"If you don't cooperate, I can't guarantee that The Organization, or the FBI, or other factions driven mad by Kanjuro won't link you sisters to him. When that happens, the danger you face will far exceed what it is now."
"Cooperate with me, contact Kanjuro, and get the information we need. This is the only way to protect you and Shiho."
Akemi Miyano's face instantly turned as pale as paper, and her body began to tremble violently. Shuichi Akai's threat had accurately struck her fatal weakness. She could care less about herself, but she could never let Shiho be dragged into this!
On one side was the only boy who had given her warmth in her childhood memories (even if that warmth stemmed from a deception), and on the other was her younger sister, whom she valued more than her own life and protected with all her might.
Immense pain and struggle intertwined in her eyes. She looked into Shuichi Akai's cold, resolute eyes and knew he wasn't joking.
Ultimately, the instinct to protect her sister overrode everything. As if all her strength had been drained, she slumped against the wall, tears sliding down silently. In a voice that was barely audible, she compromised in despair.
"...I... I understand..."
"I'll... try to... contact him..."
These words seemed to use up all her strength and something she had held onto for many years. She knew that once she took this step, no matter the outcome, the last bit of pure connection between her and the boy in her memory would be completely tainted, and she herself would fall into an endless abyss of pain between the condemnation of her conscience and the protection of her sister.
Looking at her, Shuichi Akai felt no joy of victory, only a heavy coldness. To counter the unprecedented threat of Kanjuro, he had to resort to these dark methods, even forcing an innocent (or rather, a woman bound by the past) to face a demon she might not be able to withstand.
The darkness of the world seemed to be eroding every corner because of Kanjuro's existence, including this small apartment where he thought he could temporarily find refuge. The heavy night was like ink that wouldn't dissolve, shrouding Tokyo. Inside a safehouse, Shuichi Akai's figure appeared exceptionally cold under the dim light. He had just finished an encrypted communication with FBI headquarters. The news footage on the screen about Kanjuro forcing the police to sign a 'letter of surrender' was like poisonous thorns stabbing at his heart. The air was thick with a heavy sense of helplessness and anger.
He turned to look at Akemi Miyano, who was sitting nearby with a pale face. Her fingers were nervously twisted together, showing her extreme inner unease.
The heavy night was like ink that wouldn't dissolve, shrouding Tokyo. Inside a simply furnished safehouse where only the essential electronic equipment emitted a faint light, Shuichi Akai's figure appeared exceptionally cold under the dim lighting, like a frigid sculpture. He had just finished an encrypted communication with FBI headquarters. The news footage on the screen about Kanjuro forcing the police to sign a 'letter of surrender' was like poisonous thorns, repeatedly stabbing at his heart. The air was thick with an anger born of helplessness, as well as the stale scent left behind by burning tobacco.
He turned abruptly, his sharp green eyes locking onto Akemi Miyano, who was sitting in an old sofa in the corner, her face as pale as paper, like a sniper's scope. Her fingers were nervously and tightly twisted together, her knuckles white from the force, clearly showing the internal turmoil and extreme unease within her.
"Akemi," Shuichi Akai's voice broke the silence, cold and hard, devoid of any human emotion, like a judge reading a sentence. "We need an opportunity to get close to Kanjuro. An opportunity that will make him let down his guard enough for me to pull the trigger. And you," he paused, his gaze dissecting Akemi's fear like a scalpel, "are the only one who can possibly get this 'ticket'."
Akemi Miyano looked up sharply as if pricked by a needle, her eyes filled with unbelievable fear and resistance. "No! Shuichi! You can't... you can't make me contact him! It's too dangerous, it's basically suicide! And you don't understand at all..."
"I don't need to understand anything else!" Shuichi Akai interrupted sharply. He stepped forward, his tall figure casting a massive shadow under the light that completely engulfed the petite Akemi, bringing a suffocating pressure. "I only need to understand that he is a threat that must be eliminated! This isn't a discussion; it's an operational order." His eyes were as sharp as a hawk's, flashing with a cruel determination to crush anything to achieve his goal. "You must find a way to contact Kanjuro and, under the guise of an old classmate catching up, lure him to the location we set. I will be in position at the optimal sniper point." Every word he spoke seemed to be plucked from an ice cellar, carrying a chilling frost. "No matter the situation on the ground, no matter the cost, as long as he appears, I will seize the opportunity and kill him with one shot!"
"You'll die! Or you'll completely enrage him, causing even more terrible and uncontrollable consequences!" Akemi Miyano stood up agitatedly, her voice carrying a sob from extreme fear, her body trembling slightly. "You don't understand at all what kind of existence he is..."
"I understand that he is a butcher with blood on his hands, a demon who finds pleasure in toying with people's hearts!" Shuichi Akai growled, grabbing her slender shoulders with such force that she let out a pained groan, tears instantly welling up. "Look outside! Look at what he's done! The order of the entire country is trembling beneath his feet! Any method that might stop him must be tried and executed! Including using you, Akemi!" He stared into her tear-filled eyes, hammering home each word. "This is a necessary sacrifice!"
Akemi Miyano trembled violently under his grip, like a leaf withering in a gale. She saw the unquestionable, unshakable cold determination in his eyes—a ruthlessness that could sacrifice everything, including her and the faint affection between them, for the so-called 'big picture'. She knew deep down that she had no room for resistance.
Finally, under Shuichi Akai's gaze that seemed capable of freezing the soul, she felt as if all her strength and spirit had been drained. She slumped back onto the old sofa, bowing her head in resignation, her long hair falling to hide her desperate face. "...I... I'll try..."
With trembling hands, she began to carefully search through an old tin box printed with a faded cartoon pattern that she carried with her. Inside were small items from her girlhood.
Eventually, she pulled out a primary school address book that had turned severely yellow, with curled and even damaged corners. The paper was so fragile it seemed it would turn to dust with a light touch. She didn't hold any hope at all; how could a phone number from decades ago, in an era when communication technology was far from advanced, still work? This was more of a perfunctory response to Shuichi Akai's unavoidable command and a faint echo of some secret and dangerous longing deep within her heart.
Her fingertips stopped on a name and number written in blurred blue ink—it was "Kanjuro."
She took a deep breath, as if this action required all the courage of her life, and then, following the string of digits long branded into her memory, she pressed the keys on her phone one by one, slowly and heavily, dialing that call to the blood-colored past and the unknown abyss.
Meanwhile, at the Suzuki Family villa, in the top-floor master bedroom.
This place was a completely different universe from the chilling, tense world outside.
A massive crystal chandelier illuminated the room like daylight, its light dancing on expensive gilded decorations and smooth marble floors.
The air was filled with the mellow aroma of aged champagne, the haze of top-tier cigars, and the intoxicating, decadent scent of several expensive women's perfumes mixed together.
Kanjuro was wearing a deep purple silk bathrobe, his collar slightly open, lounging lazily in a spacious Italian custom leather sofa that could accommodate several people.
His posture was relaxed and comfortable, like an emperor who held the power of life and death, enjoying the tribute he deserved.
To his left, the mature and beautiful, charming Tomoko Suzuki—the actual controller of the Suzuki Financial Group who commanded the business world—was now like a completely tamed Persian cat, snuggling docilely in his arms.
Her head was tilted back, and she was sharing a long kiss with Kanjuro.
To his right, the sister duo Ayako Suzuki and Suzuki Sonoko, also wearing thin silk nightgowns, clung to him like twin lotuses on a single stalk, one on each side.
The older sister, Ayako, possessed a gentler temperament. She used her slender fingers to carefully feed a peeled, crystal-clear grape to Kanjuro's lips, her eyes filled with a near-devout admiration and obsession.
The younger sister, Sonoko, was more lively, whispering sweet nothings into his ear in a coquettish tone, eliciting a wicked and knowing smile from the corners of Kanjuro's mouth.
His free hand rhythmically stroked Sonoko's smooth hair with a sense of dominance. His posture was intimate and natural, as if this twisted and immoral scene was a perfectly normal family daily occurrence.
A satellite phone—old-fashioned and bulky in style but equipped with top-tier encryption—sat on the luxurious crystal coffee table. It rang inappropriately, emitting a persistent and clear hum that shattered the atmosphere of debauchery.
Tomoko Suzuki slightly furrowed her exquisitely drawn eyebrows and let out a dissatisfied hum from her nose, seemingly very bothered by this sudden interruption.
Kanjuro also raised an eyebrow in slight surprise. He knew this number was extraordinary; very few people knew it, and it had been silent for many years.
He gently patted Tomoko's smooth back and made a "stay calm" gesture to Ayako and Sonoko, who were looking at him inquiringly.
He reached out lazily, picked up the heavy phone, and pressed the answer button with his well-defined fingers. Bringing the receiver to his ear, his voice carried a hint of laziness from being disturbed and a sense of aloofness that seemed to come from high above the clouds:
"Who is this?"
There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, where only a faint, tense sound of breathing could be heard, as if someone were trying hard to suppress it.
After a few seconds, a female voice—timid, hesitant, and sounding as if it had traveled through a long corridor of time and was stained with the dust of the past—rang out cautiously, carrying an imperceptible tremor:
"Kanjuro-kun... Do you, do you still remember me? I am... Akemi." When Kanjuro picked up the phone and heard that female voice, marked by timidity and the traces of time, identifying herself, a faint glimmer—like finding an interesting toy—flashed in his deep eyes. He adjusted his sitting posture; though still lazy, his attention seemed to focus slightly. Tomoko Suzuki keenly sensed the change in his aura and gently leaned her head on his shoulder, no longer disturbing him; Ayako and Sonoko also obediently quieted down, though their gazes remained fixed on him.
"So it's Akemi," Kanjuro's voice came through the receiver with a perfectly measured, gentle surprise, as if an old friend were reuniting, yet it also held a faint, underlying aloofness of being in total control. "How rare. So many years have passed, and you still remember me? You could even find this number."
On the other end of the line, Akemi Miyano sat in the dim light of the safe house, clutching her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. Hearing him admit he remembered her made her heart ache inexplicably, a mix of warmth surging from long-ago memories and the icy fear of her current situation. She sighed, her voice so soft it almost dissipated into the air: "I didn't expect... Kanjuro-kun, you've changed so much over the years." Her words carried a complex tone—sentimentality, and perhaps a hint of indescribable loss. The demon in the news who caused bloodbaths with a wave of his hand overlapped with, yet tore apart from, the image of the boy in her memories who, though solitary, would "protect" her.
Kanjuro acted as if he didn't hear the complexity in her words. Following her lead, he said in a nostalgic tone, "Speaking of which, the time we spent as classmates when we were young, though brief, was quite carefree and happy when I look back on it." He paused, his tone transitioning naturally as if asking casually, yet carrying a certain scrutinizing intent: "Akemi, so many years have passed. Have you... been happy lately?"
This question was like a key, unexpectedly opening the floodgates of Akemi Miyano's memory. She remembered when she first transferred schools as a child; she was isolated because of her introverted personality. It was Kanjuro who took the initiative to approach her, talk to her, and share snacks... Those fragments softened by time became exceptionally clear now, viewed through a warm filter, making her cold heart feel a sliver of illusory warmth. She almost wanted to drown in it.
However, Kanjuro's next words were like a bucket of ice water, instantly waking her up and causing Shuichi Akai, who was listening from a distance, to furrow his brows tightly.
Kanjuro's voice remained steady, even carrying a bit of casualness as if chatting, but the content was enough to make any normal person's skin crawl: "Speaking of which, I probably forgot to tell you something. Back then, when you first transferred over, those bad students who caused you trouble and bullied you... I was actually the one who sent them." He dropped this bombshell nonchalantly, then continued in that gentle tone, "Later, the person who stepped in to teach them a lesson and'save' you from your predicament was, naturally, also me."
In the safe house, Akemi Miyano's breath suddenly hitched. Hearing this through his earpiece, Shuichi Akai's eyes instantly became incredibly sharp, and his danger assessment of Kanjuro soared once again—this man would even plot against a childhood playmate like this!
But to everyone's surprise, after a brief silence, Akemi Miyano did not show anger or terror. Instead, she let out a low, bitter laugh of realization. "It's been so many years... and you still remember it so clearly." Her voice trembled slightly, yet carried a strange calmness. "I... of course I knew. A long time ago, I accidentally heard someone mention it."
She took a deep breath, as if having made a certain resolution. Her voice, though weak, was exceptionally clear: "But... I don't... don't hate you just because you found people to bully me. Because in my heart, Kanjuro-kun... has always, always been a very gentle person." She said this with some difficulty, yet with abnormal firmness. "Back then, I was a transfer student, and no one wanted to pay attention to me. Only you... were willing to talk to me, willing to play with me... Just for that, I was already... very happy, very grateful."
This near-pathological defense and twisted gratitude came through the airwaves, causing even Kanjuro to be slightly stunned for a moment. Then, a smile that could truly be called "pleasurable" appeared on his face. This kind of completely warped loyalty and dependence satisfied him far more than simple fear or submission.
"Heh..." Kanjuro chuckled low, his tone carrying undisguised admiration. "Akemi, you're still the same as when you were little... adorably 'innocent'." He deliberately emphasized the word "innocent," the irony of which only he understood. "Fine, let's end the reminiscence here. You didn't call just to tell me you're doing well, did you? What do you want from me?"
Akemi Miyano's heart leaped into her throat; she knew the most critical moment had arrived. Following Shuichi Akai's instructions, she tried to make her voice sound natural, carrying the anticipation of an old classmate meeting: "I... I want to meet with you, is that okay? Just the two of us, to talk privately." She gave the time and the address of a cafe located on the shore of Tokyo Bay, a location carefully selected by Shuichi Akai for easy sniper deployment.
Kanjuro did not answer immediately after she finished. A brief silence fell over the other end of the line, where only the faint sound of fabric rubbing—belonging to Tomoko Suzuki or Sonoko—could be heard. This silence was agonizing for Akemi Miyano; every second felt as long as a century.
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