The fragments of the dagger lay scattered on the floor, reflecting the dim yellow light from the bedside and the light that had completely extinguished in Koizumi Akako's eyes. All the schemes, all the sacrifices, and all the pride had been turned to dust between Kanjuro's two effortless fingers.
She was like a puppet with its strings cut, slumped among the messy bedsheets, left with only physiological tremors and the emptiness of a soul thoroughly hollowed out.
Just then, Kanjuro moved.
He did not fly into a rage because of the assassination attempt, nor did he immediately inflict more cruel punishment. Instead, he reached out his arm and, in an irresistible, almost enveloping gesture, pulled the cold and stiff Koizumi Akako into his embrace.
That embrace was like a cold force field, drawing in the surrounding darkness and chill, turning into an inescapable imprisonment that also gave rise to a shivering... sense of conversion.
She felt herself falling into a black hole of consciousness; her perception was stretched into thin threads that finally snapped and drifted away. Time and process lost their meaning, leaving only a tyrannical will that reshaped reality, completely overwriting her old existence. Like clay thrown into a furnace, her form collapsed and flowed under silent, great power, before being poured into a new mold.
It was the gestalt of her existence being replaced. Her familiar "self" was erased like a program, and at the bottom of that vacant consciousness, lines of cold, inhuman code were automatically generating.
The morning light arrived as scheduled, palely illuminating the floating dust.
The room was as still as a tomb, with only the silent dust proving the flow of time and certain unspeakable changes.
She kept her eyes open, staring at the ornately decorated but cold ceiling.
Her eyes, once as brilliant and lively as rubies, filled with magical arrogance, were now clouded with a lingering, somber darkness. There were faint shadows around her eyes—not from fatigue, but more like the annihilation of some inner light, a brand left after darkness had thoroughly saturated her soul.
Her gaze no longer held anger, fear, or even hollow despair; it held only a deathly, almost resigned calm. And beneath that calm lay a trace of something even she hadn't noticed: a morbid attachment and... a twisted adoration for that absolute power and distorted control.
The door was pushed open gently. Kanjuro was already fully dressed and refreshed, as if last night had been nothing more than an ordinary rest. He walked to the bedside and looked down at Koizumi Akako, his gaze sweeping over the darkness in her eyes, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.
He reached out and used his fingertips to gently—so gently it was hair-raising—brush away the sweat-dampened purple-red hair from her forehead.
"Akako," he spoke, his voice low and resonant, carrying a strange tone that seemed like a reward, "you have done very well."
Koizumi Akako's eyes moved slightly, focusing on his face. She didn't respond, just listened quietly.
"After last night," Kanjuro continued, every word sounding as if he were engraving a new destiny for her, "I think you should have completely understood. Resistance is futile. Denying your bloodline and your home will only bring pain."
He leaned down slightly, bringing his face close to hers. Those deep eyes were like two whirlpools, threatening to suck in the last of her self.
"From now on, forget those unrealistic fantasies. You are my daughter, and the most precious dark blood flows within you. Between us, there is the closest, most inseparable bond in this world."
His voice carried a certainty as if proclaiming eternity:
"From now on, we will be father and daughter, together forever. You belong here, you belong to me. Do you understand, Akako?"
Together forever... father and daughter...
These words no longer sounded like the initial resistance and fear, but rather like an indisputable final judgment, a shackle that'saved' her from boundless pain and struggle. She had given everything she could, resisting until the very last step, only to face the most complete defeat. Perhaps... accepting all of this and giving up all senseless resistance was the only 'way out'?
Koizumi Akako gazed at Kanjuro, at this man who had given her life, personally cast her into hell, and finally forced her submission with absolute power. Somewhere inside her, a high wall collapsed with a crash.
Extremely slowly, she nodded almost imperceptibly. Her dry lips twitched, letting out a hoarse and submissive voice:
"...Yes... Father."
This address of 'Father' no longer held the stiff pretense of last night, nor the sharp hatred from before; there was only a tired, resigned, and even twistedly dependent docility remaining.
Kanjuro smiled—a truly joyful smile of a victor in total control. He reached out and pulled Koizumi Akako up from the bed, as if picking up a perfect masterpiece that belonged to him.
"Very good. Go wash up, and then, I will take you home."
Home... that dark Mansion now truly seemed to be her only, and inevitable, destination.
Led by him, Koizumi Akako walked mechanically toward the bathroom.
Reflected in the mirror was a young girl with gloomy eyes and a lingering dark aura surrounding her. That proud successor of Scarlet Magic who had tried to commit patricide was dead; the one who lived on was Kanjuro's daughter, the bearer of his dark bloodline, another thoroughly conquered possession in his kingdom who might serve a new purpose in the future.
Her fall was thus complete.
It was not through gentleness, but through extreme violence and total despair that this twisted and eternal 'bond' was forged. After bringing the completely tamed Koizumi Akako back to that dark Mansion, Kanjuro did not give her much time to adjust or rest. To him, once a tool was sharpened, it should be put to use.
In a more private, dimly lit side hall deep within the Mansion, Kanjuro summoned Koizumi Akako. She had changed into a dark-patterned dress he had prepared for her; her long burgundy hair was neatly combed, but the heavy gloom in her eyes and the submissive dark aura surrounding her showed she was worlds apart from yesterday.
"Akako, there is something I need you to do." Kanjuro sat in the main seat, his tone as flat as if assigning a daily chore. "Kaito Kuroba and Nakamori Ginzo—their existence makes me feel a bit... annoyed. Go and deal with them."
Koizumi Akako listened quietly, her face showing no reaction, as if she hadn't heard a murder order but something as mundane as what to eat for dinner. She merely bowed her head slightly, her voice steady and emotionless: "Yes, Father. I will complete it."
No asking why, no questioning the targets, only absolute obedience. Her past pride and principles, along with that failed assassination attempt, had been thoroughly crushed and reconstructed into an extension of Kanjuro's will.
Kanjuro was very satisfied with her reaction. He stood up, walked to her, and reached out to stroke her cheek, like rewarding an obedient hound.
"Very good. However, you won't be completing this mission alone."
He withdrew his hand and turned toward the shadows on the other side of the hall.
"Come out, Aoko."
Following his words, a slender figure slowly emerged from the shadows. It was Nakamori Aoko.
Unlike her previous broken and desperate state, the current Aoko had a cold, almost numb calmness in her eyes, though deep within them, suppressed flames and unstable dark glimmers flickered. She too had changed into clothes provided by the Mansion, her original sunny aura replaced by a somber one. In her hand, she tightly gripped a cold pistol—the very one Kanjuro had left with her before.
Seeing Aoko appear, and especially seeing the gun he had left her, a tiny ripple finally appeared in Koizumi Akako's dead-water eyes—it was the perception of a kindred spirit, and an indescribable deeper realization of Kanjuro's control.
"Aoko, is your resolve ready?" Kanjuro looked at Aoko, his tone gentle yet carrying an irresistible pressure.
Aoko's fingers tightened slightly, her knuckles turning white. She looked up, her gaze sweeping past Kanjuro and landing on Koizumi Akako before finally focusing on a point in the void. Her voice was somewhat hoarse but exceptionally clear:
"...I am ready. Papa."
"Excellent." The corners of Kanjuro's mouth curled up as he stepped aside, presenting his two 'daughters' to each other.
"Akako, this is Aoko, your younger sister. Aoko, this is Akako, your older sister."
He introduced them simply, as if merely introducing family members, rather than two tragedies he had personally pushed into the dark abyss.
"You share similar bloodlines, and now, you share a common goal."
He walked between them, his voice carrying a power interwoven with seduction and command:
"I want you to cooperate. Akako, your magic and intellect, combined with Aoko, your... resolve and 'familiarity' with the targets. Go together and eliminate those two annoying flies for me."
Kanjuro's gaze swept over their faces.
"Work together, do not disappoint me. This is your first mission together as my daughters. It is also the time to prove your worth."
He packaged this bloody assassination as a 'family mission' and a 'proof of ability,' further binding them to his chariot and using their presence to monitor and restrain each other.
Koizumi Akako reacted first. She turned to Aoko and nodded slightly, her posture impeccable yet carrying a distant coldness: "Sister Aoko, I look forward to working with you."
Aoko looked at this beautiful'sister' who radiated danger and darkness, then looked at the gun in her hand. The last trace of faint warmth regarding 'family' had long since frozen over. She pulled the corners of her mouth into an expression that wasn't quite a smile, her voice dry:
"...Sister Akako. I look forward to our... cooperation."
Their exchange was polite and brief, but undercurrents surged beneath. There was the perception of sharing the same fate, the recognition of the mission, and perhaps a subtle affirmation of their status as kindred spirits in the dark that even they hadn't noticed.
Watching these sisters who had just 'recognized' each other and were about to stain their hands with blood together, a joyful and profound light appeared in Kanjuro's eyes. He had successfully twisted the two daughters with the most rebellious spirits in his bloodline into the sharpest and most tragic blades in his hand, and they were about to tear apart the people and relationships they once cherished for his will.
"Go." He waved his hand like an emperor dispatching his generals. "I await your good news."
Koizumi Akako and Nakamori Aoko exchanged a glance, silently reaching a certain understanding. They no longer looked at Kanjuro, but turned together and walked out of the side hall. Their two slender figures, radiating an ominous aura, gradually merged into the deeper shadows of the Mansion, carrying cold killing intent as they rushed toward the world they once knew to execute a patricidal assassination order issued by their biological father.
The Dark Sisters had thus joined forces. Their footsteps would trample over past warmth and conscience, adding another bloody footnote to Kanjuro's dark kingdom.
The afternoon sun spilled through sparse clouds onto the streets of Central Tokyo. When Kaito Kuroba received the text from Aoko, his heart suddenly sank.
"Back alley of the school, 3:00 PM, come alone. I have something important to say. —Aoko"
This was irrational. Inspector Nakamori had clearly stated yesterday that he would 'protect' Aoko at home; how could she possibly come out? Not to mention sending such a text. Kaito's first instinct was a trap, but the tone of the message... it was indeed Aoko. Concern outweighed caution, and he decided to go to the meeting.
The school's back alley was a narrow lane rarely visited by people. Kaito arrived ten minutes early, leaning against the mottled wall, his fingers unconsciously rubbing a poker card he often used as Kaitou Kid. His ears caught every tiny sound around him—the wind, the traffic from the distant street, the sound of the nearby convenience store's automatic door... then, he heard footsteps.
Very light, but definitely approaching. Kaito turned his head and saw a familiar figure appear at the mouth of the alley.
Aoko.
She was wearing a dark short dress he had never seen before, with a dark coat over it. Her hair was neatly combed, and her face looked somewhat pale in the afternoon sun. What startled Kaito most were her eyes—those eyes that were once always full of life, sometimes angry and sometimes sparkling with laughter, were now like two pools of stagnant water, terrifyingly calm.
"Aoko?" Kaito stepped forward quickly, his voice full of disbelief and worry. "How did you get out? Does Uncle Nakamori know? Are you okay?"
He noticed that Aoko's right hand was tucked into her coat pocket the entire time.
Aoko didn't answer his rapid-fire questions. She stopped about five meters away from Kaito, her calm gaze falling on his face as if confirming something, or waiting for something.
"Aoko?" Kaito called out again, an ominous premonition rising in his heart. "Did Kanjuro do something to you? Say something!"
At the mention of the name 'Kanjuro,' Aoko's eyes moved slightly. Her lips pursed, and she finally spoke, her voice eerily calm:
"Kaito, I have something to tell you."
"What is it? Tell me." Kaito looked around alertly and found no one else, but this made him even more uneasy. Aoko's state was too abnormal.
"Come closer," Aoko said, her voice still just as calm. "I don't want anyone else to hear."
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