Eri Kisaki's call of "daughter" and her bursting tears were like a heavy hammer shattering Aoko's last bit of hope. She staggered, almost unable to stand, and her voice carried a broken tremble as she questioned Eri Kisaki and the demon on the throne:
"The truth... tell me the truth! Who am I?! What is the relationship between you and Kanjuro?! That dream... was that dream real?!"
Looking at her daughter's pained and stubborn eyes, Eri Kisaki felt like a knife was twisting in her heart, knowing she could no longer hide it. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her surging emotions, and said slowly with a sobbing voice:
"Aoko... you and Ran... are Twin Sisters."
As soon as she finished speaking, Ran Mouri, who had been sitting quietly at Kanjuro's feet, looked up. She looked at Aoko with a complex gaze—guilt, sympathy, and a hint of the connection through blood. She spoke softly, confirming this incredible fact:
"Yes, Aoko. We are twins... that's why we look almost exactly the same. Our father... is Father Kanjuro."
Twins?! With Ran?!
Her father is... Kanjuro?!
Aoko felt as if she had been struck by lightning. Her gaze swept back and forth between Ran and herself. Although their hairstyles and temperaments were different, those similar facial features now became incredibly glaring! She had always thought it was just a coincidence, but she never expected... "Then... then what exactly happened?! Eighteen years ago... at the Sacred Scripture Academy... what happened?!" Aoko pressed, wanting to know everything, wanting to know the starting point of this twisted fate.
This time, before Eri Kisaki could answer, Kanjuro on the throne let out a low, pleasant laugh. He set down his wine glass and leaned forward slightly, his deep eyes like two whirlpools that seemed to want to suck Aoko's soul in.
"It seems you really want to know, my dear daughter," Kanjuro's voice carried a cruel poetry as he recalled the past. "In that case, let me tell you."
His gaze became distant, as if piercing through time and space to return to that night eighteen years ago shrouded in darkness.
"Eighteen years ago, at the Sacred Scripture Academy... no, it had a more fitting name then—the Sacred Scripture Academy underground laboratory." Kanjuro's tone was calm, yet every word carried the scent of blood. "What was being conducted there was no honorable academic research, but a... Forbidden Ritual in pursuit of supreme power and eternal life."
"And I am the chosen 'vessel', or rather... the 'key'." His lips curled into a cold arc. "The ritual requires massive life energy and the most primitive desires as fuel... So, they gathered over a hundred women with special bloodlines or constitutions..."
Kanjuro's gaze swept over Eri Kisaki, then over Miyano Elena and the others present, finally falling back onto Aoko's pale face.
"In that underground secret chamber... in that space filled with runes and dark power... I had relations with those hundred-plus women." His words were blunt and cruel, without the slightest hesitation. "With the help of that chaotic and massive ritual, I finally... successfully communicated with the abyss and inherited the power of the legendary 'dark bible', which contains endless darkness and knowledge."
He spread his hand, and a wisp of tangible black mist swirled in his palm, emitting a heart-palpitating aura.
"And this is the origin of everything. It is also the root of your origins, Aoko, as well as Ran's... and many others present."
"Your mother, Eri Kisaki..." Kanjuro looked at Eri Kisaki, whose face was deathly pale and whose body was swaying slightly. "She was one... of those hundred-plus people. And you and Ran are the... products of that ritual."
"..."
Dead silence.
Only Aoko's heavy and chaotic breathing remained in the hall.
The truth was presented nakedly before her in the ugliest and most unbearable way.
She wasn't Nakamori Ginzo's biological daughter... She was the offspring of this demon, Kanjuro... She was the product of her mother being... in a dark ritual... She and Ran were twins with the same demonic father... All the clues, all the dreams, all the irrationalities connected at this moment, forming a desperate and dark picture.
Aoko looked at Eri Kisaki, who was covered in tears and seemed to have aged significantly in an instant; she looked at Ran, whose expression was complex; she looked at the women around them who seemed to have long since accepted their fate; and finally, her gaze fixed on Kanjuro's face, which wore a satisfied smile.
Her worldview completely collapsed, replaced by a cold, bloody, and nauseating dark reality. The "home" and "truth" she had always sought were actually such a terrifying abyss.
Her legs gave way, and she could no longer support herself, collapsing to the ground. Tears surged out silently, not from sadness, but from extreme bewilderment, fear, and... a sense of being defiled, a despair originating from her very bloodline.
Kanjuro slowly rose from his throne and walked with composed steps to the soul-shaken Aoko sitting on the floor. He didn't reach out to help her up, but merely gazed down at her. That gaze held a strange gentleness that seemed able to soothe all pain, yet it also hid an irresistible power of control.
"The past can no longer be changed, Aoko." His voice was deep and magnetic, like a demon's whisper, attempting to comfort her broken soul. "But the future is yours to choose. This place is your destination, your home."
He bowed slightly and extended a hand to Aoko, palm upward, in a posture as elegant as inviting a princess to dance.
"Come, let me show you your new home. You will find that it isn't as terrifying as you imagine. We are a... big family."
Aoko stared blankly at that well-defined hand which contained terrifying power, her heart filled with resistance. Her reason was screaming, telling her she must escape this demon, the source of the mess her life had become. However, an inexplicable attraction originating from deep within her bloodline entangled her like a spider's web, preventing her from turning and fleeing immediately. The aura Kanjuro emitted, a mix of extreme danger and fatal charm, eroded her will like the sweetest poison.
As if possessed, she reached out her trembling hand and placed it in Kanjuro's palm.
His palm was warm and dry. When he held her, the pressure was moderate, yet it carried a firmness that seemed capable of imprisoning the soul.
Kanjuro smiled with satisfaction and led her to her feet. Like an attentive host, he began to lead her on a tour of this magnificent yet eerie "palace."
They walked through a corridor covered in expensive Persian carpets, with priceless oil paintings hanging on the walls on both sides, some of which had dark and profane themes. Kanjuro softly introduced the origins of certain artworks, his tone light as if he were merely discussing the weather.
"Look at that painting, 'The Fallen Morning Star'," he pointed to a work depicting a falling angel surrounded by darkness, his tone appreciative. "Isn't it beautiful? Falling sometimes means another level of freedom and power."
Aoko listened in silence, her gaze sweeping over the paintings, feeling only a chill climbing up her spine.
They came to a spacious terrace where the afterglow of the setting sun dyed the sky a poignant orange-red. From here, one could overlook most of Tokyo, where the lights of ten thousand homes were just beginning to flicker like scattered stars.
"Look at this city," Kanjuro stood beside her, his voice carrying a strange enchantment. "It seems prosperous and orderly, but in reality, it's filled with hypocrisy, constraints, and boring rules. But here, under my protection, you can cast off those tedious shackles and gain true... power and freedom."
His words were like a key, attempting to unlock some suppressed corner of Aoko's heart. She had to admit that after learning about her origins and unexpectedly triggering her potential to escape the guards, that superhuman feeling had indeed brought a hidden, improper throb of excitement.
When they returned indoors and passed the dining room, the long dining table was already set with exquisite tableware and gourmet food. Ran, Sonoko, Akemi, and others were already seated. When they saw Kanjuro leading Aoko in, their faces showed either gentle or complex smiles.
"Welcome home, Aoko-chan," Ran said softly, her eyes sincere.
"We're a family from now on!" Sonoko chimed in with a giggle.
Looking at this seemingly "harmonious" scene and hearing their affectionate addresses, Aoko was momentarily dazed. This feeling of being accepted and recognized felt like a glass of warm water to her, who had just experienced the shock of her origins and long-standing loneliness, temporarily soothing her internal coldness and pain. Kanjuro's charm, the temptation of power hidden behind the Mansion's luxury, and the natural pull of blood were all quietly dismantling her mental defenses.
But—
When Nakamori Ginzo's honest and concerned face flashed through her mind, a strong sense of guilt and betrayal suddenly seized her!
That was the father who had raised her for over a decade and given her selfless paternal love! How could she... how could she feel even the slightest bit of identification with this demon before her who caused all the pain, with this twisted "home"?!
The resistance in her heart surged again like a tide, even more violent than before. She abruptly pulled back her hand from Kanjuro's grip as if burned, took two steps back, and her face became pale and wary once more.
"No... that's not right..." She shook her head, her voice weak but carrying a trace of struggling determination. "This isn't my home... Inspector Nakamori is my father... You... everything here is abnormal!"
Kanjuro wasn't surprised by her sudden resistance, nor did he get angry. He just looked at her quietly with those eyes that seemed to see through everything, the meaningful smile still lingering on his lips.
"Is that so?" he asked softly in a flat tone. "But my power flows in your blood, Aoko. The potential you showed when you escaped the guards is the best proof. Resisting your origin will only make you suffer more."
He took a step forward, and an invisible pressure enveloped Aoko once again.
"It's alright, I have plenty of time to wait for you to slowly come around. After all, we are 'family'."
Aoko bit her lower lip hard, feeling the pain of the internal battle. She was attracted by Kanjuro's charm, curious about her potential power, and even felt a shameful sliver of desire for this twisted "familial love." Yet, deep in her heart, the yearning for light and normalcy—nurtured by Nakamori Ginzo for over a decade—was still putting up a final, stubborn resistance.
She was trapped here, her body imprisoned by this Mansion and her soul torn bloody between the temptation of darkness and the call of light. The road ahead was blurred; she didn't know if her will could ultimately withstand this dual erosion from her bloodline and the dark abyss.
Kanjuro didn't force Aoko to stay. He seemed to understand the principle of playing hard to get. After showing her what "home" looked like and sowing seeds of temptation and bloodline ties, he generously signaled that Aoko could leave.
"Go back and think it over carefully, Aoko." He stood before the Mansion's gate, which looked like the gaping maw of an abyss, his figure appearing exceptionally tall and unpredictable in the twilight. "This door is always open for you. Remember, my blood flows in your body; that is a fact you can never change. Resisting it will only cause you pain. Accept it, and you will gain unprecedented power and... freedom."
His words were like a curse, lingering in Aoko's ears even as she turned to leave.
Aoko practically fled that area shrouded in blood and luxury, re-entering the ordinary streets. The evening breeze blew against her face, carrying the city's familiar bustle and atmosphere, yet it couldn't disperse the heaviness and chaos in her heart.
Walking home alone, her mind involuntarily replayed fragments from Kanjuro's Mansion—
Kanjuro holding her hand, his deep voice seemingly carrying concern as he introduced her "home";
Him standing on the terrace, pointing at the bustling city below, his eyes full of temptation as he said he could give her "freedom";
And at the dining table, when Ran, Sonoko, and the others said "Welcome home," that fleeting, shameful throb and... a faint warmth deep in her heart.
These images and feelings soaked into her cold and desperate heart like warm water. She had to admit that at that moment, in that eerie atmosphere of being protected by great power and surrounded by "family," she indeed felt a distorted sense of "warmth" and "belonging." Especially Kanjuro—that demon she should have loathed—when he gazed at her with such focused eyes, as if she were the only person in the world, and when she felt the temperature from his palm, an unspeakable sense of closeness from deep within her bloodline actually overpowered her rational fear and disgust!
This feeling terrified her and made her loathe herself even more!
"What is wrong with me?!" Aoko shook her head violently, her nails digging deep into her palms, trying to use the pain to clear her mind. "He's a demon! He ruined my mother's life, he brought me into this world in such a terrifying way, he treats human life like grass, he turned my life upside down... How can I... how can I feel he's...?!"
The word "warmth"—she didn't even dare to think it fully in her heart. It was too absurd! Too shameful!
She thought of Nakamori Ginzo—the man who, though a bit reckless, had given her the purest paternal love for over a decade. She remembered his bloodshot eyes from worrying about her, his clumsy attempts at preparing breakfast for her, and how he must be waiting anxiously at home right now... In contrast, that tiny bit of "warmth" she felt for Kanjuro was simply the greatest betrayal of Papa Nakamori!
Intense guilt and self-loathing submerged her like a tide. She felt she was filthy, twisted, and beyond saving. On one side was the inseparable dark attraction and faint desire for power brought by Kanjuro's bloodline; on the other were the moral values shaped by over a decade of normal life, her deep affection for Nakamori Ginzo, and her attachment to the world of light.
These two forces fought and pulled violently in her heart, causing her unbearable pain. She could neither fully throw herself into the darkness nor embrace the light as purely as before.
She stopped and looked at the people coming and going on the street, busy with their lives, their faces ordinary yet vibrant. She suddenly felt an unprecedented sense of loneliness and isolation. They would never understand the struggle she was going through, never know what kind of deep, heart-tempting darkness was hidden beneath the light of this world.
And she herself seemed to have already stepped one foot into that darkness, and... tragically discovered that it wasn't just filled with fear and pain.
"I hate myself like this..." Aoko leaned against a deserted street corner, pressing her burning cheek against the cold wall. Tears slid down silently, filled with confusion and self-loathing.
Kanjuro letting her leave wasn't out of kindness, but a more cruel psychological tactic. He had successfully planted the seeds of conflict in her heart, leaving her to suffer between light and darkness, her adoptive father and biological father, and normalcy and power. This inner war was far more agonizing than physical imprisonment. And Aoko knew she had to make a choice soon; otherwise, she would likely lose herself completely in this endless tearing.
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