In the dim prison cell, only a few rays of light seeped through the high transom window. Chie Kuroba was bound to the cold stone wall by special energy chains. Her tight-fitting outfit, which usually highlighted her athletic figure, now only made her look like a beautiful moth struggling futilely in a spiderweb. Her head hung low, her dark purple hair obscuring part of her face. Only her slightly rising and falling chest proved she was still breathing, still resisting the persistent cold and chaos forcibly implanted in her mind.
Kanjuro appeared silently in the cell, like a dark monarch inspecting his domain.
He paced over to Chie Kuroba, his gaze lingering for a moment on her bound but still attractive curves. Then he reached out, his fingertips carrying a hint of playfulness as they gently brushed across her cheek, which was stained with dust and sweat.
"How do you feel now, Mrs. Kuroba?" His voice was exceptionally clear in the silent cell, carrying a condescending inquisitiveness. "Is your hatred still so blazing? Or... have you begun to feel the call of the Abyss?"
Chie Kuroba's body stiffened imperceptibly. She slowly raised her head, revealing her eyes. The fire of revenge that once burned there seemed to have been forcibly suppressed, replaced by a nearly deathly indifference. But in the deepest part of that indifference, a sharp cold light still flickered, like a blade under ice. She looked at Kanjuro expressionlessly, her lips moving slightly to spit out clear, cold words:
"Demon."
No roaring, no struggling, only the purest definition that went straight to the bone.
Kanjuro seemed quite pleased with the title. He gave a low laugh, and the hand brushing her cheek did not leave. Instead, it moved slowly upward, finally resting his palm gently on Chie Kuroba's forehead.
"Demon? Perhaps '473'." Deep in his eyes, a dark, abyss-like purple-black light began to glow. "But demons often understand the truth better than the world. Let me see... what exactly is supporting this hatred of yours."
dark bible: Memory Traceback
A dark power, far more subtle and overbearing than the previous "Mind Weaving," like the finest and most pervasive tentacles, gently yet irresistibly probed into the depths of Kuroba Chie's spirit, beginning to trace back and flip through her strictly guarded book of memories.
Kanjuro originally had a playful and controlling mindset, prepared to enjoy the fragments of pain, fear, and weakness in this stubborn woman's life and find pleasure in them. However, as the memory images flowed, the usual, effortless light smile on his face froze for the first time, then turned into a hint of genuine surprise.
Fragments of memory surged like a tide, some blurry, some clear, all pointing to the same sealed point in time and space—
Eighteen years ago.
Sacred Scripture Academy. Old School Building basement. That Dark Ritual that changed everything.
Amidst the churning dark energy and chaotic figures, he saw a young Kuroba Chie. Back then, her eyes lacked some of their current cold sharpness, possessing more of a young girl's agility and unrestrained nature, but deep within her gaze was a resilience beyond ordinary people.
She wasn't entirely passive; she seemed to have entered that forbidden land with a certain purpose or curiosity, and then... was swept into that irresistible chaotic torrent dominated by him.
The memory images were brief and blurred, filled with dark energy fluctuations, distorted perceptions, and the inevitable forced connection on both physical and spiritual levels. Yes, among the more than one hundred female figures associated with him, he clearly "saw" Kuroba Chie.
"You..." Kanjuro's palm resting on her forehead paused slightly, the dark light in his eyes flickering uncertainly as he murmured, "...are one of them too?"
This unexpected discovery led him to continue tracing the memory threads related to her more deeply. Immediately after, more connections surfaced.
He "saw" Kuroba Toichi.
Not as a rival or the legendary Magician, but as an earlier Kuroba Toichi in the role of an elder brother.
In the memory fragments, a young Kuroba Chie chased after a young Kuroba Toichi, their interaction carrying the unique intimacy and trust of blood relatives. He also "saw" Kuroba Chie's near-worshipful following of her brother, as well as Kuroba Toichi's protection and teaching of his sister.
More importantly, the truth about Kaito's origins became suddenly clear, like an inscription with the dust wiped away—
Kaito Kuroba was not his, Kanjuro's, son.
Kaito was the child of Kuroba Toichi and another woman (the image in the memory was blurred, but it was definitely not Kuroba Chie).
And Kuroba Chie was Kuroba Toichi's biological younger sister, Kaito's aunt.
The intricate web of bloodlines and relationships was crudely unveiled at this moment by the power of the dark bible.
Kanjuro slowly withdrew his hand, and the dark light covering Kuroba Chie's forehead gradually went out.
He stepped back half a pace, reassessing the bound woman before him with a new gaze mixed with surprise, amusement, and deeper interest.
"So that's how it is..." Kanjuro's voice carried the pleasure of discovering an unexpected treasure. "Kuroba Toichi's sister... the 'collection' I inadvertently took back then actually has such an identity."
He stepped closer, almost sharing her breath, forcing her to raise her cold eyes and meet his gaze again.
"Then, my dear 'Chie',"
He deliberately used a more intimate address, his tone carrying cold mockery. "What you're trying so hard to protect is not only your brother's son, but also... the last attachment and responsibility to the Kuroba family spawned by that shameful 'past' of yours?"
Kuroba Chie's pupils contracted violently upon hearing "Chie" and "past," a crack appearing in her cold mask, but it was immediately covered by a deeper chill. She neither admitted nor denied it, just stared fixedly at Kanjuro as if to carve him into the deepest part of her soul.
"Interesting, truly interesting." Kanjuro's smile became deep and dangerous. "Kuroba Toichi probably doesn't know yet that the son he treasures and entrusted to your care has an aunt who has such a... profound connection with his greatest enemy."
He reached out and gently pinched Kuroba Chie's chin, forcing her to tilt her head up.
"Tell me, if Toichi knew that the sister he had been searching for for years had not only fallen into my hands but had also once... would he be even more pained? More angry? More... desperate?"
Scheming and cruel light flashed in Kanjuro's eyes.
"And you, my Chie, you are now not just my captive, my collection, but also... the most perfect pawn that can be used at any time to tear apart Kuroba Toichi's soul."
The air in the cell seemed to freeze due to this cruel truth and the even more terrifying future. Under Kanjuro's control and the slow torture of his words, Kuroba Chie's body trembled slightly, but beneath that cold indifference in her eyes, something seemed to be collapsing, yet quietly condensing into something more resolute and darker in the ashes of despair.
Kanjuro let go, watching the complex struggle in her eyes with satisfaction.
"Rest well,'sister'. Our game, and your brother... will soon usher in an even more interesting chapter."
He turned and left, leaving Kuroba Chie alone in the dark cell, facing the completely exposed past, the misplaced bloodlines, and the even more desperate future held in the enemy's hands.
A new storm was already brewing on the ruins of truth.
The glimmer of the following day did not bring much warmth to the confined cell. Kuroba Chie was still bound to the stone wall, her posture unchanged from yesterday, but something had undergone a subtle and fatal fission deep within her heart.
A night of struggle and torment had not only failed to dispel the memories forcibly awakened yesterday, but had instead made the images stirred by the power of the dark bible even clearer, like nightmares engraved deep in her soul, replaying over and over.
Eighteen years ago in the Old School Building basement, that chaotic, painful, yet mixed with a certain primal, powerful, and trembling attraction... that figure at the center of the dark energy, like a demon god—Kanjuro.
She hated him, hated him for destroying her family, for turning Kaito into that state, and for the humiliation and imprisonment he was currently inflicting.
But that attraction originating from the Dark Ritual, as if engraved deep in her instincts, mixed with a complex awe for powerful strength and the forcibly awakened forbidden memory of the "connection," grew and entwined quietly on the ramparts of her hatred like the most stubborn vines.
When Kanjuro appeared in the cell again like a ghost, Kuroba Chie's body tensed imperceptibly for a moment. She raised her eyes, her gaze falling on him with complexity.
In those eyes, there was still cold hatred and unyielding spirit, but deep within, there was a surge of attraction, throb, and confusion that even she herself could not fully understand.
She watched him approach, watched his handsome and evil face, the sensation of his fingertips yesterday, the cruel truth revealed in his words, and the indelible aura in her more distant memories... intertwining into a suffocating force that hammered against her crumbling mental defenses.
How keen Kanjuro was. He immediately captured the light in her eyes that was different from yesterday's pure, cold loathing—it was struggle, the chaos after memories were ignited, the intertwining of hatred and a distorted attraction.. 0
He stopped in front of her and reached out his finger, once again gently stroking her cheek, this time with a more obvious sense of intimacy and inquiry.
"It seems," Kanjuro's voice was low, carrying a mockery that saw through everything, "after a night, some forgotten things... have fermented?"
Kuroba Chie bit her lower lip and looked away, trying to resist the tremors brought by his fingertips and the images churning in her mind.
But her breathing involuntarily became slightly rapid, and her bound body also showed a hint of imperceptible stiffness, which was not entirely the stiffness of resistance.
Kanjuro laughed softly, the sound exceptionally clear and dangerous in the silent cell.
"So... you can't forget me, Chie." He leaned down, approaching her ear, his warm breath fanning across her sensitive skin, his words like a demon's temptation, "You can't forget that 'past',"
"You can't forget... my breath, my power, and... that connection between us that is destined to never be erased."
"No..." Kuroba Chie squeezed out a syllable from between her teeth, carrying her final resistance, but her voice was so weak it lacked any conviction.
"Denial is futile." Kanjuro's palm slid down her cheek, stroking her neck, feeling her accelerating pulse. "Your body, your memories, even your gaze right now are betraying your so-called hatred." He raised his other hand, black energy flickering slightly. The energy chains binding Kuroba Chie made a slight hum; they didn't fully unlock but adjusted their posture, changing her from a completely confined state to a submissive position that was easier for him to approach yet still impossible to escape.
Kuroba Chie let out a suppressed cry, her struggle appearing weak. Her eyes were filled with confusion, shame, anger, and... a hint of shameful throb that even she herself hadn't expected.
The tide of past memories and the powerful presence of the man before her mixed into a fatal vortex, swallowing her reason.
Kanjuro said no more. He admired the pain of the internal battle in her eyes and the gradually unmaskable glimmer of being attracted to the source of darkness. To him, this was more interesting than simple conquest—destroying her will, twisting her emotions, letting her sink into hatred and morbid attraction, becoming a more perfect and contradictory pawn in his hands.
He lowered his head
Kuroba Chie's body trembled violently. Enveloped by that familiar yet terrifying dark aura, she gradually softened into a state of despair, a mixture of physiological reaction and mental surrender.
The chaotic memories in her mind overlapped with reality. Hatred and attraction tore at her, and finally, under Kanjuro's absolute power and skillful plundering, the dam of her sanity collapsed.
For the time that followed, a strange and suffocating atmosphere permeated the cold prison cell.
The faint glow of the energy chains illuminated the intertwined figures.
...After an unknown amount of time, everything returned to silence, with only scattered auras lingering in the air.
Kuroba Chie leaned weakly against the cold stone wall. The energy chains had reverted to their initial restraining posture, as if nothing had changed, yet everything was different.
Her clothes were disheveled, and she stared blankly at the dim ceiling above. Tears slid silently from the corners of her eyes, disappearing into her hairline.
Those tears no longer contained only hatred; they were mixed with bottomless self-loathing, the despair of a defiled soul, and... a twisted, dark sense of belonging to the demon who inflicted all this, a feeling so profound she couldn't face it herself, yet it had quietly taken root.
Kanjuro had already tidied his clothes and stood to the side, like a satiated predator admiring his latest 'masterpiece.' He reached out and wiped away the tear tracks from her eyes, his movements possessing a hint of cruel tenderness.
"See, you belong here, you belong to me," his voice was calm and certain. "Starting eighteen years ago, this was destined to be the only ending. Whether it's hatred or attraction, in the end... you will only be mine."
Kuroba Chie closed her eyes, refusing to look at him or speak, as if her soul had departed.
But Kanjuro knew that once something was awakened and branded, it could never return to the past.
Kuroba Chie, the legendary female thief, Kaito's aunt, Kuroba Toichi's sister, had now, through the dual fall of body and soul, become another, more precious, and more lethal 'collectible' in his dark kingdom.
And this twisted relationship was bound to add unpredictable variables and a cruel undertone to the impending confrontation with Kuroba Toichi.
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