Uehara Emika often fantasized about slicing open the belly of that woman named Karuizawa Kei with the knife in her hand. She would habitually choose areas that—even if they left a scar—wouldn't be too conspicuous. She understood all too well that if she were to leave a mark on Karuizawa Kei's face, it might push her to the brink of collapse in the short term, but it would also greatly increase the chances that Kei would completely give up on herself.
A hidden yet profound scar—ideally, something that would make Kei relapse into fear the moment she touched or even caught sight of it.
Something that would force her to acknowledge the fact that she was a wretched, bullied victim. It would be like branding her with a red-hot iron.
Unfortunately, the current situation no longer allowed for such indulgence.
Emika stared emotionlessly at the object before her that let out a wet splattering splsh sound. It rolled toward the windowsill, and under the sunlight, its true nature was revealed.
It was a man's face—sliced open vertically.
Severed completely from his neck.
Half of the skinned face rolled to her feet.
Its "inside" was facing upward.
It was a color Emika had never seen before—a grotesquely rare anatomical cross-section.
The crushed, fragmented brain emitted an unnatural sheen. The deformed skull, not fully severed, was mixed with blood overflowing from within, along with other thick bodily fluids.
Emika glanced once at her mother, who was cowering speechless in the corner of the room. Without hurrying, she walked to the kitchen sink and began rinsing her face. Only after a brief spell of numbness did she realize that the blood splattered on her face had already begun to flow freely down her chest—then further, like a serpent crawling in the dark, sparking embers as it went.
After she cleaned the blood from her face, Emika casually removed the apron she had been wearing. Crimson stains slowly spread across the pale blue fabric, slightly yellowed with age. She balled it up and tossed it aside.
Then, Emika began carefully examining the knife in her hand. With her other hand, she picked at the bone fragments clinging to the blade—tiny chips already soaked in blood, glimmering red. Her movements were slow, yet meticulous.
"I killed him."
Before leaving the house, Uehara Emika turned toward her mother in the corner and said just two things:
"That's all you need to say."
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"I truly don't know anything. So everything I said just now was merely hypothetical—an 'if.'"
The conversation between Karuizawa Kei and Horikita Suzune continued. Horikita nodded seriously.
"One of humanity's most admirable abilities," she said, "is the ability to change."
"If you're able to do that, you can become better than you were the day before. And with enough time and effort—"
Horikita Suzune had a clear goal and path ahead of her. Even though, in Kitagawa Ryo's eyes, it might be an absurdly crooked one, it was still a path she had planned and persisted in for the sake of her objective. The things she said now were born from that growth.
But Karuizawa Kei cut her off sharply:
"And what if you die?"
Karuizawa reached up and brushed aside her bangs on the right side, revealing a scar six or seven centimeters long, winding like a centipede across her scalp. She coldly smirked in a self-deprecating way as she exposed the wound to Horikita Suzune.
Since Horikita liked tearing through people's façades so much, Kei figured she might as well lay her past bare. She would make it clear—yes, everything about her was fake. Everything was an act. Deep down, she was a weak, useless girl—someone fragile enough to have nearly died.
"Do you know why I didn't want Ryo and Uehara Emika to meet alone?"
At last, Karuizawa Kei seized control of the conversation. With a tone of bitter surrender, she began to speak.
The truth was, Uehara Emika and Karuizawa Kei were not entirely strangers. The scar on Kei's head—it was Uehara Emika's handiwork.
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Kitagawa Ryo wasn't surprised that Uehara Emika had shown up right on time. Both of them likely understood what the other intended—nothing more than wanting to completely drive the other out of Karuizawa Kei's life.
One side was acting entirely out of protection.
The other, entirely out of malice.
"...Second time we've met."
Their meeting took place in a private room of a restaurant. Yet the table bore no food or drinks—only a pure white tablecloth.
"Yeah."
Uehara Emika was even calmer than Kitagawa Ryo had expected. She set her bag aside, placing both hands on the table within Ryo's line of sight.
"You want to talk about Karuizawa Kei, don't you?"
"But I assume you've already investigated everything. Maybe you know even more than I do—as the person actually involved. Like those rumors about Wakada, for instance."
Uehara Emika looked him directly in the eye.
"But none of that is enough to convict me. Or rather, not to the extent you want."
"Right?"
"Half right," Kitagawa Ryo replied lightly.
"But the real reason I called you here today is to clarify just one thing."
"Do I have to answer it?"
"I imagine your mother, having lost both her husband and daughter, might need a little help surviving."
Ryo glanced down at Emika's hands.
"Even though you've deliberately trimmed your nails short, there's still red visible in the creases. And last time I saw you, your manicure didn't include anything that shade of crimson, did it?"
"Guess time was too short? Couldn't wash it all off?"
Emika didn't flinch. Instead, she openly fiddled with her nails.
"Should've just left them as they were."
Just as Ryo had predicted, Emika still harbored a small sliver of guilt toward her mother. That's why he was already sure—before this meeting—that she would choose to end her father's life.
After her failed move against Karuizawa Kei, it was as if she had no desire left to keep living. With someone like that, nothing she might do would be surprising.
"So, what do you want to know? Better ask while I'm still in a decent mood."
Emika smiled coolly, as though recalling the man whose head she had sliced off in his sleep.
"I want to know what happened between you and Kei during that month before I left Tokyo."
Kitagawa Ryo's gaze locked tightly onto her eyes.
"Why did Kei keep insisting on meeting you alone?"
"Oh, that," Emika said, her lips curling into a playful smirk.
"Looks like things between the two of you aren't as solid as I thought."
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Karuizawa Kei began recounting the story between herself and Uehara Emika—a memory she clearly didn't want to revisit. At times, she would pause, as if struggling to overcome the discomfort rising from deep within her.
After turning from a bullied victim into a bully herself, Uehara Emika didn't just take revenge on the girls from her own class who had once tormented her. She also frequently targeted girls from other classes. Her favorite routine was to stand outside someone's classroom after school, chewing on a toothpick or a piece of grass, lying in wait like a predator.
She rarely used actual violence. At most, she would block someone's way and refuse to let them leave. Unlike some bullies who would drag their victims into the woods and extort money, Emika's bullying resembled a performance.
That's why she did it at classroom doors—because she needed an audience. The more students gathered to watch, the more triumphant she felt. The girls she blocked were little more than props. She didn't care who they were. All she needed was for people to see her, to stamp her identity as a "bully" into their minds.
This immature behavior continued all the way until graduation approached—until one day, Karuizawa Kei stepped in to stop her.
"Why?" Horikita Suzune asked bluntly.
"Maybe I just suddenly couldn't stand it anymore," Kei replied vaguely.
"Then why didn't you stop her earlier? Why wait until right before graduation?"
"Because I had just escaped from being bullied myself. I wasn't about to pick fights with people like her... Maybe I remembered how Ryo used to protect me. Maybe I wanted to try becoming someone who could protect others, too."
Horikita gave a small nod, signaling her to continue.
But back then, Uehara Emika reacted to Kei's defiance with clear hostility and disgust—though Kei hadn't realized it at the time. That was the first time she ever stood up to a bully.
"Don't do this—anymore."
Her last word broke slightly—because she saw Emika reach into her bag, a flash of cold metal glinting ominously.
She remembered the rumors: Uehara Emika always carried a knife.
"If you've decided to protect her, then come with me alone."
Emika didn't pull out the knife in front of everyone. Instead, she pointed toward a secluded area off campus.
"Do you dare?"
Back then, Karuizawa Kei completely forgot that Kitagawa Ryo wasn't by her side. She didn't believe someone could actually stab another person with a knife—it had to be a bluff. So she clenched her jaw and said:
"Fine, I'll go."
"So you followed her—and that's how you got this scar?" Horikita's voice remained even, her tone flat, as she began piecing the story together herself.
Kei looked up at her. The air between them suddenly felt thick and heavy, like molten syrup sinking into her lungs. Her vocal cords seemed glued shut.
The tension tightened, like a bowstring being pulled to its limit—an arrow ready to fly at any moment.
"Yes."
Karuizawa Kei uttered that one word as if casting off a thousand-pound burden. She was finally admitting to her own weakness.
"That's when I first realized how terrifying bullying could truly be."
Holding her head, she seemed lost in the memory. At that moment, she looked so fragile—like a soft-bodied creature without a shell. Anything could harm her. Even her shadow on the floor looked like it might collapse.
For the first time, Horikita Suzune fell silent. She couldn't bring herself to reprimand a girl like this.
Perhaps, for someone who had already endured such pain, simply surviving—like a parasite clinging to life—was the best ending she could ask for.
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"I never meant to hurt her. I never even thought of laying a hand on her."
Uehara Emika propped her head up with one hand, reminiscing about that day.
"To be honest, I didn't even understand why Karuizawa Kei suddenly stepped in to stop me. She was someone who had only escaped bullying thanks to you. She could only smile each day because she was under your protection."
"How could someone like her have the courage to protect others? She couldn't even protect herself."
There was a flicker of superiority in her voice as Emika sneered:
"Back then, Karuizawa Kei was trembling. She could barely speak. And let's be real—you hadn't even left Tokyo at the time. There's no way I would've hurt her with you still around."
"I was just giving her an out, honestly. If she wanted to play the hero, then fine—let her."
"I see," Kitagawa Ryo murmured as he traced a finger along the smooth white tablecloth, his eyes lowered.
"So, what exactly happened between the two of you when you were alone?"
"...Do you really not know? Or do you just want me to spell it out?"
Uehara Emika grinned provocatively at him, like she could burst out laughing any second.
"So she really didn't tell you. You're just another one of her fooled victims."
"Be clear."
Ryo's black pupils locked onto Emika's mouth, as if determined to extract a specific truth.
"I already said—I didn't touch her."
Emika crossed her arms and deliberately raised her voice:
"So then tell me—who did leave that scar on her?"
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How does a pale paper rose pretend to be a red one?
Pour blood over it.
[CG Scene: The Little Prince and the Rose – End of Chapter.]