— Since it's come to this… how about you let Chiori go? —
My voice was calm.
But inside—rage was burning.
He lounged on his stone throne like this was all some game.
His gang-emblazoned mask caught the flickering light—
But even through it, I could feel his smugness.
— Why do you care about her? — he asked, lazily curious.
— You used an innocent girl to draw me out.
Well, here I am. You got what you wanted.
So maybe… let her go already.
Silence.
He slowly removed the mask.
There he was—Kento.
My brother.
The one I thought had died.
But now… just another monster hiding in the shadows of our past.
— Boring, — he scoffed, like I'd let him down. — Fine. Let's make a deal.
— Speak.
My hand tightened around the knife.
My heart pounded like a war drum.
— I'll release her.
But first—
We fight.
I use a katana.
You—just that pathetic little knife.
If I lose, I die.
And no one will ever touch either of you again.
But if you lose—
We tear you apart for parts.
Then we take our time with her.
The deal was revolting.
But in this world, there's no such thing as choice.
I had already accepted death.
But not hers.
— Fine… I agree.
He stood.
The throne behind him vanished into the dark.
The space twisted, tightened—
This was our arena.
Our final act.
— Good, — he grinned. — On the count of three.
— One…
— Two…
— Three.
I lunged forward.
It began.