Ooka Momiji looked at the expanding bloodstain on "Disguise's" arm and then at the man who was acting like a demon, pressing closer step by step. A massive fear and a burning emotion she had never felt before clashed violently in her heart. This can't go on! Sister Disguise will get hurt, she might even die! It's all because she's protecting me!
The man once again forced "Disguise" back half a step, his hideous gaze instantly sweeping over Ooka Momiji as if he had found a breakthrough. He actually made a feint, turned the iron pipe, and lunged it fiercely toward her! This move was fast and ruthless; Ooka Momiji could even smell the rust and the scent of death!
At this critical moment, "Disguise" suddenly lunged forward, once again using her body to shield Ooka Momiji! The tip of the iron pipe grazed her side, adding another wound.
But at the same time, "Disguise" also seized this fleeting opportunity! Her (His) right hand was like a venomous snake striking, accurately grabbing the man's wrist, which was exposed due to the full-force lunge, and twisting it hard!
"Crack!" The sound of a bone dislocation was clearly audible.
The man let out a miserable scream as the iron pipe flew from his hand. However, his ferocity remained unabated. He used his other hand and his body weight to slam violently into "Disguise," knocking her (him) and Ooka Momiji down behind her. The three of them rolled into a heap.
In the chaos, Ooka Momiji felt the cold, rough ground scraping against her skin and heard the man's frantic roars and "Disguise's" suppressed groans. She saw the man using his uninjured hand to tightly strangle "Disguise's" neck. "Disguise" was struggling hard, but the injury and the disadvantageous position made it difficult for her (him) to break free for a moment.
Kill him!
A cold and clear voice exploded deep in her mind. It wasn't an external voice, but an instinctive cry born from her own fear, her worry for "Sister Disguise," and the despair and survival instinct accumulated over these past few days.
Her gaze fell on the section of rusted iron pipe lying not far from her hand. The tip was still stained with "Disguise's" blood.
Pick it up!
Body moving faster than thought, Ooka Momiji lunged out and grabbed the cold, rough iron pipe. It was heavy, smelling of blood and rust.
Stab him! To survive! For Sister Disguise!
She saw the man's hideous profile and "Disguise's" agonizing expression as she gradually suffocated... "Ah——!!!" Ooka Momiji let out a scream that didn't sound human. Using all her strength, she closed her eyes and stabbed the iron pipe fiercely toward the man!
Puchi!
The dull sound of a sharp weapon entering flesh was accompanied by the man's abrupt stop in roaring and the violent twitching of his body.
Warm liquid splashed onto Ooka Momiji's face, and the thick smell of blood instantly filled her nostrils.
She opened her eyes tremblingly and saw the tip of the iron pipe deeply embedded in the junction of the man's shoulder and neck, with blood gushing out. The man's eyes widened as he looked at her in disbelief, making a gurgling sound in his throat. Then his strength rapidly drained away, the hand strangling "Disguise" loosened, and his massive body slumped to the side, twitching a few times before becoming completely still.
Ooka Momiji let go of the pipe blankly, looking at her blood-stained hands and then at the corpse that was quickly losing its warmth. Her mind was a complete blank. She had killed someone... She really... killed someone... "Well done."
A calm voice sounded in her ear.
Ooka Momiji turned her head blankly and saw that "Disguise" had already sat up. Although there were clear finger marks on her neck, her arm and side were still bleeding, and her face was pale from suffocation, her eyes were exceptionally bright, even carrying a hint of... approval?
"Sister... Disguise... I... I killed him..." Ooka Momiji's voice trembled violently, and tears poured out uncontrollably, mixing with the blood on her face.
"Disguise" did not comfort her. Instead, she used her uninjured right hand to firmly grasp Momiji's cold, trembling hand, forcing her to look at her. That gaze was sharp and profound, as if looking directly into the depths of her soul.
"Momiji, look at me." "Disguise's" voice wasn't loud, but it carried an unquestionable power. "Here, hesitation means death. Compassion is cruelty toward yourself and those you care about."
Her (his) gaze swept over the corpse on the ground and returned to Ooka Momiji's tearful face.
"You were hesitating just now, so I got hurt. But in the end, you made up your mind." She (he) paused and said word by word, "Remember this feeling. Remember the feeling of having to harden your heart to survive and protect the people who are important to you. This is how the world works, most of the time."
Ooka Momiji stared blankly at "Disguise," looking at the almost cold clarity in her (his) eyes and the hint of unreadable, complex emotion hidden deep within. Fear, guilt, confusion... and a strange sense of being recognized mixed together, impacting her crumbling worldview.
"I... I just didn't want you to die..." she choked out.
"Then remember it." "Disguise" let go of her hand and began to simply and efficiently treat the wounds on her arm and side using relatively clean cloth strips found on the dead man. Her movements were alarmingly skilled. "Survive, protect yourself, and when necessary, remove obstacles. That is the only thing you need to remember here."
Ooka Momiji looked at "Disguise's" profile as she calmly bandaged her wounds, then looked at her own blood-stained hands. The pure white world in her heart seemed to be completely tainted by this cold reality and bloody rust, and she could never go back. But at the same time, a twisted "sense of power" and a closer "sense of bonding" with "Sister Disguise" were also quietly growing.
She had killed someone. For "Sister Disguise."
And "Sister Disguise" told her that this was right and necessary for survival.
The chill in the Basement seemed to have grown even heavier, but Ooka Momiji felt a part of her heart also become cold and hard. She silently moved to "Disguise's" side, leaning against her (him), drawing from that blood-stained warmth and guidance. The remaining survivors might be few, and the final moment was approaching. In Ooka Momiji's heart, "Disguise" was no longer just the best sister, but the only faith and law leading her through this dark ice field toward an unknown end. The cold was like countless tiny poisonous needles, piercing her skin and penetrating her bones. The chill in the Basement had exceeded the limits of human endurance, and every breath brought the stinging pain of frozen lungs. Ooka Momiji's consciousness began to blur in the low temperature, her body trembled uncontrollably, and her teeth chattered. She felt her body temperature being rapidly drained by the endless darkness and cold, and her vision began to shake and darken.
"Don't sleep... Momiji, wake up!" "Disguise's" voice seemed to come from far away, carrying a rare urgency. Her (his) situation was no better; blood loss and low temperature made her face as pale as paper and her lips purple, but the sharpness and clarity in her eyes still held on.
Ooka Momiji felt herself being shaken violently, then pulled by a force into an equally cold but slightly trembling embrace. It was "Sister Disguise" holding her tightly.
"Stay close to me... share body heat... this is the only way... to slow down hypothermia right now..." "Disguise's" voice was intermittent, and the white mist she exhaled puffed onto Ooka Momiji's cold forehead.
The instinct for survival overrode shyness and all other thoughts. Ooka Momiji used her last bit of strength to curl up and burrow deep into that embrace, her arms subconsciously wrapping around the other's waist. The two cold bodies pressed tightly together, trying to squeeze the last bit of pitiful heat from each other. Through the thin clothing, she could clearly feel the other's body contours and the same violent trembling.
Under the initial dominance of chaos and survival instinct, Ooka Momiji didn't notice much abnormality. But as time passed, in the extreme cold and the tight embrace, some ignored details began to struggle through her numb senses to her gradually blurring consciousness.
This embrace... although equally cold, the width and hardness of the frame seemed... firmer than what a woman should have in her impression. The arms wrapping around her back, the lines felt when tensed, were not a woman's softness, but a powerful, masculine solidness. And... where their chests pressed together, that flat and hard touch... an absurd yet heart-stopping thought pierced her mind like an icicle.
No... impossible... She raised her head with great difficulty and extreme slowness, her vision blurred by the cold and tears (perhaps). She looked at the face so close at hand—the capable and pale face belonging to "Disguise." At this moment, this face looked exceptionally fragile due to blood loss and low temperature, but the contours of the brows, the lines of the tightly closed lips, and the curve of the chin... if she set aside the soft feminine touches, if she imagined the hair shorter and more capable, and removed those deliberate facial expressions... this face actually faintly overlapped with another handsome and evil face in her memory!
Her trembling, cold fingers unconsciously and gently touched the area below "Disguise's" neck, near the collarbone. There, in the close proximity and dim light, she seemed to see a very tiny texture edge that was slightly different from the surrounding skin tone... like... like some kind of highly sophisticated Disguise attachment point?!
It was as if a bolt of lightning had split open the chaotic darkness!
Ooka Momiji's eyes suddenly widened. Her remaining body heat faded instantly, replaced by a coldness more piercing than the Basement's chill, spreading from her heart to her limbs! All her trembling stopped, and she just stared fixedly at this familiar yet strange face.
"You... you..." Her voice was as dry as sandpaper, filled with extreme shock and disbelief.
The body of "Disguise," whom she was holding tightly, also stiffened imperceptibly for a moment. Deep within those eyes that were always sharp or calm, something seemed to waver slightly. He (she) didn't immediately push Ooka Momiji away, nor did he explain. He just quietly looked back at her with a complex and difficult-to-read gaze, containing expected calmness and perhaps a very tiny, hard-to-detect... sigh.
Time seemed to freeze at this moment. The cold of the Basement, the danger in the distance, the countdown for survival... everything seemed to have moved far away from them. All that remained was Ooka Momiji's increasingly clear realization and the person before her's tacit silence.
"...Ye... Xiao...?" Ooka Momiji finally squeezed out those two syllables from the depths of her throat that made her soul tremble. It wasn't a question, but a confirmation on the edge of collapse.
"Disguise"—or rather, Kanjuro wearing this face—finally, slowly, and very slightly let out a sigh. That sigh was as light as a snowflake falling, but it completely shattered the last bit of hope in Ooka Momiji's heart.
He (it might be time to use this pronoun now) no longer maintained "Disguise's" voice but restored his own deep, magnetic voice, which sounded as cold as an abyss at this moment:
"It seems I couldn't keep it hidden until the end of the game."
These words, like a final judgment, pronounced the death sentence for all the warmth, protection, reliance, and the "sisterly" illusion.
Ooka Momiji snapped back as if she had been burned, until her spine hit the cold wine barrel hard. She curled up, hugging herself tightly, as if this could resist the psychological shock that was thousands of times more terrifying than the physical cold. In her widened eyes, tears surged out without warning—not a sob, but a silent, dam-breaking collapse.
"Why... why..." she murmured, every word carrying blood-and-tear-like pain and brokenness, "Why is it you... Sister Disguise... I... my favorite Sister Disguise... how could it be... you..."
...Scenes from the past few days flashed through her mind: the food and water handed over in the Library, the figure standing in front of her in moments of crisis, the trench coat draped over her in the cold, the fingers gently wiping away her tears, and that phrase "just like my own sister"... all the warmth, all the trust, all the emotional support... at this moment, it all twisted and spoiled, turning into the sharpest poisonous thorns, repeatedly piercing her heart!
She had actually placed her most trusted, most relied upon, and even sacrificial feelings on a demon! A demon who had murdered her childhood friend (Heiji Hattori), who was cold and cruel, and who saw her as a pawn and a plaything! And she had been like a fool, moved by his (under the Disguise) "tenderness," grateful to tears for his (under the Disguise) "protection," and even... killed someone with her own hands for "her"!
"I just wanted to see what secrets were hidden in this mansion and, by the way... kill some boring time." Kanjuro's voice sounded again. He was no longer pretending and slowly sat up straight. Although he was still pale and injured, the lazy and dangerous aura belonging to Kanjuro himself had returned. He looked down at the crudely bandaged wound on his arm, his tone as flat as if he were discussing the weather. "Disguising as Disguise was the most convenient choice to blend in with this group of detectives without being too conspicuous."
He looked up at Ooka Momiji, who was huddled opposite him, collapsing and trembling. His eyes no longer had "Disguise's" sharpness or occasional gentleness, leaving only Kanjuro's characteristic deep and cold scrutiny, and perhaps a very faint, almost pitying amusement.
"I just didn't expect," he continued, the corners of his mouth seemingly curving into an imperceptible arc, "to meet such an... interesting'sister' like you. Your reactions, your dependence, and the way you made up your mind for'Sister Disguise'... truly added a lot of color to this game."
Every word was like salt being rubbed into Ooka Momiji's bleeding wounds. Interesting? Adding color? Everything she cherished as a treasure and held as her faith was, in his eyes, nothing more than an "interesting" embellishment in a game?!
"Ahhh——!!!" Ooka Momiji finally let out a broken and desperate scream. She covered her ears tightly, as if this could shut out that cruel voice. Tears mixed with the blood from the previous battle, crisscrossing her face.
Faith collapsed, the world overturned. At this moment, the extreme cold could no longer be felt, for her entire soul had been thoroughly frozen and shattered by a deeper chill called 'betrayal' and 'absurdity'.
Kanjuro watched her break down quietly, offering no comfort nor further pressure. He simply leaned back against the cold wall and closed his eyes as if resting, yet also as if waiting. Waiting for Ooka Momiji to either sink completely into this devastating blow or... give birth to something else, perhaps something more useful.
The chill in the basement still raged, but the air between the two was more stagnant and desperate than the cold. A warm drama based on lies had completely concluded, revealing the cruel and cold reality of the chessboard beneath. And Ooka Momiji, the pawn who had just been forced to stain her hands with blood and instantly lost all emotional support, stood on the brink of a total collapse. Her tears flowed for the deceased'Sister Disguise' and for her own ridiculous and pitiful feelings that had been played with in the palm of his hand.
The game was not over yet. But for her, certain parts of her had died forever.
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