Kanjuro led Mine Fujiko through the streets where neon lights were gradually flickering on, finally stopping in front of a hotel that was exquisitely decorated but exuded a certain ambiguous atmosphere.
Mine Fujiko looked at the flashing "Hotel" sign before her, then looked up at Kanjuro's profile, which still wore that gentle smile. Her feet suddenly froze in place, and a chill mixed with a sense of unbelievable absurdity instantly surged from the soles of her feet to the top of her head.
She forcefully shook off Kanjuro's hand, stepping back half a pace as if she had been burned. Her voice rose slightly due to shock and a subconscious trace of fear:
"This... this is the place you brought me to 'understand'? A hotel?!"
She looked at Kanjuro, her eyes full of confusion and wariness. "Kanjuro! I... I just wanted to know why Mom and those people are so... obsessed with you! I wanted to know the reason! Not to... not to..."
She was too ashamed to say the words that followed, but the meaning was already more than clear. A terrifying guess screamed wildly in her mind, making her whole body go cold.
Could his so-called "charm" be this... this kind of filthy method?
Kanjuro looked at her sudden defensiveness, like a startled fawn. The gentle smile on his face did not fade but instead deepened. However, that smile didn't reach his eyes; instead, it made his gaze appear even deeper and more inscrutable, carrying a playful sense of insight into the human heart.
"The reason?" he repeated softly, taking a step closer. His tall silhouette cast a shadow from the hotel lights, carrying a sense of oppression. "Didn't I tell you? Being 'handsome' enough to defy everything."
His gaze was like something physical, slowly sweeping over Mine Fujiko's cheeks, which were slightly flushed from tension, finally settling on her eyes—eyes that somewhat resembled his own and were now filled with panic.
"Words are hollow; feelings are real." His voice was low, carrying a captivating magnetism. "Don't you want to know why they are beyond saving? Want to know what kind of existence that 'attraction' really is?"
He leaned in slightly, close to her ear, but the words he spoke made her feel as if she had fallen into an ice cellar:
"Here, I can let you... 'experience' it for yourself."
"In the most direct way, I'll tell you the answer."
"Isn't this the 'truth' you've been chasing me for?"
The address of those last few words was uttered by him in an extremely slow manner, with a special emphasis and a subtle, intimate tone.
Mine Fujiko only felt a chill crawl up her entire body along her spine, and her blood seemed to freeze.
She looked at the handsome, almost demonic face so close at hand. Her heart pounded wildly—not from attraction, but from immense fear and an anger at being completely violated.
She finally realized clearly what kind of dangerous, bottomless, and... insane existence she was facing.
His so-called charm was not just that face, but this demonic essence that ignored all rules, trampled on all common sense, and toyed with the human heart!
"You... you're crazy!" Mine Fujiko's voice trembled as she backed away again until her back hit the cold wall, leaving her with no way to retreat.
Kanjuro straightened up, watching her fearful yet stubborn appearance with leisure, as if appreciating an interesting play.
He didn't forcibly pull her; he just looked at her with that gaze that controlled everything.
"Scared?" He chuckled. "It's not too late to leave now."
"Or..." His gaze became extremely aggressive, "Pluck up the courage, come in with me, and personally uncover the 'answer' you seek."
He tossed the choice back to her, seemingly generously.
Mine Fujiko's nails dug deep into her palms.
Immense fear made her want to turn and run immediately, to get away from this demon.
But the curiosity and unwillingness deep inside her, stimulated to the extreme—and even a trace of morbid desire for investigation attracted by this extreme danger—entwined around her like vines, making her unable to move.
(What... what exactly will he do?)
(Does he really dare...)
(That "charm" that made Mom sink... what exactly is it?)
The hotel's neon lights cast shifting colors on her face, reflecting the intense struggle of the war within her heart.
Kanjuro, like a patient hunter, quietly waited for the prey's own decision.
He knew that whether she stayed or left, this rebellious "girl" who shared his blood was already sinking deeper and deeper into his web.
The night was deep, and the demon in the hotel room continued to tear through this beautiful long night.
...When the first ray of morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, it made everything feel so warm.
As the warmth quietly fell upon the quilt, Mine Fujiko slowly opened her eyes.
Before dawn arrived, how could I dare to sleep soundly? Mine Fujiko hadn't slept well all night.
She turned her head and looked at the sleeping Kanjuro beside her. The morning light gilded his peaceful sleeping face with a soft outline. His long eyelashes were lowered, hiding the sharpness and depth of his usual self, showing a rare sense of peace. But Mine Fujiko knew this was only a temporary illusion.
Yesterday was but a dream in life; dreams always have to end in awakening.
It wasn't sadness, but a kind of realization, a sense of relief, even a strange sort of enlightenment.
She finally understood.
She understood why Yukiko was so persistent, so resolute, and even willing to give up everything to keep this man.
She understood why so many women, knowing there was an abyss ahead, were willing to sink into his shadow.
Kanjuro was such an extreme and contradictory existence.
His style of doing things was pure, undisguised, overbearingly trampling on all rules, and crushing human reason and conventional thinking underfoot.
Yet, he possessed a divine, perfect physical form and a demonic ability to bewitch the human heart.
These extreme traits intertwined to form a destructive attraction, enough to make anyone he chose experience a nearly twisted sense of belonging in that endless darkness while their reason collapsed.
She understood the "inability to escape" that Yukiko spoke of.
It wasn't because of weakness, but because once one has experienced the hardships of life, ordinary emotions and relationships seem dull.
Just then, Kanjuro also woke up.
He opened his eyes, and those pupils instantly regained their clarity and depth, without a trace of emotional fluctuation.
He ignored the tear stains at the corners of Mine Fujiko's eyes and her complex gaze, standing up straight and walking to the window, pulling open the heavy curtains with a "clatter."
Blinding sunlight flooded in instantly, illuminating everything in the room and his handsome, powerful back. Looking at the city gradually waking up outside the window, his voice was calm and cold:
"Human nature is just like this." A mocking sneer of insight curled at the corner of his mouth, "When appearance and personal charm can both reach the extreme..."
He paused, turned back, and his gaze swept over Mine Fujiko, who was staring blankly at him from the bed. There was no warmth in that look, only a high-and-mighty scrutiny and a cruel understanding.
"So-called love is actually already dead."
"What remains is nothing more than infatuation driven by instinct, and the... inseparable dependence and madness produced after self-needs are infinitely satisfied."
His words were like a cold scalpel, precisely dissecting the core wrapped in the cloak of emotion.
He knew exactly where his advantages lay and didn't mind using them to manipulate people's hearts in the palm of his hand.
Mine Fujiko listened to his words and looked at his figure in the morning light, her heart full of mixed feelings.
She knew the truth and had experienced that terrifying yet fascinating "charm," but she also clearly saw the cold essence beneath it.
Tears fell again; this time, the composition was even more complex.
There was confusion about her own state, understanding of Kanjuro's women, and perhaps a hint of unspeakable, inescapable identification with the powerful existence before her.
Kanjuro stopped looking at her and turned toward the bathroom.
To him, this was just another successful "persuasion" process. Another unique "existence"; everyone surely has their own value and meaning...
While the world outside remained bustling with traffic and bathed in sunlight, as if nothing had changed. On the streets in the early morning, the flow of cars gradually thickened.
Kanjuro hailed a taxi. Mine Fujiko followed him silently, her movements carrying a subtle discomfort after experiencing intense emotional fluctuations, as well as a deeper mental trance. She sat in the car and subconsciously huddled close to Kanjuro, leaning her head gently on his shoulder like a young cub seeking peace of mind.
Kanjuro didn't push her away or respond; he simply let her lean on him, his gaze flatly watching the street scenery receding rapidly outside the window.
He could feel the slight trembling from the girl's body beside him and that abnormal attachment.
He knew that the barrier named "reason" had been completely shattered by him after last night.
Kanjuro's cold analysis from the morning echoed repeatedly in Mine Fujiko's mind, mixed with the experiences from last night that overturned her perceptions. The beautiful imagination she once firmly believed in regarding emotions and human nature was vulnerable in the face of reality.
(Human nature... is it really this simple and direct sometimes?)
(Using the most extreme appearance and the most extreme physiological control to easily pry open the soul's defenses...)
(Those ideals of pursuing spiritual resonance seem so ridiculous in the face of absolute biological instinct...)
(Some people go crazy; maybe it's not that they want to, but this world, or rather, someone like him, represents a kind of irresistible madness in himself, right?)
(The final end for idealists might be like what I am now, completely recognizing this cold yet seductive... reality.)
Her thinking had already been led astray by Kanjuro's twisted logic. Under the massive impact and the subsequent physiological dependence, she began to seek "rational" explanations for her current downfall, even seeing it as a kind of "growth" and "awakening." In a sense, she had already "broken."
The taxi stopped near the school. Kanjuro got out first, and Mine Fujiko followed, trailing closely behind, her eyes glued to him.
Kanjuro took a cigarette case from his pocket, pulled out a slender cigarette, and placed it between his lips, lighting it with a "snap." Blue-gray smoke curled up in the morning mist, blurring his handsome yet cold profile.
"Go on." He exhaled a smoke ring, his voice without any ripples, not even looking at her.
Mine Fujiko looked at him reluctantly, her feet seemingly nailed to the spot. She yearned for him to say something more, even if it was just a reassuring look. But he didn't; he just stood there quietly smoking, as if sending her to school was just an insignificant task, and the task was finished.
Finally, she had to turn around and walk toward the school gate step by step. Every few steps, she couldn't help but look back.
Once, twice... Every time she looked back, she saw Kanjuro still standing in the same place, a cigarette between his long fingers, surrounded by smoke. That figure looked both charming and incredibly distant in the dawn. His gaze seemed to be looking into the distance, yet also nowhere in particular, completely immersed in his own world, not caring in the slightest about her attachment-filled and reluctant glances.
In her eyes, which were usually agile and cunning, there was now a near-humble obsession and attachment that was extremely inconsistent with her age and personality. Even though she knew he was just using her, just controlling her, even though she knew he was cold and heartless, her heart and her body had already fallen uncontrollably into that dark and seductive abyss he had constructed.
Not until Mine Fujiko's figure completely disappeared into the crowd of students did Kanjuro indifferently stub out the cigarette butt and flick it into a nearby trash can.
He turned and walked in the opposite direction of the school without any lingering attachment, his back resolute.
To him, this was just another successful "domestication." A "collectible" flowing with his bloodline and full of rebellion had been preliminarily branded as his. As for the pain, confusion, or twisted attachment brought by that brand, none of it was within his consideration.
Sunlight filled the streets, and a new day began, but some things, once sprouted in the darkness, could never return to the starting point.
Everything seemed to have ended, yet nothing seemed to have ended, but such a result didn't seem unacceptable. Kanjuro walked on the road leading to the school.
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