Chapter 81 – Blood Ties
It was Ryu.
For a heartbeat, Lily thought her eyes were deceiving her. She blinked, hard, the air catching in her throat as though the world itself had stopped breathing. But no—it was truly him. Her brother. Her blood.
Her knees nearly buckled with relief. Tears welled up instantly, burning her eyes before spilling down her cheeks. A sound, half-sob and half-laughter, escaped her lips as she stumbled forward. She didn't think. She didn't question. She simply ran into his arms as if she had been drowning all this time and had finally reached the shore.
Her body collapsed against his chest, trembling uncontrollably. Her hands clawed at his shirt, clutching fistfuls of fabric like a desperate child. Her face pressed against him, soaking his clothes with tears. Every breath that left her was jagged, broken, and full of pain that had been festering for months.
"Brother…" she sobbed, her voice raw, "why me? Why was it me?"
Her words fell out in stammers, each one cutting into the silence like glass against skin.
"What did I do wrong? What sin did I commit? Why has all of this happened to me?"
Her little boy, Jeff, was still cradled in her lap. His big eyes, wide with innocence, stared up at the tall figure his mother was holding onto so tightly. He didn't understand the gravity of the moment, but he felt the tension, the tears, the shaking. His small fingers clung to Lily's dress, hiding his face against her blood-soaked skirt.
Ryu's hand rose slowly, hesitantly, and settled against Lily's back. His palm trembled as though the simple act of comforting her weighed heavier than lifting the world. He stroked her hair once, twice, as if memorizing the softness of each strand.
For a long moment, he didn't speak. The silence stretched, filled only by Lily's sobs, the faint whistle of the night wind seeping through the station walls, and the distant creak of old wood.
Then, his lips moved. His voice was gentle, almost too gentle—like a lullaby meant to soothe a child before leading them into the dark.
"Sorry, princess," he whispered.
And then—
Khachak!
The sound was sharp, unnatural. A blade tearing through flesh.
Lily's body stiffened, her back arching as though lightning had struck her spine. Her mouth fell open, but no scream came out—only a silent gasp of shock.
She stumbled backward, her hands flying to her stomach. Her fingers met something warm. Wet. Sticky. She looked down.
Blood.
It seeped between her trembling hands, dark and endless, soaking into her dress, dripping down her thighs and onto the dusty wooden floor beneath her.
Her eyes widened, glassy with terror. "B–Brothe…?"
Her voice broke halfway through the word, shattering like a fragile vase hitting the ground.
Her knees gave out. She collapsed, slumping against the floor, one hand desperately pressing against the wound, trying to keep herself together—trying to hold in her life with sheer will. Her other hand groped blindly, trembling in the air as though searching for something, someone to hold onto.
Her breaths came shallow, ragged. She coughed, crimson flecks spraying her lips. Her eyes locked on Ryu's face, and what she saw there made her chest ache worse than the knife buried in her belly.
Tears. Real tears.
"Why…?" Her voice was a broken whisper, weak and desperate. "Why did you do this? Do you… do you also think I killed those people?"
The words sliced through Ryu like a thousand knives. His eyes brimmed, overflowing. He shook his head violently, his hair falling across his damp face.
"No!" His voice cracked, rough with grief. "No, Lily. I never thought that. I swear—on my soul, I never believed that."
His lips trembled. His body shook as though he were fighting some invisible battle inside himself. "But forgive me, little sister. Forgive me… for everything."
Her vision blurred, the edges of the room darkening. Her head swam, her body trembling with weakness. "What… what are you saying?"
Ryu closed his eyes. His breath came ragged, like a man drowning and clawing for air. He inhaled deeply, as though gathering strength, and then exhaled words heavy with poison.
"Since you're dying anyway…" His voice was low, unsteady, and shaking. "I'll tell you the truth."
He opened his eyes, and in them there was something hollow, broken, monstrous.
"Albert wasn't the killer," he whispered. "I was."
The world seemed to fall silent.
Lily's pupils shrank. Her blood-soaked hand trembled against her stomach. She froze, her breath catching as though her lungs refused to accept the truth.
Her brother's voice carried on, relentless, each word hammering nails into her heart.
"All those children… every single one of them—I killed them. Not Albert. Me."
Lily's cracked lips parted. A faint rasp escaped, almost inaudible. "No… no, that can't be…"
Her mind reeled. Images flashed in her head—the funerals, the grieving mothers, the empty cradles.
Ryu's eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as if he couldn't bear her gaze. When he spoke again, his voice was bitter, cracked.
"Albert's only crime was his appetite. He loved raw flesh—rabbit, lamb. That's all. He hid it from everyone so they wouldn't look at him like a monster. Only I knew. That's why… when you came to me about bones from the yard… I knew instantly what you had found wasn't human. It was just animal remains."
Lily's lips trembled. Her heart pounded weakly in her chest.
She had built her fears, her suspicions, her guilt upon those bones—and now to hear they were nothing but animals? Her world felt as if it had turned upside down.
Her tears fell hot and fast, mixing with the blood that trickled down her chin. "Then… then why?" Her voice broke into a scream of pain and fury. "Why would you kill those children?"
Ryu's mouth twisted into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. It was the smile of a man consumed by shadows, one who had crossed a line long ago.
"For power," he said, almost laughing. "For money. For black magic."
His eyes gleamed with madness as his voice grew darker. "And after sacrificing so many strangers' children… I needed the blood of a relative. So I framed Albert… but Albert wasn't my blood. You are."
Lily shook her head violently, her hair matted with sweat and blood. "No… you're lying. You're lying!"
Her heart refused to believe. But her body, her wound, and the knife in his hand told her the cruel truth.
Ryu stepped closer, his hand tightening around the blade, his face streaked with tears.
"The police reports you trusted?" His voice was bitter. The day you went to the market, I planted bones in your yard. Children's bones. I made sure suspicion would find Albert. You were just a piece of my game."
Shock drained from Lily's face, replaced by something else—fury. A raw, unfiltered rage.
Even as her body weakened, even as blood pooled beneath her, her eyes lit with fire.
Lily's lips trembled. Her world shattered, everything she thought she knew flipping upside down.
Shock drained from Lily's pale face, replaced now by something primal. A fury so raw, so consuming, it pushed against the fog of pain threatening to drown her. It surged through her veins like fire, burning away weakness, giving her just enough strength to stand.
Her legs trembled. Her dress clung wet to her body. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, every inhale slicing her chest open, but she stood.
Ryu stepped closer. His shadow fell across her. His eyes were wet, but his grip on the knife was steady. He raised it above his head, the blade catching the dim light, trembling with deadly intent.
This was it—the final blow.
But Lily's eyes flashed with defiance. With a guttural cry born from desperation, she thrust both hands forward. The force of her shove surprised even her—it sent Ryu staggering back, his knife arm flailing as he tried to regain balance.
Her chest heaved, her vision swimming, but she did not wait. She bent low, scooping Jeff into her arms. His little arms wrapped instantly around her neck, his cries piercing the night.
"Mama! Mama!" he wailed, voice cracking with terror.
"Hold on, baby," she whispered, though her own voice broke. "Hold on to Mama."
And then—she ran.
Her bare feet slapped against the cold ground, smearing crimson footprints across the railway tracks. Every step sent a burning pain through her gut, her wound tearing wider, but she pushed forward. Her blood poured freely, trailing behind her like a red ribbon guiding the devil to her path.
Jeff clung tighter, burying his face in her shoulder, trembling with sobs. His tiny hands dug into her flesh, as though by holding her harder he could keep the world from falling apart.
The tracks stretched endlessly ahead, swallowed by darkness. The silence of the night was broken only by the pounding of her footsteps and the ragged rasp of her breathing.
Then—
DOOOOOOM!
The sound hit first. A metallic thunder rolling through the night, shaking the air, rattling the rails beneath her. The steel began to hum under her feet.
Her eyes widened in horror. She turned her head and saw it—
The train.
Its headlights burst through the dark like the eyes of some mechanical beast. Its roar was deafening, its wheels screaming against the rails, sparks flying like embers from hell. It bore down on her with unstoppable force, a predator locked on its prey.
"No…" she gasped, clutching Jeff tighter. "Not my baby… not my baby!"
Her legs pumped harder, but they were heavy, sluggish, soaked with blood. Her strength faltered.
The train was almost upon them.
And then the world ended in a single scream.
CRAAAAASH!
Metal crushed flesh and bone.
The impact was brutal, merciless. The train struck her from behind, its monstrous weight cleaving through her fragile body. Her back arched, her mouth opened wide in a silent cry, and then—she was gone.
She was dragged under, her limbs twisted, bones shattering like brittle sticks. The wheels carved her open, pulling pieces of her into the grinding machinery. Her scream was lost to the thunder of steel.
Jeff's tiny body was flung forward from her arms. The boy hit the rail with a sickening crack, his small frame folding unnaturally. The steel wheels caught him next, cutting him in half with horrifying ease. His body split, his face crumpled. His last word—"Mama"—was sliced in half with him, silenced forever.
When the train finally roared past, the world was left in ruinous quiet.
The tracks glistened with blood. Shreds of cloth hung from jagged metal. What remained of Lily was hardly recognizable as human—her body mangled, torn, and scattered in grotesque pieces. Her arm dangled at an unnatural angle from beneath a twisted rail, her face half-crushed, eyes staring blankly at the starless sky.
Jeff's remains lay nearby, pitifully small, his body broken beyond mercy.
Ryu stumbled forward. His knife slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground. His face was pale, drained of all color, his breaths sharp and uneven. His eyes fell upon the carnage, and his body shook.
He dropped to his knees. Tears streaked his cheeks, dripping into the blood at his feet. His lips trembled as he whispered hoarsely:
"Forgive me… my sister…"
His hands—those same hands that had killed countless children—now trembled as they reached out. With a care that felt almost reverent, he began gathering what was left. He lifted Jeff first, his tiny body limp, his broken head hanging unnaturally. Ryu cradled him like a father might cradle a sleeping son, his tears falling faster.
Then Lily. Her body was heavier, ruined. He pulled her together piece by piece, wrapping her torn frame as though trying to give her dignity in death. His face was expressionless now, stone-like, drained of all humanity. The ritual, the blood, the deaths—everything had hollowed him out.
He dragged an old sack from the corner of the platform and stuffed them inside. The sound of their lifeless bodies sliding into the bag was wet, grotesque, final.
He tied the sack shut. His breath came slow, deliberate, as though each knot sealed a chapter of his soul.
The station was eerily silent now. No footsteps. No voices. Only the faint hum of the rails cooling after the train's passage.
Ryu slung the sack over his shoulder. He carried it down the narrow corridor of the deserted station, his steps echoing off the cracked walls. He entered the station master's office—an empty, dusty room, reeking of damp wood and stale air.
There, in the corner, stood an old iron bedframe. Its mattress sagged, half-eaten by moths. Ryu knelt, pushed the sack beneath it, and slid it into the shadows.
The corpses disappeared into darkness, hidden like secrets too foul to ever see daylight.
He sat back, his hands red, his eyes hollow.
Albert had been the butcher.
Lily had been the grieving mother searching for her son.
And Ryu—her brother—had been the true devil all along.
To be continued…