Inside the inn room, after a period of chaotic and painful "discussion," the four finally decided to report the incident to the nearby Police Station. Naturally, the content of the report had been meticulously altered and omitted.
Kanjuro's face still bore the appropriate paleness and lingering fear, playing the role of a young man deeply remorseful for failing to protect his female companions due to negligence. Ran, Sonoko, and Kazuha followed behind, their eyes evasive, their faces flushed with shame. Their tightly clasped hands betrayed their inner anxiety and tension. Sonoko tried hard to maintain the indignation of a "victim," while Ran and Kazuha were mostly enveloped by an unspeakable, chaotic emotion.
The group arrived at the Police Station. They were received by a serious-looking middle-aged police officer.
Kanjuro, taking the lead, stepped forward and recounted the "events" with a hint of exhaustion and anger: "Officer, we checked into the XX Hotel near Kiyomizu Temple last night. But when we woke up this morning, all four of us felt extremely unwell—dizzy, weak, and in terrible spirits. We strongly suspect that something was put into the hotel's dinner, some kind of unknown drug."
He deliberately blurred the specific manifestations of their "discomfort," shifting the focus to the fact that they had been "drugged."
When the officer inquired about the details, especially regarding the accusation against the Abbot, Sonoko immediately cut in excitedly, her voice conveying deliberately amplified grievance and anger: "It must be him! That Abbot of Kiyomizu Temple! When we visited yesterday, we thought the way he looked at us was strange and sneaky! And who else besides someone with internal authority could manage to drug the hotel food?"
Ran and Kazuha stood nearby, heads lowered, tacitly agreeing with Sonoko's account. They couldn't reveal the truth, so they could only let this guided "fact" become the sole explanation.
The police officer recorded their statements, his brow furrowed. Since the Abbot of a famous temple was involved, this was no small matter. He immediately dispatched officers to Kiyomizu Temple to summon the Abbot for questioning.
Just as the police headed to Kiyomizu Temple, Kanjuro stood by a window in the Police Station corridor, his gaze seemingly casually directed toward the temple. He quietly released that intangible, immaterial spiritual power once more. This power crossed space, precisely targeting the Abbot, who was sitting in silent meditation in his Zen Room, completely unaware.
The powerful dark will, like the most minute virus, instantly invaded and overlaid the Abbot's original clear consciousness. The old Abbot's body trembled slightly, his eyes instantly becoming hollow and vacant, before returning to normal. Yet, deep within his eyes, a "confession" program, forcibly implanted, began to operate silently.
When the police found the Abbot, he did not resist; he simply followed them silently to the Police Station.
In the Interrogation Room, facing the officer's questions, the Abbot—under Kanjuro's remote, invisible control—was expressionless, even unnervingly calm, as he confessed to all the false accusations.
"Yes," the Abbot's voice was flat, as if stating something irrelevant to him, "I instructed someone to drug their dinner."
The officer asked in shock, "Why would you do that? What drug did you use?"
The Abbot's eyes were hollow. Following the "script" Kanjuro had instilled, he replied: "A kind of... drug that makes people confused and unwell. I... I saw those young female benefactresses... and harbored wicked thoughts... intending to use it to..." His words were fragmented, but they perfectly confirmed Sonoko's earlier conjecture—a hypocrite who appeared virtuous but harbored ill intentions.
As for the specific type and details of the drug, the Abbot, under Kanjuro's control, vaguely described it as an "ancient formula," and nothing more could be extracted. But this was sufficient.
The Abbot's "confession" came so easily and completely that it made the investigating officers feel a slight sense of unease. However, the "culprit" had admitted guilt, and the chain of evidence (though mainly based on confession) seemed to form a closed loop. Thus, the case was temporarily concluded with the Abbot's formal arrest.
Stepping out of the Police Station, the sunlight was dazzling.
Ran, Sonoko, and Kazuha watched the Abbot being escorted into the Police Car, their emotions extremely complex. On one hand, the "true culprit" seemed to have been brought to justice, offering them an explanation and an outlet for their feelings; on the other hand, deep down they knew that what happened last night was far more than simple "physical discomfort." That true secret was now walking beside them, and they had, invisibly, become accomplices in concealing it.
Kanjuro turned around at the opportune moment, his face showing the relief of having survived a disaster, along with a deeper "guilt" reserved only for them. He bowed deeply, his voice hoarse: "I'm sorry... Although we found the person who drugged you, ultimately, it was my suggestion to stay there that led you to experience such a terrible thing... I can never forgive myself."
His posture was so humble, taking all the blame upon himself, that it prevented the girls from voicing any further reproach.
Sonoko immediately declared, "This isn't Ye Xiao Gege's fault! It's all that wicked Abbot!"
Ran also gently comforted him: "That's right, Mr. Kanjuro, you are a victim too."
Kazuha looked at Kanjuro's "pained" expression, thinking of his tenderness when catching goldfish earlier and his current "self-reproach." Her heart melted completely. The lingering fear and confusion from that night seemed to be overwritten by a sense of pity and strange dependence on Kanjuro. "Ye Xiao Gege, please don't be too sad... We... we are all fine..."
Kanjuro raised his head, looking at the three girls before him, each with different thoughts. Their eyes held fear, confusion, and lingering shame, but even more, a subtle dependence—guided by circumstance—on the "only insider" and "protector" (even though this protector was the perpetrator himself).
He knew that the legal obstacle had been removed, at the cost of a miscarriage of justice. Meanwhile, psychological shackles had wrapped themselves more deeply around them. The morning bell of Kiyomizu Temple still echoed, but between the four of them now, a twisted yet firm bond, sharing a dark secret, had quietly formed.
(The next step of the plan can proceed smoothly.)
(On the train back to Tokyo, it's time to take this twisted 'bond' a step further.)
A flicker of dark light, unnoticed by anyone, passed through Kanjuro's eyes. "I... I should go home," Kazuha said softly, her tone carrying a subtle sense of confusion and avoidance. The Kiyomizu Temple experience felt like a nightmare she couldn't wake from, making her feel tormented when facing Heiji Hattori. Yet, the twisted dependence she felt deep down for Kanjuro prevented her from truly hating him.
"Are you heading back?" Kanjuro's voice remained gentle, carrying just the right amount of concern. "Speaking of which, I've never visited Kazuha's home. If it's not too much trouble, could we stop by? It would serve as a lighter conclusion to this rather unsuccessful trip."
Ran also nodded immediately: "Yes, Kazuha, let's go relax. Being together will help everyone feel better." She hoped to ease the worry clouding Kazuha's brow.
Sonoko naturally had no objection, merely humming softly. Her gaze swept over Kanjuro's face, carrying an emotion that was knowing yet helpless.
Kazuha looked at Kanjuro, her eyes filled with curiosity and complex emotions. She found herself unable to refuse the suggestion and finally nodded: "O-okay, you are welcome to visit my home."
The four arrived at Kazuha's home in Osaka. It was a typical Japanese-style Residence, quiet and elegant. Just as Kazuha had mentioned, her father, Officer Ginshiro Toyama, was busy with work and not home. The person who opened the door was Kazuha's mother—a gentle woman dressed in a simple, elegant kimono.
However, the moment she saw Kanjuro, the smile on her face abruptly froze. A hint of unconcealed shock flashed in her eyes, her heart inexplicably trembled, and the fingers gripping the door frame tightened slightly. That youthful face carried an aura that made her feel extremely uneasy, even fearful.
Sonoko took everything in. She inwardly scoffed and gave Kanjuro a disgruntled glare. (Sure enough, this man is radiating his dangerous "charm" again, even Kazuha's mother...)
Kanjuro, however, seemed completely oblivious, wearing an impeccable, gentle smile as he politely greeted Kazuha's mother.
Everyone was welcomed inside. Mrs. Toyama tried hard to maintain her composure, warmly hosting them. During dinner, she did her best to play the gracious hostess, but her gaze kept involuntarily sweeping over Kanjuro with a hint of terror.
Halfway through the meal, Kanjuro elegantly set down his Chopsticks and apologized: "Excuse me, I might be feeling a little unwell. I'd like to step out for some fresh air. Please excuse me."
Kazuha looked at him with concern. Kanjuro smiled, shook his head, and left the Dining Room.
He did not head toward the Courtyard. Instead, as if already knowing the layout of the house and the current state of someone's mind, he silently went up to the second floor. Outside a slightly ajar door, he heard faint, heavily suppressed sobbing.
Kanjuro pushed the door open and entered.
Inside the room, Mrs. Toyama was sitting on the Tatami Mat with her back to the door, her shoulders slightly shaking. Hearing the movement, she spun around abruptly, tears still on her face, her eyes filled with panic and wariness: "Who... who are you? How did you get in? Please leave!"
Kanjuro ignored her demand to leave and gently closed the door behind him. He walked closer step by step, looking down at her. The mask of gentleness on his face had vanished, replaced by a deep, judgmental indifference.
"Madam, what are you afraid of?" His voice was low, devoid of his previous politeness, but carried a penetrating force that pierced straight to the soul, as if it could easily uncover her long-buried scars and secrets. "Is it because seeing me reminded you of someone you shouldn't remember, or... did you anticipate something that shouldn't happen?"
Toyama Ayame's face turned ashen white, and her body involuntarily shrank backward, almost embedding itself into the wall: "I don't know what you're talking about! Please leave immediately!" Her voice trembled with fear, but deep within, there seemed to be a hint of long-dormant emotion that had been forcibly awakened.
The corner of Kanjuro's mouth curved into a cold, yet all-knowing, arc. He slowly crouched down to meet her gaze. His deep eyes seemed capable of swallowing all light, reflecting her current helplessness and panic. "No, you understand. Your eyes betray you. From the moment you first saw me, your soul trembled—not from mere fear, but because of... memories, right?"
His fingertip lifted gently, almost touching her pale cheek. Toyama Ayame wanted to pull away, but her body felt bound by invisible chains. She could only watch helplessly as that slender finger drew near, carrying a fatal aura that was both familiar and strange.
Scenes from eighteen years ago, like a burst dam, violently washed away the embankment of her rationality.
The Occult Research Society, that deep, secluded Basement.
Countless flickering Candlelight illuminated layer upon layer of human figures.
And at the center was that young man—Kanjuro. He looked exactly the same then, barely changed at all! Handsome, pale, with eyes as deep as an ancient well, carrying an inhuman calmness and predatory nature... He was like a tireless monarch, or a Priest conducting some dark ritual, throughout that chaotic and long night.
She, Toyama Ayame, was one of them at the time.
She forgot how she had been drawn there.
After that night, she fled in panic, trying to completely bury that unbearable memory.
She soon met Ginshiro Toyama, married him, and lived a peaceful life. Ginshiro Toyama was her Childhood Friend, who had always taken care of her and respected her choices. He never overstepped, marrying her only in name as friends; they hadn't even touched hands.
However, Kazuha's time of birth... left a shadow of doubt deep in her heart that she never dared to touch.
Kazuha, her daughter, was very likely... the product of that chaotic night!
For all these years, she had desperately avoided it, numbing herself with the daily routine of being a wife and mother.
She thought she had succeeded, until today, when this face, identical to the one eighteen years ago, appeared before her once again.
The fear was real, but at this moment, under Kanjuro's intense gaze, at the instant his cold fingertips nearly touched her, another twisted emotion, suppressed for eighteen years, also quietly revived—
"Your daughter, Kazuha," Kanjuro's voice was like a demon's whisper, pulling her back from the vortex of memories to the cruel reality. "She's very cute and very innocent. Her features... actually bear a resemblance to how you looked back then." His words were like a venomous snake, coiling around her heart.
"You are not allowed to touch my daughter!" Toyama Ayame cried out, her eyes hiding a trace of imperceptible jealousy that even she found startling.
Kanjuro laughed softly, his smile cold and cruel, as if he had seen through all her complex thoughts. "That depends on you, Ayame." He called her by name with an unquestionable familiarity and dominance. "Keep silent, act as if you know nothing. You will remain the gentle Madam Toyama, and Kazuha will remain that 'happy' girl, living under the protection of her 'real' father."
He deliberately emphasized the word "real," like a sharp thorn.
"Otherwise..." He didn't finish his sentence, but that invisible, cold pressure, mixed with the shivering attraction left over from that night eighteen years ago, had already caused Toyama Ayame to completely break down.
She slumped down weakly, tears gushing out. It was no longer just simple fear, but filled with shame for the past, helplessness toward reality, and that damned, indelible throbbing.
She looked at the "young man" before her whose face hadn't changed, knowing that her and her daughter's fates were being pulled back into that dark vortex once more. She lost the strength to resist, and even... in the depths of her soul, a corner of her shamefully looked forward to that destructive darkness consuming her again.
Kanjuro stood up, looking down at the weeping woman coldly. There was no pity in his eyes, only the icy satisfaction of a successful plan.
(The seed has been sown. Fear and twisted attachment are the best shackles.)
(The Toyama family will become a new chessboard.)
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