Chapter 46: Gently, The Knife Is Twisted.
Pov 1→ Mahiru Yuuta.
The café was warm. Dim yellow lights, soft jazz humming in the background. Yuuta sat across from Rave, nursing a half-cold cup of coffee, fingers idly stirring the untouched sugar cube.
"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she muttered.
Rave's eyes-those heavy, golden irises-stayed fixed on her with an intensity that should've been uncomfortable.
But it wasn't. Somehow, it just made her feel... listened to.
"You loved him," Rave said quietly. "Renji, wasn't it?"
Yuuta gave a bitter smile. "It wasn't love at first. It was just... timing. We were in the same college. Same seminars. I thought he was annoying at first."
"And then?"
"Then he stopped being annoying."
Rave gave a small chuckle. "That's one way love works."
She looked away. "But it never really bloomed, you know? I was busy with licensing and school. He had his own demons. Then he left-to 'clean himself up,' he said. I thought he'd come back, but he didn't."
"Did you wait for him?"
"No," she said, too quickly.
Rave tilted his head. "Are you sure?"
Yuuta stared at him. His expression hadn't changed, but the room suddenly felt too quiet.
"I moved on."
"Moving on and letting go," Rave murmured, "aren't always the same."
She blinked.
Then he leaned back, swirling the coffee he hadn't touched once.
"Feelings are tricky," he said, casual. "Sometimes they don't die. They just... wait. Until the right scent or face or name digs them up again."
Yuuta said nothing, but her grip on the mug tightened.
He stood. "Thank you for the coffee."
"Wait," she said. "What are you even doing here, Rave?"
He smiled.
"Just reconnecting people."
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Pov 2→ Shinohara Renji.
The air on the rooftop was crisp. Renji stood at the edge, hands in pockets, staring into the city. Rave walked up behind him, silent as fog.
"You always this dramatic?" Rave said, voice light.
Renji flinched slightly, turning. "How long were you standing there?"
"Long enough. You looked like a philosopher. Or a retired assassin."
Renji gave him a wary look. "You're... Yuuta's friend?"
"Friend?" Rave tilted his head. "Let's just say I'm familiar with people's stories. Including yours."
That made Renji stiffen. "What do you mean?"
"I know about the cleaning," Rave said. "Leaving her behind."
Renji turned sharply. "How?"
Rave shrugged. "I know someone with omnipresent eyes. And another with nine brains."
"Stop joking. Why do you know this?"
"Because it matters," Rave said, suddenly serious. "Because maybe you never told her what she needed to hear. Maybe you still haven't told yourself."
There was a long pause.
Then Renji laughed, bitterly. "You think I wanted to leave? You think that wasn't the hardest thing I've done?"
Rave didn't answer. Just waited.
Renji looked away. "I was broken. I was dragging too much into the future. I didn't want her to bear the cost."
"So you ghosted her."
"I left," Renji said sharply. "There's a difference."
"Mm." Rave nodded slowly, repeating what he'd told Yuuta -but modified. "Sometimes we don't stop loving people. We just bury them under decisions we think are right. The deeper we bury, the more we forget what we were even running from."
Renji's brow furrowed.
"Be honest," Rave said. "If she stood in front of you now... would you love her again?"
Silence.
Renji didn't respond.
But Rave already knew the answer.
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Pov 3→ Rave.
The room was silent. A cramped apartment near the edge of the city. Rave sat cross-legged on the floor, phone in hand.
He opened a chat thread.
The sender name was saved as: (Ex) Blind Kid with Hidden Trauma
The message was short: "You're gonna help them, right?"
He sighed.
"God help me, I'm playing Cupid now."
He dropped the phone onto the table, leaned back, and stared at the ceiling.
"...Gosh damnit."
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Pov 4→ Tokusake Ren.
It was amazing, really.
How easy it was to lie with a smile.
"Good morning!"
"Yeah, I watched the episode last night. Totally crazy."
"Haha, of course I studied! Totally didn't cram two hours before."
Ren said all of it with a practiced ease.
He even added a laugh where appropriate.
He walked with his hands in his pockets, his bag slung casually over one shoulder, whistling like nothing was wrong.
Like he hadn't just learned that he-or the version of him that belonged here-had killed himself.
Like he hadn't just been told that his existence was now the parasite latched onto a life that no longer had a host.
That the real Tokusake Ren had to die for the imposter to live.
He even joked with Akeshi in the hallway.
"Don't burn down the science lab again, Chef Killer," he said with a smirk.
"Don't have to," Akeshi replied, eyebrow arched. "The fumes from the math teacher's coffee breath already did."
Laughter. Students passed. No one noticed anything wrong.
But Ren's hands-inside his pockets-were clenched so tightly they trembled.
In class the lesson was about classic literature. Some tragic play about identity, fate, and masks.
The irony was bitter enough to chew through a desk.
"Ren, your thoughts?"
"Huh?" He blinked.
The teacher smiled patiently. "On the final monologue. Do you think the protagonist is truly free at the end?"
Ren opened his mouth.
Then something strange happened. The classroom suddenly blurred. Just a second. Like a glitch in a game. A flicker of another classroom, blood on the walls.
Screams. A gun? No-a mirror.
Then it was gone.
He forced a smile.
"I think... he was free the moment he chose to accept who he was. Even if it meant losing everything."
The teacher raised an eyebrow. "Interesting answer."
Someone behind him whispered, "That was kinda deep."
Ren gave a small chuckle. But his palms were still damp. The desk under him felt like was tilting. Just a little.
After School he helped the teacher carry some papers. Talked to Shimo about a painting she was doing. Even patted shinji on the shoulder when the guy yawned too hard and fell off his chair.
He was normal. He was present. He was Ren.
Until he went to the bathroom, locked the stall, and pressed his forehead against the cold wall.
Just breathe.
He didn't cry. He didn't scream.
But he whispered something. So soft it was almost inaudible.
"I don't know who I am anymore."
Later That Night, at home, his mother made karaage.
The smell dragged him to a different memory. One where he'd refused to eat it. Said it was too oily, too basic.
He sat down this time.
Said thank you. Ate all of it.
Smiled when she offered more.
His father grunted approval. "You're acting more like a son these days."
He nodded.
Smiled again.
Went to his room.
Shut the door.
Sat down at his desk..
Then stared at the wall until it blurred.
Until it breathed.
He picked up a pen.
Wrote his name on the desk:
Tokusake Ren.
Then, beneath it, in smaller letters: