The abandoned house stood at the edge of the city, swallowed by creeping vines and the weight of forgotten years. Moonlight spilled through the broken windows, casting fractured patterns across the dust-covered floor. The air was thick with the damp, musty scent of neglect.
A fitting place for goodbyes.
I stood near the doorway, arms crossed, my posture tense. My expression was blank, cold even, but inside, my heart was a storm barely held together.
I had to do this. I had to make her leave.
Ayane stood a few feet away, her dark purple hair catching the pale light as she glared at me, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
"You can't be serious," she said.
"I am," I replied flatly.
Her fists clenched at her sides as she stepped closer. "You want to throw everything away? After everything we've been through?"
I exhaled sharply. "There's nothing to throw away."
She sucked in a quiet breath, masking it with a bitter laugh. "Nothing?"
I forced myself to meet her eyes, making sure she saw only the indifference I was faking. "I never needed you, Ayane."
The words came out sharper than I intended, but that was good. If she hated me, if she walked away despising me, then she'd be safe.
For a moment, she just stood there, unreadable. Then she shook her head. "That's a lie."
I shrugged. "Think what you want."
Her hands trembled for a second before she tightened them into fists. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, more controlled. "Is there a problem, Ken?" she asked. "If there is, tell me. We can fix it. We're the strongest together—you know that."
I hesitated. A second too long.
Her eyes searched mine, looking for something, anything to prove her right. But I forced myself to shut her out.
"I gave you a place because I pitied you," I said, my voice colder than ice. "I picked you up off the street when you had nothing, Ayane. Don't forget that." I let out a hollow chuckle, shaking my head. "And honestly? I thought you might be useful. Maybe even entertaining. Something to keep around for my own enjoyment."
Silence.
The air between us grew heavier. The moonlight no longer felt soft—it was cold, lifeless, like the space between us.
Ayane didn't move, didn't speak. Her lips parted slightly, as if the words had physically struck her. But then she inhaled slowly, forcing herself to steady.
When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, rawer. "You're lying."
I scoffed. "Believe what you want."
A long silence stretched between us. The old wooden beams groaned, as if they, too, wanted to stop this moment from happening.
Then, she swallowed hard. "And what happens to me now? If you abandon me?"
I didn't let my expression change. I met her gaze, unwavering, before saying the words that would break us both.
"That's not my problem."
Her breath hitched, her fingers twitching at her sides. And then, without warning—
A sharp crack echoed in the empty house.
My head jerked slightly to the side, my cheek stinging from the force of her slap.
For a second, neither of us moved.
Ayane's hand lingered in the air before she let it drop, her fingers curling slightly as if resisting the urge to tremble.
I slowly turned back to face her.
Then—I smirked.
"You really have no sense of self-preservation, do you?" My voice was low, almost amused.
Ayane's fists clenched, but she didn't move.
I tilted my head slightly, rolling my jaw as if testing the sting. Then, in a slow, lazy drawl, I added, "Maybe I should kill you now for your manners."
The words hung in the air between us, sharp, suffocating.
Her eyes widened slightly—not in fear, but in disbelief. She knew me. She knew what I was capable of.
But she didn't flinch.
I let out a short chuckle. "But… I'm in a good mood. So I'll let it slide."
Her breathing was steady, but I could see the tightness in her posture—the way her shoulders rose and fell, the way her fingers twitched as if restraining the urge to strike me again.
She exhaled sharply and turned away. "I should hate you," she murmured. "You want me to hate you, don't you?"
I didn't answer.
She inhaled sharply, blinking fast, but still, no tears fell.
"I won't give you the satisfaction," she whispered. Her voice wavered, just slightly, before she strode toward the door.
I didn't stop her. I didn't say her name. I didn't let my mask crack.
The old door creaked as she pushed it open, and for a moment, the night swallowed her whole.
I finally let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
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