A dull, suffocating heaviness pressed against my chest as my senses stirred. The first thing I noticed was the damp, metallic scent in the air—rust, blood, and something else, something rotten. My head throbbed, a deep, pulsing pain that only worsened when I tried to move.
Then I felt it.
The rough bite of rope digging into my wrists. My arms were bound behind my back, the coarse fibers rubbing against my skin with each faint movement. My ankles were tied too, restricting even the slightest shift.
Cold air ghosted over my skin, making the dampness in the room settle into my bones. The walls around me were concrete, cracked, and covered in the grime of years untouched. A single dim light flickered above, casting jagged shadows that stretched like twisted limbs across the floor. The only exit—a rusted metal door—stood shut.
Trapped.
And then—
A faint rustling beside me.
I turned my head, my breath catching for a moment.
Ayane.
She was slumped against the wall, her body still, her breathing shallow. The bruises and cuts from our fight marred her skin, and the wound on her leg, though no longer bleeding, left a dark stain against her torn clothes. Her arms were bound just like mine, her frame barely covered by what remained of her outfit.
She looked lifeless.
But I knew better.
Even unconscious, even in chains, Ayane wasn't someone who could be broken so easily.
The door creaked open.
Footsteps echoed, slow and deliberate. The sound sent a chill down my spine, and then—
A smirk.
A man stepped into the dim light, his figure sharp against the sickly yellow glow. His presence alone shifted the air, making it thick with something suffocating.
He was taller than me—taller than Ayane, too—with a solid, well-built physique. Broad shoulders, strong frame. He carried himself with an unsettling ease, every movement controlled, deliberate. His black hair was neatly combed back, revealing sharp, calculating eyes that gleamed with amusement.
Even though my vision was hazy, even though I couldn't make out every detail of his face, I knew.
It was him.
A shudder crawled through me, my body instinctively tensing. My fingers twitched against the restraints as my breath grew unsteady.
The past I had tried to bury had finally caught up to me.
"Ah… what a wonderful sight."
His voice was smooth, almost mocking. Amused.
"To finally see you—Ken, the one who always kept his composure—like this. In despair. In pain."
I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stay silent.
He took slow, measured steps closer, his boots clicking against the hard floor. Then, his gaze flickered to Ayane, and his smirk deepened.
"She really is something, isn't she?" He tilted his head slightly, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Using her—turning all that pain inside her into anger—was worth the effort."
Ayane stirred beside me.
She wasn't fully conscious yet, but her fingers twitched, her brows drawing together as if her body was resisting the reality she was waking up to.
The man crouched down in front of me, his voice dropping lower, smoother.
"You knew, didn't you?" He mused. "That Ayane would never truly kill you. And that you would never kill her."
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms.
"That's why I had to push her further. To break her just enough so that she'd stop hesitating." He let out a small chuckle. "But of course, you had to go and ruin it. Saving people, holding back… always playing the hero."
His eyes sharpened, and for the first time, the amusement in his tone faded.
"I wonder…" He reached forward, gripping my chin and forcing my head up. "Will you still play the hero when you know you've already lost?"
Ayane's breathing hitched.
She was awake.
Slowly, she lifted her head, her expression blank at first. But as her gaze settled on the man in front of us, something flickered in her eyes.
Confusion.
She turned to look at me.
I couldn't meet her gaze.
I kept my head down, my jaw locked.
Because I already knew what she had realized.
And she wasn't wrong.
"Oh, Ayane…" The man's voice dripped with mock sympathy. "Maybe you still don't understand the situation."
His smirk widened, his grip on my chin tightening slightly before he let go.
"I am the reason Ken left you."
A deep, ringing silence filled the room.
Ayane's breath was unsteady.
She didn't speak. Didn't react.
And then—
The man leaned in closer, whispering with a cruel edge.
"Maybe… before you die, you should at least know why he abandoned you."
Then he straightened, letting out a low chuckle as he placed a hand over his chest.
"But don't worry, Ken. You won't have to suffer alone." He spread his arms slightly, as if gesturing to everything around him. "I'll take everything from you. Your peace. Your strength. Your purpose." His smirk widened. "And in the end, you'll watch as I take Ayane, too."