The silence in the interrogation room was almost deafening.
Zhu Yuan sat across from the boy—no, the weapon—that the world had come to know as "Ghost." He looked even smaller under the pale lights, his face pale and his eyes nearly lifeless. The cuffs around his wrists weren't necessary; he hadn't resisted once since the moment he surrendered. Still, protocol remained.
At first, Zhu had prepared herself to be ruthless.
To interrogate him like the monster everyone said he was.
But the moment she looked into his face—still young, still haunted—she paused.
This wasn't a battle-hardened war criminal. This was a child. A broken one.
Zhu inhaled deeply and then exhaled. She opened her notepad and leaned forward.
"Let's begin," she said softly. "What's your real name?"
For a moment, there was no answer. Then, a voice barely above a whisper:
"Itsumi Kahaderi Matzuri."
Zhu's brow furrowed.
That name... it tugged at something distant, like a whisper of the past. She flipped open her laptop, pulling up access to public records, both medical and educational.
Only one document came up: a birth certificate. Itsumi Kahaderi Matzuri, born fifteen years ago.
No school records. No hospital visits. No adoption trail.
Only a name.
"…That's not possible," Zhu muttered. "There's nothing else…"
She looked up, "Were you homeschooled? In hiding? Why is there no record after your birth?"
Itsumi kept his eyes low. "I was taken. When I was five."
Zhu paused. "Taken?"
"Search for: 'Kahaderi family murdered.'"
Her fingers flew across the keyboard. Seconds later, the article appeared. A breaking report from ten years ago. An entire family massacred in their home. One body was never found—the youngest son. Presumed kidnapped or burned beyond recognition.
Zhu stared at the old photo of the child, then slowly looked back at the boy in front of her. The resemblance was unmistakable. The eyes, the hair, even the shape of his face.
A missing child… turned into a phantom killer.
The report said the case had gone cold within months. No suspects. No leads. The trail had gone dead.
Until now.
She felt her throat tighten. "So... you've been missing this whole time?"
Itsumi nodded once.
"Who took you?"
He paused, then answered.
"Axios. That was his code name. Real name… Vasil de la Manta."
Zhu's fingers trembled as she typed. The name appeared—former political figure of a dissolved regime. Accused of war crimes, suspected of funding paramilitary operations, but nothing ever proven. He had disappeared from public records years ago.
Zhu's eyes flicked back to the boy. "He… he was the one who turned you into this?"
Itsumi nodded again.
Zhu lowered her voice.
"…What did he do to you?"
Silence filled the room again. Itsumi looked at the floor.
"…He broke me."
The words hit her like a blade. Simple. Hollow. Honest.
"He trained me to kill. Tortured me. Told me emotions were weaknesses. I obeyed… or others died."
Zhu looked away. Her stomach churned.
This wasn't just some killer. This wasn't someone who chose this path.
This was a child who never had a choice.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "And the tracker? That was how Axios kept you on a leash?"
Itsumi pointed at the wound in his neck. Fresh, raw. Still slightly bleeding.
"I cut it out."
The room fell into another silence, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.
Zhu finally closed her laptop and looked him in the eyes.
"…Why did you turn yourself in?"
He didn't answer.
Not with words.
He didn't have to.
Zhu saw it—buried under the trauma, under the ghost-like stare, under all the blood on his hands—there was something left. Something human.
Something that still wanted to be saved.