Akira had been busy all night at the restaurant, and I quietly stayed with him the whole time.
It was good for him to experience life earlier — I couldn't take care of him forever. Besides, I had already left him early. I gave a bitter smile in my heart and looked at my half-transparent body. Compared to a few days ago, I seemed even more faded. How much longer could I accompany him like this? Maybe it wouldn't be long before I completely disappeared.
But seeing Akira become more independent before I left — that was comforting. The only thing that still worried me was his bad habit of killing people impulsively.
By the time Akira got off work, dawn was already breaking. He returned home, casually made a fried egg, and was about to catch up on some sleep when a knock on the door came at the worst time. School had been canceled for a few days due to Chizuru's gruesome death, so who could be visiting him now? Or rather, who was looking for Kawashima Megumi?
Akira frowned, displeased, got out of bed, looked through the peephole, and then calmly returned to his room to put on the wig. He opened the door.
To his surprise, it was the same officer who had questioned him previously. He was in plain clothes this time, not uniformed.
"Miss Kawashima, sorry to bother you this early, but I still have a few questions about the case," the officer said bluntly, with no trace of apology. Compared to last time, his demeanor was even more serious.
"Please come in," Akira said, stepping aside.
The officer entered, casually observing the interior before taking a seat at the dining table. Akira sat across from him.
"I forgot to introduce myself last time. I'm Watanabe Makoto." Even without a uniform, Officer Watanabe exuded a strong sense of authority.
"Mr. Watanabe, please get straight to the point. I have things to do later," Akira replied coolly.
Watanabe smiled slightly. "Miss Kawashima, you're quite calm — not at all like an ordinary high school girl."
I couldn't help but shake my head. Of course not — because he's not a girl at all.
Akira returned a polite smile. "That's a bit biased, Officer. Can't a girl be calm? I'm not afraid of your visit — why shouldn't I be composed?"
Watanabe seemed surprised, then chuckled. "You're right. That was rude of me."
"Please just say what you came to say. I really don't have time for games." I could feel Akira's patience wearing thin. Honestly, I was starting to worry this officer might end up dead here.
Watanabe unhurriedly pulled out a file and took out a photo.
It was a photo of a thick metal pipe. My expression instantly changed.
It was the same pipe Akira had used to kill Chizuru.
I recalled clearly — Akira hadn't disposed of the murder weapon or wiped off his fingerprints. He had left it shoved straight down Chizuru's throat. Of course the police would examine it and naturally find his fingerprints.
"Miss Kawashima, can you explain why your fingerprints were found on the murder weapon?"
I was puzzled — Akira's fingerprints aren't the same as mine. How did the police trace it back to him? But Akira didn't look the slightest bit surprised. He calmly took the photo and studied it with a show of seriousness.
"This pipe… it does look familiar," Akira said, rubbing his chin. "Ah, I remember. It was placed in one of the stalls in the restroom. I saw it when I went to the bathroom."
Watanabe raised an eyebrow. "So? Why were your fingerprints on it?"
Akira chuckled softly. "I imagine I'm not the only one whose prints you found on it."
"That's true. We're questioning everyone whose prints were found."
Akira shook his head and gave a sigh of fake sympathy. "Then you're in for a lot of work."
Watanabe frowned, unsure what he meant.
Akira poured himself a glass of water, took a sip, and continued calmly.
"Do you know why that pipe was in the stall, and why it has so many fingerprints?"
"Enlighten me," Watanabe said.
"It was balanced horizontally between two gaps in the stall walls. Some girls would use it for support when getting up after using the toilet," Akira said, twirling the glass in his hand. The water inside rippled softly. "I have low blood sugar. That day I felt faint and used it for support. The other fingerprints were probably left the same way."
He smiled politely. "If you don't believe me, feel free to ask around."
Watanabe remained expressionless. "That makes sense. But what if the killer thought of the same thing — and used that 'shared' object to wash away suspicion?"
Akira shrugged, looking innocent. "How should I know? Officer Watanabe, with all those fingerprints, why focus only on mine? Do you have a bias against me?"
He added with a knowing look, "Though I understand. After all, I had some history with Chizuru. It's reasonable for you to suspect me. But I suggest you look into other people. Your time would be better spent."
His calm, articulate speech left me speechless. I'd never heard him say so much before. Akira had clearly calculated that Watanabe didn't have concrete evidence — just suspicions. If he did, he wouldn't have come alone to question him; he'd have arrested him directly. I couldn't help but wonder — how did Akira, who never went to school, develop such sharp reasoning and composure under pressure? He'd barely socialized with anyone, yet he could lie to a police officer without blinking.
Watanabe was silent. He stared at Akira for a long time, then stood.
"I've asked all my questions. Miss Kawashima, I will keep investigating this case. I hope that when the truth comes out, you won't be the one responsible."
Akira began swirling the glass faster. Droplets splashed up the sides.
"Of course, Officer. The door's that way. Take care."
As Watanabe left, Akira's smile faded. His eyes darkened, and his lips tightened.
Clearly, this officer wasn't going to let go anytime soon.
Because the murder had been so brutal — and it happened in a school filled with students — even though the administration tried to suppress the incident, rumors spread like wildfire. The case quickly made national headlines and caused panic throughout Japan. Fortunately, no one had come knocking on Akira's door since then.
But he wasn't idle. Every day he sat at his desk, methodically sharpening a gleaming dagger. His long fingers moved with skilled precision. The cold steel glinted under dim light, matching the chill in his eyes. The sound of blade against whetstone echoed like dry wind in winter. Even in this focused state, his face remained indifferent, the slight furrow of his brow the only hint of intensity.
The blade grew sharper and more dazzling with every stroke. His gaze never wavered — cold, calm, untouchable. Like the dagger, Akira himself radiated a dangerous chill.
A few weeks later, school resumed.
Strangely, the murder seemed to benefit "Kawashima Megumi." While no one believed the gentle Megumi could be a killer, the fact that Chizuru was killed after bullying her made many suspect the killer was a vengeful maniac lurking in the school. No one dared to bully anymore — even Suzuki Misaki had toned down her behavior.
Although Akira looked just like me and had a brilliant mind, he had never attended school, so sometimes he struggled to keep up in class. He sat in a corner, spinning his pen rapidly. His brow furrowed in thought as he stared at his notebook. Curious, I leaned in to see what he was working on.
But it wasn't a math problem. Written clearly on the page were names: Misaki, Mai, Riko, Chizuru, Watanabe Makoto. A slash had already been drawn through Chizuru's name.
My heart dropped. I instantly understood. Akira was planning to eliminate everyone who had bullied me. As for Watanabe — he was likely included for being a persistent nuisance.
Akira stared at those names with a blazing intensity that seemed to burn through the paper.
At that moment, a girl tapped his shoulder.
Instantly, Akira turned around, quickly tucking away his notebook, his eyes filled with vigilance. The girl jumped, startled, and quickly waved her hands.
"Megumi, it's me!"
Akira didn't recognize her, but seeing she meant no harm, his expression softened a bit.
"What is it?"
I recognized her immediately — Ayaka Yamada. She had always been the only classmate who was kind to me. She often brought me snacks, helped treat my wounds, and was gentle and warm. Although she never stood up for me when I was bullied, I understood. We weren't close, and she had no obligation to risk herself for me. Her quiet kindness in such a cruel environment meant the world to me.
I was nervous. I feared Akira might add her to his list too.
Ayaka avoided his eyes nervously. "Um… Satoru Sato wants to talk to you. He's waiting outside the classroom."
"Not interested." Akira turned away coldly, signaling the conversation was over.
Ayaka sighed. "Megumi, are you still mad at him? I think he really cares. He wants to get back together."
"Back together?" Akira caught the word. "This Satoru… was my what?"
Ayaka blinked. "Your ex-boyfriend. You two used to be so close. Suzuki Misaki hated you because of him."
Akira's brows furrowed, and I felt a twinge of guilt.
I'd never told him about dating Satoru. I'd assumed he wouldn't care. But now, seeing his reaction, I knew I'd been wrong.
After a moment, Akira spoke slowly. "Let me ask you — do you remember why I broke up with him?"
Ayaka answered without thinking: "You saw him shopping with Misaki. But maybe they were just friends — you should forgive him."
Akira put down his pen. "Take me to him."
Ayaka led him outside, where Satoru was waiting.Satoru Sato straightened up immediately when he saw "Megumi" approaching.
"Megumi…" he began, hope and nervousness in his eyes.
"What do you want? Make it quick," Akira's tone was filled with irritation.
Satoru, thinking that "Kawashima Megumi" was finally willing to speak to him again, couldn't hide the joy in his expression. "About Misaki… it's not what you think."
"What you two have going on has nothing to do with me. And if you're here to talk about the past, let me make this clear — please leave," Akira sneered, as if he'd just heard the most ridiculous joke, then turned to walk away.
"Oh, and by the way," he added before stepping back into the classroom, "I must have been blind to have ever liked you."
I couldn't help but laugh. Of course, Akira was referring to me — I was the one who once fell for Satoru. His bluntness toward Satoru felt incredibly satisfying. If it were me, I could never have said those things out loud.
But then my smile froze.
I saw Akira open his notebook again and write a new name: Satoru Sato.
I sighed softly. Honestly, I didn't care much who Akira wanted to kill. In fact, I was kind of grateful that he could take revenge for me. All those people who hurt me — I did wish they would just die. I didn't have the courage, but Akira clearly did. If those people could finally face justice, I wouldn't be opposed. The only thing I feared… was Akira getting caught, or worse, becoming addicted to killing. His safety was the one thing I truly cared about in this world.
Then I noticed Akira writing something else in the notebook. I leaned over to take a peek.
There were two bold black characters written on the blank page:
"Idiot Sister."