Karuizawa Kei's emotional breakdown happened so suddenly that Kure Ragna barely had time to process it.
One moment, she was fine. The next, she had curled up in her seat like a frightened rabbit.
Some novels describe how people who have killed too much develop a murderous aura, a presence so overwhelming that it can shatter the spirits of ordinary people.
Kure Ragna wasn't sure if that was true. But considering he'd been helping collect ashes at the docks since he was five… he wouldn't be surprised.
Of course, it wasn't because he dreamed of becoming a civil engineer.
Every member of the Kure family had experience in disposing of bodies in one way or another. The simplest method? Tossing them into a cement mixer under the cover of night, waiting for it to harden, then dumping it into the sea.
If done correctly, the body would never be found. If done poorly, the cement might crack, and the corpse would eventually rise to the surface.
Kure Ragna stopped using this method at eight years old.
He'd found a better one.
Asphalt roads.
Unlike cement, asphalt was flexible, meaning it wouldn't crack as easily. Even if a small bump formed on the road, no one would question it. Trucks passed by all the time—uneven pavement was normal.
The only downside was the smell. In summer, body fluids could seep out.
But that was fine. Asphalt had a strong odor anyway. No one would notice.
…
He was getting sidetracked.
Whether murderous aura was real or not, Kure Ragna was sure of one thing—he hadn't directed any hostility toward Karuizawa.
So why had she reacted so intensely?
The answer was obvious.
PTSD.
Somewhere in their conversation, a word, an expression, or even a movement must have triggered a memory buried deep within her.
Kure Ragna sighed and leaned back.
"It's okay. I don't mind." His voice was calm, reassuring.
Karuizawa Kei, who had been frozen just a moment ago, slowly lifted her head. Her tear-streaked face was framed by golden hair, her red eyes shimmering like petals caught in the rain.
"…Really?" she whispered.
"Sorry. I lied."
Before she could react, Kure Ragna flicked her forehead—hard.
"Ow!" Kei clutched her forehead, looking up at him with an expression of betrayal.
He simply withdrew his hand, returning to his seat with a smirk.
"Okay, I'm done."
"Ugh…" Kei puffed her cheeks but quickly dropped her gaze again.
A moment later, she murmured softly, "Sorry… I spilled the water."
"It's fine," Kure Ragna shrugged. "It's just water. I'll mop it up later. The carpet can dry on the balcony. Should be fine by noon tomorrow."
His gaze shifted down.
Her stockings were completely soaked.
"More importantly," he said, "are your legs okay? The water was hot."
"…It's cooling down now," she muttered.
"It must be uncomfortable. You should take them off."
"N-No! That's not necessary!" Kei stammered, her face flushing red.
"Isn't it uncomfortable?"
"…Maybe a little."
"Then just take them off."
"But… but…"
"I'm not going to care about something like that."
"Oh..."
Probably because they really were uncomfortable, Kei hesitated only for a moment before giving in.
She slipped off her slippers, then carefully peeled away the damp fabric, inch by inch, before placing the stockings in an inconspicuous corner of the floor.
Then, she pulled her legs up, resting them on her fists to keep them off the floor.
The soft light reflected off her bare feet, making them glisten slightly with moisture.
Kure Ragna glanced at them briefly before looking away.
"Alright," he said. "Back to the main topic. What happened just now? And what did you mean when you said eating hotpot with me had something to do with Hirata's bad behavior?"
"…Which one should I answer first?"
"Either is fine."
Kei hesitated.
"Then… the second one first."
She peeked at him cautiously, her toes fidgeting slightly. After making sure he wasn't upset, she continued.
"Last night, when Shinohara and the others were shopping, I passed by the hotpot restaurant. I smelled the food and glanced inside… and I saw you sitting with Sakayanagi from Class A."
"…That's it?"
"That's it."
She paused, as if realizing she had left something out, then quickly added,
"You two looked really close. Like… a couple."
Huh.
This girl's perception was surprisingly sharp.
Kure Ragna shook his head. "She's not my girlfriend."
Kei blinked. "Really? Are you sure? Even from a distance, I could tell you treat her differently than other students."
She furrowed her brows.
"Hirata-san isn't like that at all."
Kure Ragna raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Kei's lips curled slightly, but there was a trace of bitterness in her smile.
"Have you ever heard of 'central air conditioners'?"
"People who spread warmth to everyone indiscriminately?"
"Exactly. That's Hirata. If he actually liked someone, his attitude would be different. But since he's faking it… he can't fully commit."
She took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly.
"…About my earlier reaction," she said. "I'm sorry. I lied before. Wanting a boyfriend was only a small part of the reason."
Her hands clenched around the hem of her shirt.
"The real reason is this."
As if making a decision, she averted her gaze and slowly lifted her shirt.
Inch by inch.
The smooth, pale skin of her abdomen came into view.
And then—
Kure Ragna's expression shifted.
His gaze locked onto an old scar.
A deep, unmistakable wound.