"O-Oh, Hayato... w-what brings you back?" It was Auntie who opened the door, her voice trembling slightly as she forced a smile. She was clearly trying to appear calm, pretending everything was fine. But the atmosphere betrayed her—thick with unease, and the unmistakable scent of fear hung in the air.
I offered a calm "smile", feigning ignorance of the tension clinging to the air. "Sorry to bother you, Auntie. I just remembered I left something in Sanae's room. Is she there right now?" I spoke casually, as if nothing was amiss—fully aware that he was likely close enough to hear every word. It wasn't just for show. If Auntie so much as hinted at the truth, she'd be risking all three of our lives. Not that she'd ever dare to.
"S-Sanae?... That's right, she just went to take a bath," Auntie replied, the hesitation in her voice betraying the lie she had conjured on the spot.
"Oh, that's too bad," I said with an easy smile, as if I hadn't noticed her falter. "Then, do you mind if I just grab my thing myself?" My tone remained light, casual—carefully masking my pretext.
"Sure, go ahead," she said, forcing a nod as she stepped aside.
I gave her a polite smile and made my way upstairs, my footsteps steady, unhurried. But the moment I was out of her line of sight, I stopped.
There was nothing I had forgotten. That excuse was just a pretext—a way to get inside without raising suspicion. I had already contacted the police before stepping through the door. Still, I knew they might have a hard time. Kurosawa wasn't just hiding—he was holding Sanae hostage.
Right now, I had a brief window—a sliver of time to plan my next move. If I could just get to Sanae and free her before the police arrived, it would be far easier to corner Kurosawa and have him arrested without bloodshed.
But that was the ideal outcome. Reality wasn't so kind.
There was a problem—a deadly one. Kurosawa wasn't bluffing, he had already killed them once, there is a high chance he might do it again. He wasn't a man trying to scare anyone—he was ready to kill.
That's why I couldn't place my trust entirely in the police. What if they arrive late? Or their arrival pushed him over the edge? What if he panicked and decided to take Sanae's life before they could even reach her?
No, that wasn't just a possibility. It was a very real threat.
That man is close—I can feel it in my gut. The air is too heavy, too still. He's somewhere nearby… but where?
My mind replayed Auntie's words: "She just went to take a bath." At first, it felt like a clumsy lie, but now it clicked. The bathroom. That's where he might be hiding, it makes sense.
If that's true, then I have a small edge right now. He thinks I'm clueless, just some kid coming to grab something he "forgot." But I know he's here. I know.
And that gives me a chance—one narrow chance.
If I play this right, if I keep up the act just a little longer, I might be able to catch him off guard… and save Sanae before it's too late.
-----
"Tch, what's taking that brat so long?" Kurosawa muttered under his breath, his voice low and laced with irritation.
He was crouched in the bathroom, the cold tiles pressing against his knees. One arm was tightly wrapped around Sanae's neck, keeping her locked in place, while the other held a gun steady against the side of her head. Her trembling was barely noticeable now—she was too scared to even breathe loudly.
His eyes narrowed, mind racing.
"Should I just kill him?" The thought surfaced, dark and unhesitating.
"P-Please don't do anything to him… he's not involved in this," Sanae finally spoke, her voice barely a whisper, trembling with fear.
She had been silent all this time, paralyzed by the cold metal against her skin and the crushing weight of Kurosawa's arm around her neck. But she couldn't stay quiet anymore. Not after hearing what he was considering.
Hayato… he had nothing to do with this. He shouldn't pay the price for her misfortune.
"Oh dear, you seem to be very fond of that guy," Kurosawa said with a twisted smile, his tone mockingly sweet.
"Is that it? Then just stay quiet and still, and I won't lay a finger on him," he added, as if offering some twisted form of mercy.
Then, without warning, he leaned in closer, burying his face in her hair and taking a long, deliberate sniff—like he was savoring her scent, claiming her in his own vile way. Sanae flinched, her whole body stiff with disgust and fear.
"Mmm… you smell lovely," he whispered, his voice low and venomous. "Now I feel a little envious of that boy… but I shouldn't act childish."
He chuckled darkly, tightening his grip just slightly.
"Once he's gone, we can finally have some real "family" bonding time… something deep, something unforgettable. And I promise—by the end of it, you won't even remember that kid's name."
Sanae was beyond disgusted. Every word Kurosawa whispered made her stomach churn, made her skin crawl with an unbearable urge to tear it off—anywhere he touched, anywhere his breath had lingered. Just the thought of another man, doing anything to her that wasn't Hayato… it made her want to scream, to vanish, to die before it could happen.
Her body trembled, not just from fear—but from a deep, soul-rending revulsion.
And yet… she didn't move. She didn't scream. She didn't resist.
Because a thought—darker than her fear, more terrifying than death itself—kept her rooted in place.
'What if… if I kill myself now… and he turns that gun on Hayato?'
That possibility froze her. Shackled her. Kurosawa was unstable, unpredictable. If he saw her take her life, there was no telling what he'd do next. He might take it out on Hayato. He might kill him just out of spite.
No—she couldn't let that happen. She couldn't let Hayato die because of her.
So she endured.
She clenched her teeth, swallowed her screams, and forced her body to stay still… all to protect the one person she couldn't bear to lose.
On the other hand, Kurosawa was already teetering on the edge of ecstasy—just the thought of what he planned to do in mere moments was enough to send waves of twisted euphoria through him. His breath grew heavier, intoxicated by the sick anticipation.
But he hadn't always been this way.
Once, he was just an ordinary man. A quiet, polite office worker with a modest life. He didn't stand out much, but he was decent-looking, well-mannered, educated and reliable. A man who followed the rules and smiled at strangers.
Then he met her.
It happened at a train station, just a fleeting glance at first. A beautiful woman standing alone, bathed in the soft morning light. He started seeing her there regularly—always around the same time. Something about her captivated him. So he began arriving earlier, positioning himself where she could see him. Watching became a ritual, a small thrill in his otherwise dull routine.
Eventually, he worked up the courage to speak to her. She was warm, gentle, and kind—and she smiled back. That woman was Sanae's mother.
She was a widow with a young daughter, he later learned. But that didn't matter to him. His heart had already been captured. He liked her voice, the way she laughed at his harmless jokes, the way she looked at him like he mattered.
And after a few months of seeing each other—coffee dates, quiet walks, conversations that felt like something more—he proposed. It was sudden, but heartfelt. He wanted her. He wanted that life with her.
But she hadn't said yes—not right away.
Instead, she told him gently, "I can't decide this on my own. I need to know if my daughter would be okay with it."
It was a small challenge, a minor hurdle, but Kurosawa welcomed it. If winning over the girl meant he could spend the rest of his life with the woman he loved, he was more than ready to put in the effort.
That was the first time he met Sanae.
A meek little girl with quiet eyes and a soft voice—that was his first impression. She seemed fragile, like she might vanish if one spoke too loudly around her. He found her… cute.
So he played the part of the doting would-be stepfather.
He was always kind, always polite. He brought her sweets, chocolates, etc, that made her eyes widen with surprise. He made her laugh, treated her like a princess. Every move was careful, calculated—a flawless performance.
To his surprise, it worked even faster than he expected.
Sanae accepted him. Perhaps too easily. But it wasn't because she was charmed or enchanted by him—not the way he believed.
She simply wanted her mother to be happy again. To see her smile the way she used to before the weight of widowhood crushed it from her face.
But Kurosawa… misunderstood.
In his mind, her kindness was affection. Her approval, a sign of something deeper. He thought, "Maybe this girl likes me too. Maybe she looks up to me… adores me."
A dangerous, delusional seed took root in his heart that day—one that would slowly, insidiously twist everything that followed.
After the wedding, life settled into a peaceful rhythm—or so it seemed. Kurosawa had everything he thought he ever wanted: a stable job, a lovely wife, and a quiet home.
But as the days turned into months, and months into years, something began to shift.
The once-shy little girl who called him "uncle" out of formality was no longer a child. Without realizing it, he started to notice her more—her growing elegance, the way she carried herself, the subtle resemblance she bore to her mother. The innocence in her eyes remained, but now it was accompanied by a quiet beauty that made something stir deep within him.
At first, he told himself it was natural—just the pride of a father figure watching his stepdaughter mature. But deep down, it wasn't pride. It was something far more twisted. A forbidden fascination that rooted itself in his subconscious.
And then came her eighteenth birthday.
She had stepped into adulthood, though still living under their roof. Kurosawa told himself nothing had changed, but something had. He found himself watching her more closely, seeking out her presence without reason.
Then, one day—not long after that—he returned home early.
And fate presented him with what he believed was a "gift".
Sanae came home from school, her uniform slightly disheveled, her expression tense. He noticed the faint red marks on her arms, the subtle wetness on her uniform. Signs of bullying.
A normal man—a real father—would have been furious, would have stormed into the school the next day demanding justice. But Kurosawa… he didn't feel rage.
Instead, he felt "opportunity".
A chance to draw her closer. To become her comfort, her safe place. If she saw him as someone who protected her, cared for her more than anyone else… maybe, just maybe, she would come to rely on him. Trust him. Need him.
That day marked the moment he truly stepped off the edge. He started walking a path from which there was no return—convinced all the while that it was "love".
But no matter how sweet his words were, how gentle his tone, or how perfectly he played the role of the caring stepfather—Sanae never let him in.
There was always a distance.
A quiet, unspoken wall between them.
She smiled politely, thanked him when he brought her something, responded when he asked about school—but her eyes never softened. Her guard never lowered. It was as if, somewhere deep down, she "knew". As if she sensed the rot behind the smile.
The more he tried, the more his frustration grew.
Every failed attempt—every sidelong glance ignored, every moment of subtle affection coldly deflected—festered inside him like a wound that refused to heal. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she see how much he "cared"?
The answer never came. Only silence. Cold, respectful distance.
Until that night.
He received a call: his wife wouldn't be coming home due to heavy rainfall.
And in that moment, Kurosawa felt the switch flip.
This was it. His one chance. The opportunity he had long fantasized about in the dark, where no one could see the vile things twisting inside his mind. But as the moment loomed, he hesitated. His body trembled—not from fear, but from the weight of what he was about to do.
He wasn't brave enough to act.
Not yet.
So he reached for the bottle.
If courage wouldn't come on its own, then he would force it down his throat—sip by sip, until hesitation dulled and impulse took over.
(AN: I tried to give the Antagonist a bit of character by giving him a small backstory as to not make him too flat. Hope it turned out well.)