Chapter 16

Under the keen observation of the cosplayer, the girl’s disguise was so clumsy it was almost negligible.

The cosplayer was certain he had never seen this girl before, let alone had any contact with her... In short, it was impossible for her to know him.

—Yet, strangely, she did know him.

Undeniably, the girl stirred both his curiosity and his caution.

The cosplayer activated his ability; his soul seemed to pierce through a barrier, sending a familiar sensation of ‘shattering.’ He had felt this before when entering the mental worlds of Source Naibo and cursed spirits.

[“You are the family’s precious treasure.”
“My princess.”
“Use your ability. Tell me what you see.”
...]

A man’s muttering echoed through the pitch-black space.

Then countless characters appeared:
[Hate, no, disgust, disappointment, pain...
I never wanted to hurt anyone.]

‘Clang clang’—the sound of iron striking echoed from the depths, and the cosplayer’s gaze shifted to the distance, as if sensing something.

About six seconds later, several iron chains suddenly shot out, wrapping tightly around the characters, binding them securely. The characters swelled angrily like a person in rage, struggling to break free from the shackles. Yet, they were ultimately no match and soon shriveled like a deflated balloon, as if resigned to fate.

Since this was the girl’s mental world, the cosplayer speculated that the reaction corresponded to a controlled state in reality.

Coupled with the man’s voice he had just heard, this inexplicably familiar girl seemed no ordinary person—“see”...? See what? The future...?

The cosplayer pondered thoughtfully, then without hesitation charged at the characters.

The pitch-black mental world was instantly filled with vivid colors. Before him appeared a princess’s chamber.

The room was predominantly pink and white, with pink wallpaper adorned with flowers, butterflies, dandelions, and clouds, exuding a fairy-tale charm. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. On either side of the three-meter-wide bed’s headboard sat two life-sized plush toys: a smiling brown bear on the left and a shy white rabbit on the right. The rabbit’s cheeks were intentionally blushed, making it appear even cuter, and it wore a yellow lace princess dress. The bear was dressed in a tailcoat, like a little gentleman.

The cosplayer took a quick survey of the room, then his gaze settled on a little girl crouched sobbing in the corner.

With that tuft of hair sticking up, it was not hard to guess this was the girl in her childhood.

He approached, paused, bent down, and reached out to pat the girl’s shoulder.

A childlike, tender voice, tinged with grievance, whispered in the cosplayer’s ear:

‘Father lied. He promised me he wouldn’t trouble the Asami family. I was the one who told him...’

‘Liar, deceiver... Just like last time with Miyaku-kun, and also Izumi, Naoko, Kōei-kun...’

‘I never wanted to hurt anyone.’

As the little girl vented her negative emotions, a vast cluster of brilliant red spider lilies unfurled their curling, slender petals, enveloping the cosplayer.

A rich, intoxicating fragrance wafted to his nose, as if capable of piercing the soul. Like a devil’s whisper, it stirred the darkest malice deep within.

His breath quickened briefly.

The delicate princess room gave way to barren soil and spider lilies growing wild upon it. The gloomy sky hung low, and the howling wind sounded like sharp, ghostly laughter, or mournful sobbing.

Suddenly, a small figure dashed out, her long hair trailing an arc in the air.

The cosplayer’s gaze followed her every movement.

This space seemed to exist in infinite layers; although the girl appeared to run far, to the cosplayer it seemed she stopped after a certain distance, while the surroundings continuously fell backward.

...It seemed that though he remained still, the entire space moved with her steps.

A slender figure gradually emerged ahead.

Upon seeing that figure, the girl’s pace visibly quickened.

She panted heavily, rushing toward the figure who instinctively opened arms wide, bending forward as if to catch her.

The figure embraced the girl, lifting her by the knees.

After this, the figure raised his head to look at the cosplayer.

His face was blurred, as if hidden behind dense fog. The cosplayer squinted.

Suddenly, the figure raised his other empty hand, fingers together except for the index finger raised to his lips—a classic gesture of silence.

The cosplayer’s calm expression began to crack.

...As the figure’s face became clear, the cosplayer saw a face identical to his own, or rather, identical to the original he was cosplaying.

“When will you come to get me? Or where must I go to see you?” the girl’s voice urgently sounded.

The cosplayer heard ‘his own’ voice from the figure’s mouth: “My girl, do not rush. You will see me... in the not-too-distant future.”

...The fragrance of flowers and a strong wind surged forward.

Countless spider lily petals swirled up, some obscuring the cosplayer’s vision.

As his sight was covered in blood-red, the cosplayer felt a mental jolt, then suddenly returned to reality.

*

Time in the mental space seemed to have passed considerably, yet in reality it was but a fleeting moment, so brief that almost no one could have noticed— and even if they had, they could never have guessed the truth.

The girl’s silver hair looked dyed, and her pink irises were unnatural.

She pretended to be composed, but the fervor in her eyes was so intense it seemed to overflow; the tuft of hair atop her head spun rapidly like a propeller.

This young lady, nurtured and carefully raised in a sheltered environment, was clearly unskilled in cultivation, her acting pitifully unconvincing—worse than a child.

Gazing into her burning eyes, the cosplayer paused, recalling how the figure in the mental world had addressed her. Mimicking that tone, he called out, “Koto.”

The girl’s eyes immediately shone like clear mirrors. She leaned forward, then abruptly stopped, seemingly about to throw herself into his arms. But considering his physical condition, she restrained herself, instead responding with a strong “Mm!” and eagerly began reporting her situation over the years:

“I’ve been pretending to obey Father while building my own power... Now I have the ability to assist you.”

In truth, Koto knew Feodor was using her. But her father was using her as well—and had driven her mother to death—

Since she was merely a tool, choosing the right master was crucial.

Her father had always taught her this.

Thinking of that man’s nauseating face and ceaseless words, the girl’s pink eyes darkened with a profound shadow. A terrifying malice twisted within them, engulfing her gaze.

...Koto once had a kind and gentle mother, who later committed suicide. Koto was only five then. That day, she had wanted to share the joy of topping an exam with her mother, but instead witnessed her lying in the bathtub, drowned in her own blood.

Koto’s father was a ruthless opportunist, caring only for gain, devoid of feeling.

He easily drove his wife mad with words, leading to her suicide.

Then he psychologically manipulated his daughter, who possessed special abilities, extracting intelligence from her to gain benefits.

Koto resented that man, yet she could not deny that his blood ran through her veins. Her coldness and ruthlessness were no less than his.

The girl placed her left hand behind her back, gently took hold of the cosplayer’s angular hand with her right, bowed slightly, and in a tender voice vowed, “Please give the orders.”