. The sunlight fell on his handsome profile, outlining a flawless silhouette, yet it could not illuminate those bottomless eyes.
"It seems your parents' story is even more complicated than I imagined," he said nonchalantly, veiling that dark past beneath casual words. "We're almost there, right? I'm already looking forward to meeting your mother."
He wanted to see what kind of expression Yoko Yuigahama would make when she saw him again after all these years—the man she called "gentle yet scary," the man she had "colluded" with. It would surely be very interesting.
Pushing open the familiar door, a scent mixed with light detergent and the warm smell of food wafted toward them. The entryway was neatly organized, reflecting the mistress's diligence and care. In the living room, a figure stood with her back to them, leaning over to wipe the coffee table. She wore simple loungewear and an apron; her figure was still slender, and her movements possessed a gentle efficiency.
Hearing the door open, the figure straightened up. While wiping the faint beads of sweat from her forehead with her arm, she turned around, a natural smile on her face to welcome her daughter home.
"Yui, you're back..."
Her voice came to an abrupt halt the moment she saw the person behind Yui.
Yoko Yuigahama's smile instantly froze on her face, like a flower suddenly struck by a cold current. Her gaze was like it was drawn by a magnet, firmly pinned to Kanjuro's face—that handsome face that was no different from when they first met eighteen years ago, and even more breathtakingly beautiful because time could not erode it.
Time seemed to surge backward in an instant, violently dragging her back to that summer at the "Bible Academy." Back then, Kanjuro was a unique existence in the class. Most students kept a respectful distance from him because he seemed to be the only one willing to associate with Reika Kitami, who was isolated by everyone and rumored to be somewhat "ominous." But the young Yoko Yuigahama didn't think so; she always felt that the boy sitting alone by the window with a distant gaze had an indescribable attraction. She even secretly felt he wasn't a bad person at heart, just not very sociable... They were, after all, classmates.
Memories overlapped with reality. The massive shock left her speechless for a moment, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, nearly shattering her ribs.
"Mom?" Yui Yuigahama was a bit confused by her mother's sudden reaction, but she still happily introduced him: "This is Kanjuro, my classmate! I brought him home to visit today!"
Yoko Yuigahama snapped back to her senses. Almost instinctively, she pulled her daughter to her side, her movements carrying a trace of imperceptible panic and protectiveness. She suppressed her surging emotions and forced an extremely unnatural smile. Her gaze shifted, not daring to meet Kanjuro's eyes, and her voice trembled slightly:
"Thi... this is...?"
Kanjuro took in all her panic. An impeccable, extremely gentle smile bloomed on his face—one enough to make any young girl blush. His gaze lingered on Yoko Yuigahama, his tone carrying sincere wonder, as if he were meeting her for the first time:
"Auntie~" He deliberately used this slightly intimate term that emphasized the generational gap, his voice clear. "How... do you look so young? If Yui hadn't introduced you, I would have thought you were her sister."
These words brushed against Yoko Yuigahama's heart like a feather, yet they made her feel even more ashamed. She knew why she didn't look old—it was precisely because she had had a relationship with the demon before her and had been "blessed" by his eerie power, forcing her youth to stay. Now, however, this had become the most ironic proof. She wore simple loungewear and was dressed like an ordinary housewife, yet the luster of her skin and the firmness of her face were completely at odds with her attire, exuding an unnatural vitality.
Her cheeks flushed uncontrollably, not from shyness, but from fear, humiliation, and the embarrassment of being seen through. She gripped her daughter's hand tightly, her knuckles turning white. Facing the man who had changed her life and had now barged back into it in such a manner, she didn't know how to respond for a moment.
Kanjuro admired the complex emotions interweaving on her face as if watching a meticulously choreographed play. He knew this "visit" had only just begun. Yoko Yuigahama suppressed the stormy waves in her heart and forced a stiff, polite smile appropriate for her daughter's ordinary classmate: "S-so it's Kanjuro-kun. Welcome to our home. Please, come in." She stepped aside to make way, her movements slightly hurried.
Kanjuro followed suit and walked into the living room. His gaze casually swept over the warm and tidy decor, a faint, ambiguous smile playing on his lips.
Yoko took a deep breath and turned to her daughter, her tone striving for calmness. "Yui, go to your room and do your homework first. Mama... has something she wants to talk to Kanjuro-kun about privately."
"Eh? Why, Mama?" Yui Yuigahama pouted in dissatisfaction, her eyes moving back and forth between her mother and Kanjuro, filled with incomprehension. She had finally brought a friend home and wanted to chat more.
"Listen to me!" Yoko Yuigahama's voice suddenly sharpened, carrying an unquestionable, almost panicked firmness. "Go to your room now!"
Yui was startled by her mother's rare sternness. She pursed her lips aggrievedly but ultimately didn't dare to disobey. Mumbling a small "Okay...", she walked toward her room, looking back with every step until she closed the door.
In an instant, only the two of them remained in the living room.
Almost the second the door clicked shut, before Yoko Yuigahama could organize her words to speak, Kanjuro seemed to just wave his hand. A light "click" came from the living room door lock as it locked automatically. This subtle sound was exceptionally clear in the silent room, causing Yoko's heart to sink.
Before she could react, Kanjuro had already stepped forward, his arm easily pulling her into his embrace like an iron hoop. That power was domineering and familiar, instantly crushing all the defenses she had tried to build.
"It's been so many years," Kanjuro's deep voice sounded in her ear, carrying hot breath and undisguised banter. "Seeing your husband, and you're still here pretending to be a pure, strange auntie?"
Yoko Yuigahama's body stiffened. She struggled hard for a moment, only to find it futile. She looked up and glared crossly at Kanjuro's close-up handsome face, her eyes swirling with anger, shame, and an indelible throb of emotion.
"Kanjuro! That's enough!" she lowered her voice, filled with anger. "We are not in the past anymore! Let me go!"
"Oh?" Instead of letting go, Kanjuro tightened his arm, drawing the distance between them even closer. He lowered his head until their noses nearly touched, his eyes flashing with a dangerous and delightful light. "What? Are you so afraid of me? Afraid that I'll... do something to you?"
Yoko Yuigahama stopped her pointless struggling. As if her strength had been drained, she let out a deep sigh. She met Kanjuro's gaze with eyes as complex as a deep pool—there was fear, there was resentment, but deeper down was an emotion she herself felt hopeless about, one that had never truly been extinguished.
"It's not that I'm afraid of you..." Her voice dropped, carrying a trace of resigned bitterness. "In fact... all these years, for you... I might still like you just as much as ever." She forced these words out, her cheeks flushing not from shyness, but from the embarrassment of admitting this twisted emotion.
A flash of expected triumph crossed Kanjuro's eyes.
Yoko continued, her tone carrying deep exhaustion and resolve: "You know why I took Yui far away from you, why I pretended nothing ever happened..."
Hearing this, Kanjuro laughed as if he had heard something extremely amusing. The laughter echoed in the quiet living room, filled with the malice of one who controlled everything.
"You're afraid of me?" He deliberately misinterpreted her words, his fingertip lightly brushing her cheek, causing a shiver. "Afraid I'll make a move on our daughter?"
These words were like the sharpest dagger, precisely piercing Yoko Yuigahama's deepest inner fear. Her face instantly turned deathly pale, and her lips trembled slightly, no longer able to maintain her surface composure. Those eyes looking at Kanjuro were filled with the despair and pleading of a mother beast protecting her cub.
This was exactly the reaction Kanjuro wanted to see. The moment Yoko Yuigahama finished speaking, the banter on Kanjuro's face turned into cold mockery. He released his grip on her and took half a step back, his gaze dissecting every bit of fear and plea on her face like a scalpel.
"Tell me to stay away from my daughter?" He repeated her words, his tone full of absurdity. "Yoko, have you gotten something wrong? She is my daughter; my blood flows in her body." His gaze seemed to pierce through the wall to see the pink figure doing homework in the room. "My daughter has grown up and turned out so cute. As a father, I want to be close to her, care for her, and have a pure, untainted father-daughter relationship. Is there a problem with that?"
He spread his hands in an innocent gesture, yet his eyes were as sharp as a hawk's, firmly locked onto Yoko's pale face.
"On the contrary, it's you," his voice dropped, carrying a bone-chilling coldness, "judging me with such filthy thoughts. You truly measure the heart of a gentleman with the mind of a scoundrel. In your eyes, am I, this 'father,' really so despicable?"
"You... you're shameless! A hypocrite!" Yoko Yuigahama was so enraged by his high-sounding words that flipped black and white that her whole body trembled. The years of suppressed grievances, anger, and helplessness erupted like a volcano. She no longer cared about maintaining her composure, her voice carrying a sob and hoarseness, "Kanjuro! Stop putting on an act! I know better than anyone what kind of person you are! You have no bottom line at all!"
Seeing her lose control of her emotions, her eyes misty with tears yet looking exceptionally vivid due to her anger, the coldness in the depths of Kanjuro's eyes quietly melted, replaced by a familiar, dark sense of predation. He stepped forward again and pulled her into his arms without a word, his movements this time carrying an irresistible force.
"What kind of person I am..." he whispered in her ear, his hot breath brushing against her sensitive earlobe, "aren't you the one who knows best? So well that... even your body still remembers."
"Let me go! We're finished!" Yoko struggled with all her might, pounding on his chest, but that strength was like an ant trying to shake a tree before Kanjuro.
"Over?" Kanjuro sneered, his fingers expertly slipping into her collar to caress that still smooth and sensitive skin. "Yuigahama Yui, tell me... when has it ever truly been over between us?"
About half an hour later, the living room door was gently pushed open.
Kanjuro walked out looking refreshed, his clothes neat as if he had just had an ordinary conversation inside. Following closely behind was Yuigahama Yui; her cheeks still held a lingering flush, and her eyes were cast down with a complex expression as she silently straightened her slightly disheveled clothes and hair. A faint, lingering scent of ambiguity permeated the air.
"Go cook, Yoko," Kanjuro instructed in a natural tone, as if he were the master of the house. "I'm a bit hungry."
Yuigahama Yui's body stiffened. She looked up wanting to say something, her lips moved, but she ultimately swallowed her words back down.
As if seeing through her thoughts, Kanjuro walked to her side and reached out to pull her shoulder in a seemingly intimate embrace, yet his voice carried an unquestionable power of control: "Don't think too much. It's not easy for our family... to have a 'reunion' like this." He deliberately emphasized the word "reunion," filled with irony yet carrying a trace of eerie warmth.
His gaze turned toward Yui's tightly closed door, and his tone became slightly more lighthearted, which only made Yoko feel more uneasy: "We'll talk about future matters later. For now, go prepare dinner. I'll go see how our daughter's homework is coming along."
"For now, just enjoy this 'happiness'." His final sentence was like a spell, or a cold shackle, settling onto Yuigahama Yui's heart.
She watched Kanjuro walk straight toward her daughter's room and raise his hand to knock. Her heart was a whirlwind of emotions, filled with a sense of powerlessness and deep anxiety. She knew that once certain boundaries were broken, things could never go back to how they were. And this demon, in the name of a "father," had blatantly embedded himself back into their lives. This so-called "happiness" was nothing more than the prologue to another meticulously woven, cruel drama.
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