Although the chill in the Annex corridor had receded, the lingering oppression and smell of blood grew even stronger. Light filtered through high, dust-covered stained-glass windows, casting eerie, mottled shadows on the dark-carpeted hallway. The air was no longer stagnant, but it felt filled with silent screams and final gasps.
Kanjuro walked ahead with unhurried steps, as if taking a leisurely stroll, yet his eyes, which had regained his true self's brilliance, sharply scanned every corner and every half-open door. Ooka Momiji followed half a step behind him, her nerves taut and her palms drenched in cold sweat. The relaxation brought by her body warming up had long been replaced by the even greater terror contained within this dead silence.
Just as they passed the entrance to a particularly eerie hall filled with various taxidermy beasts, a figure stumbled out from behind a massive brown bear specimen, blocking their path.
It was Saguru Hakuba.
But his current appearance made Ooka Momiji almost unable to recognize him. The suit jacket that was always neatly pressed was gone, and his white shirt was splattered with dark red, blackened blood, clinging to his body in wrinkles. His brownish-blonde short hair was messy, stained with dust and unknown filth, and there were several abrasions on his face. Most terrifying was his gaze—the eyes that always used to sparkle with rationality and curiosity were now bloodshot, his pupils slightly dilated from extreme excitement or fear, burning with a near-manic obsession and cold killing intent. A trace of un-wiped dark red blood remained at the corner of his mouth.
In his hand, he held a gun steadily, the muzzle pointing without hesitation at Kanjuro and Ooka Momiji, whose face instantly turned pale behind him. Although Kanjuro's appearance still retained the silhouette of "Disguise," Saguru Hakuba's gun hand trembled slightly; he had clearly sensed the drastic change in the aura of the person before him and Ooka Momiji's unusually dependent and close posture.
"Stop!" Saguru Hakuba's voice was hoarse and dry, like sandpaper rubbing together. "Don't come any closer!"
His gaze was locked onto Kanjuro, filled with extreme vigilance and hostility, not even bothering to carefully identify the true identity of the person beside Ooka Momiji. His survival instinct told him that this person was extremely dangerous.
"Saguru...?" Ooka Momiji spoke tremblingly, looking in disbelief at her childhood friend who appeared maddened and covered in blood. "You... how could you..."
Saguru Hakuba's gaze shifted with difficulty from Kanjuro to Ooka Momiji for a moment. His expression was incredibly complex—there was worry and pain, but more so a numbness and resolve after being pushed to the brink. "Momiji... leave him! Get behind me!" he growled, the gun still pointed at Kanjuro.
"Where are the others?" Ooka Momiji didn't move. Instead, she looked around the silent hall, her voice tight. "Is anyone else still alive?"
The muscles in Saguru Hakuba's face twitched, and a chilling coldness seeped through his madness. He spoke slowly, almost one word at a time: "Gone. They've all... been dealt with."
"Dealt... with?" Ooka Momiji gasped. Although she had expected it, hearing it directly from Saguru Hakuba's mouth still felt like falling into an ice cellar. She looked at the stinging dark red at the corner of Saguru Hakuba's mouth, and an even more terrifying connection surfaced in her mind, making her stomach churn. "You... don't tell me you didn't just..."
"Kill them?" Saguru Hakuba let out a short, shrill sneer, his smile horribly distorted. "In a place like this, surviving to the end... requires more than just killing." He didn't deny it; his gaze even seemed to say that to survive, he was willing to do anything, including things that broke the most basic human limits. The blood at the corner of his mouth seemed to be some silent and horrifying proof.
Ooka Momiji felt cold all over, even colder than the extreme chill she had felt in the basement. The proud, intelligent, and justice-minded teenage Detective she knew had completely warped and collapsed in this purgatory-like game. Killing... or even worse... all for the sake of those three words: "to survive."
From beginning to end, Kanjuro watched all of this calmly, as if the gun in Saguru Hakuba's hand and his manic posture were merely a child's toys. He even lightly raised his hand to pull Ooka Momiji, who had subconsciously tried to block for him, behind himself. This protective gesture made the killing intent in Saguru Hakuba's eyes even stronger.
"Saguru Hakuba," Kanjuro finally spoke, his voice retaining its true magnetic low tone, echoing clearly in the silent hall. "It seems Renya Karasuma's 'tempering' has been remarkably effective on you. You've gone... further than I imagined."
"Shut up!" Saguru Hakuba barked, raising the gun slightly to aim at the center of Kanjuro's forehead. "No matter who you are—Kanjuro's lackey or some other monster... now, either get lost and let me take Momiji away, or... I'll make you the second-to-last one!"
The "second-to-last one" he spoke of was self-evident.
"Take me away?" Ooka Momiji's voice trembled. "Saguru, where are you taking me? To Renya Karasuma? To be his chosen 'blade'?"
"That's not important!" Saguru Hakuba rasped, his gaze somewhat unfocused before forcing it to sharpen again. "What's important is surviving! Momiji, come with me! I have a way... I can make us survive! As long as I clear the final obstacle..." His gaze pierced toward Kanjuro with viciousness once more.
"Your 'way' is to become the sharpest and most obedient blade in Renya Karasuma's hand, and then hope he fulfills his promise to let you go, and maybe even... let me go?" Kanjuro's tone carried a hint of faint mockery. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid your qualification to even become that blade is just a part of his plan—a disposable item to be used and discarded."
"What do you know!" Saguru Hakuba was agitated, his finger tightening on the trigger. "Only by surviving is there hope! Only the one who survives to the end has the right to negotiate terms!"
"Is that so?" Kanjuro raised an eyebrow slightly and suddenly took a small step forward.
"Don't move! I'll fire!" Saguru Hakuba warned sharply, his finger tensing.
In that split second, Kanjuro's figure seemed to blur. It wasn't extreme speed, but a more eerie sensation, as if the light where he stood had slightly distorted.
Saguru Hakuba felt his vision blur, and a sharp pain shot through the wrist holding the gun, as if it had been struck hard by invisible iron pincers! He let out a muffled groan, his fingers involuntarily loosening, and the handgun flew out of his hand, landing on the distant carpet with a clatter.
Before he could react to the shock and pain, Kanjuro had approached like a ghost. One hand gripped his throat like an iron hoop, and the other pressed against the top of his head.
dark bible: Consciousness Peering and Suppression.
There was no dazzling light, only a cold and domineering spiritual force that surged ruthlessly into Saguru Hakuba's consciousness. His body convulsed violently, his eyes rolled back, and he made a gurgling sound. The forcibly suppressed fear, madness, the emptiness after slaughter, and the endless self-loathing and collapse brought by crossing the line for survival were churned up and exposed like a flood bursting through a dam.
A moment later, Kanjuro let go. Saguru Hakuba collapsed to the floor like a pile of mud, coughing and retching violently, his gaze vacant. Only the emptiness and despair of being completely seen through and crushed remained on his face. All his madness and obsession had shattered like paper under that moment of spiritual impact.
Kanjuro looked down at him, his eyes showing no victor's pride, only a nearly indifferent scrutiny. "Do you see? This is the'survival' you risked everything for, even willing to fall into hell to grasp? It's just a cruel segment of a script destined to be deleted."
He turned around, no longer looking at the limp, soul-shattered Saguru Hakuba, and reached out his hand to the pale, trembling Ooka Momiji.
"The obstacle has been cleared." Kanjuro's tone returned to its usual flatness. "But the game isn't over. Renya Karasuma should have already'seen' the 'results' he wanted. Let's go meet this director and see what kind of finale he has prepared for you, the'survivor,' and me, the 'final boss'."
Ooka Momiji looked at Saguru Hakuba on the ground, who looked as if his soul had been sucked out, then at Kanjuro's extended hand, her heart pounding wildly. The complete collapse of her childhood friend, Kanjuro's unfathomable, nearly non-human power, and the unknown final showdown ahead... the immense pressure made her almost unable to breathe.
But this time, she didn't hesitate for long.
She avoided Kanjuro's hand but took a step forward on her own, moving closer to his side, as if only then could she draw the courage needed to face everything that came next... and that twisted sense of security.
"Let's go," she said softly, her voice light but carrying a resolve that burned her bridges.
Kanjuro glanced at her, didn't force the issue, withdrew his hand, and took the lead toward the depths of the hall, toward the main staircase leading to the core area of the Annex.
Ooka Momiji took one last look at Saguru Hakuba, who was slumped on the ground. A flash of complex pity crossed her eyes before she turned and followed closely behind Kanjuro.
The long corridor was deep and dark, as if leading to a giant mouth that devoured everything.
And they were taking the initiative to walk toward the final stage of this bloody game in the Sunset Mansion.
Saguru Hakuba's madness and defeat were merely the last insignificant notes before the opening of the final chapter.
The true contest was about to unfold between the hunter and the "king of crows." Ooka Momiji had already made her choice—to follow the abyss toward the end. Kanjuro's footsteps did not stop because of Saguru Hakuba's collapse. He didn't even spare another glance at the teenage Detective lying on the ornate carpet, whose eyes were hollow as if his soul had been sucked away. His gaze was already fixed deep within the corridor, where a low, rhythmic mechanical hum could be faintly heard, as if the mansion's heart was slowly pulsing, signaling the approach of the finale.
Ooka Momiji followed behind him, glancing uneasily at Saguru Hakuba on the ground. For her childhood friend to end up in such a state was certainly his own choice and rooted in these hellish rules, but the collapse and despair she witnessed still weighed heavily on her heart, sparking a bitter sympathy. At least... he was still alive. Perhaps... losing consciousness like this and no longer participating in the ensuing madness was a form of relief?
Just as this thought arose, she saw Kanjuro, who was walking ahead, stop without warning and with extreme naturalness.
He didn't even turn around completely, only tilting half his body. His arm swung back at a relaxed, casual angle—and in his hand, at some unknown moment, appeared an ordinary-looking but cold, metallic silenced pistol. The movement was so smooth it was as if he were just reaching up to adjust his collar.
Ooka Momiji's pupils suddenly contracted.
"No—!"
As her scream burst out, Kanjuro pulled the trigger.
Pfft.
A muffled sound, so slight it was almost swallowed by the echoes of the corridor.
Saguru Hakuba, slumped on the ground, jolted violently. A small, precise red dot appeared between his eyebrows. In his final moment, his dilated pupils seemed to regain a sliver of focus, staring fixedly and incredulously in Kanjuro's direction. What was reflected there was no longer the silhouette of "Disguise," but the eyes he finally recognized through the fog in the last second of his life—those bottomless eyes belonging to Kanjuro.
"Ye... Xiao...?!" A breathy sound, mixed with extreme shock, realization, and endless resentment, squeezed out from between his blood-stained lips.
Immediately, the light that had just gathered vanished, turning into complete silence. Saguru Hakuba's body relaxed entirely, and the blood hole in his forehead slowly seeped more dark red, soaking the expensive carpet beneath him.
Everything happened in the blink of an eye.
Ooka Momiji froze in place as if encased in ice. She looked at Saguru Hakuba's lifeless body and then snapped her head toward Kanjuro, the color draining from her face, her lips trembling: "You... why?! He already... he's already lost the ability to resist! Why did you kill him?!"
Her voice was sharp with agitation and fear, stirring faint echoes in the empty corridor.
Kanjuro slowly turned around, his face devoid of any unnecessary expression, chillingly calm. He put away the small silenced pistol with an elegant motion, as if putting away an inconsequential tool.
"Why?" He repeated Ooka Momiji's question, his tone as flat as if discussing the weather. "Because he was alive."
"Just... just because of that?" Ooka Momiji couldn't understand. Tears welled in her eyes, whether for Saguru Hakuba or for this senseless cruelty. "He was already mad! He couldn't have threatened us anymore!"
"Threat?" Kanjuro tilted his head slightly, his gaze carrying a nearly patient scrutiny, as if teaching a child who wouldn't learn. "Momiji, don't you understand yet? In this kind of game, or in any situation involving life and death, power, or truly wanting to achieve a goal, 'being alive' itself is the greatest variable and a potential threat."
He took a step closer, his gaze locking onto Ooka Momiji's panicked eyes.
"Hatred, resentment, even a sliver of residual obsession... all could become a poisonous thorn in your back at some unexpected moment in the future. He knew my identity, saw your choices, and experienced a fall he couldn't bear. To let such a person 'live' and leave with all that, or even just to let him 'live' and stay here, is foolish mercy."
He reached out a finger and tapped lightly on Ooka Momiji's chest, where her heart was pounding wildly.
"Killing isn't about venting or entertainment; it's about clearing obstacles and ensuring the path is unobstructed. To pull up weeds, you must remove the roots. Any shred of pity or hesitation that leaves behind seemingly harmless 'roots' could grow back into lethal thorns in future storms, eventually... harming you and destroying everything you want to protect."
His words were cold and clear, dissecting the cruel laws of survival like a scalpel. There was no impassioned tone, yet it was more impactful than any roar.
Ooka Momiji stared at him blankly, looking into the rippleless, deep darkness in his eyes. She remembered the iron pipe she had thrust out to protect 'Big Sister Disguise'; wasn't that also to 'clear an obstacle'? But then, her heart had been full of fear, impulse, and a burning affection for the person she was protecting. Yet Kanjuro's killing now was so cold, so... matter-of-fact, as if he were merely brushing away a speck of dust.
"But... he clearly recognized you just now... he cursed you..." she defended weakly, her voice getting smaller. Saguru Hakuba's resentful cry of "Kanjuro" before he died seemed to still echo in the air.
"Therefore, he deserved to die even more, didn't he?" Kanjuro withdrew his finger, his tone still flat. "He knew what he shouldn't have known and felt emotions he shouldn't have felt. Death is his most logical and merciful end right now. At least he doesn't have to endure the pain of self-collapse and being a pawn for others anymore."
---------------------------------
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! If the story has you hooked and you can't wait to see what happens next, you can unlock 30 chapters in advance over on my Patreon: patreon.com/TLHimejima1
Every bit of support means the world to me so if you're loving the ride, don't forget to drop a Power Stone and let me know.