The figure moved silently through the shadows, his presence blending into the night as he made his way toward a towering luxury apartment. The city lights reflected off the glass windows, masking the darkness that lurked beneath the surface.
A soft click echoed as he unlocked the door.
The moment he stepped inside, an elegant woman, dressed in a silk nightgown, turned to face him. Her deep red lips parted as she sighed in frustration.
"darling, why are you so late?" she murmured, her voice laced with both concern and irritation.
She crossed her arms, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against her skin. "The children were waiting for you. You promised to take them out for dinner."
Her eyes flickered with sadness. "They stayed up as long as they could, but eventually… they fell asleep. they were disappointed!"
The figure's expression didn't change. Without a word, he walked past her and entered the dimly lit bedroom where two small figures lay curled up in bed. His cold, calloused fingers brushed against their soft hair as he muttered, "Gomen na (I'm sorry)," but his voice lacked warmth.
It was just an obligation.
Returning to the living room, he found the woman still standing there, her frustration growing.
"Why do you even make promises if you don't intend to keep them?" she demanded. "You didn't even call! Where were you all this time?"
His jaw tensed.
"It was an urgent business meeting," he replied flatly, loosening his tie.
But she wasn't satisfied. "You always have excuses! Why can't you just—"
Before she could finish, his hand shot out, fingers tangling in her hair.
She gasped, pain flaring in her scalp as he yanked her head back. His dark eyes bore into hers, void of emotion.
"Don't fool yourself into thinking you're my woman," he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "You're just a slut. A maid. Someone I pay to take care of the children."
Her breath hitched.
"You want money, don't you? I've already paid you."
She whimpered. "T-That's not— I just—"
"Then how dare you question me?"
With a sharp shove, he threw her onto the plush sofa. She barely caught herself before collapsing completely.
"I-I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice trembling. "Onegai (please), baby… I won't do it again… Please don't—"
But he didn't care.
Pain blossomed across her skin as his hand met her cheek, his rage manifesting in the bruises he left behind. He loomed over her, his fingers gripping her jaw as he crushed his lips against hers. She trembled beneath his force, powerless against his strength.
And then—
He froze.
His mind blurred, the lines of reality shifting.
Her face melted away, replaced by another. A different set of eyes. A different pair of lips.
Kira.
His grip loosened, his breath ragged as he pulled away.
The woman flinched, eyes glistening with unshed tears, terrified to move.
His fingers trailed down her cheek, but there was no tenderness—only cruel possession.
"Did you forget what I did to my wife… and my parents?" he whispered, his voice a chilling reminder of past horrors.
She trembled violently, her lips parting in silent terror.
"No… I haven't…" she breathed.
"Yokatta (good)," he murmured, releasing her with a shove. "Then don't ask questions again."
Without another word, he turned on his heel, his footsteps echoing as he made his way down the dim hallway.
He stopped before a locked door.
Sliding his fingers over the cold metal handle, he pressed his thumb against the scanner. A soft beep sounded, and the door creaked open.
Darkness swallowed him whole as he stepped inside.
The air was thick with obsession.
The walls were covered—every inch littered with photographs. Some old. Some recent. Some from before she became Luna, others capturing her now, living as the idol the world adored.
His fingers trailed over one of the images, his touch eerily gentle.
"You're just like me, Yukimura Kira…" he whispered, his voice almost reverent. "Living two lives. Hiding your true self. That's why you're my number one… That's why I need you."
His breathing turned ragged, his fingers trembling as his desire burned hotter.
But frustration clawed at his chest.
"Then why is it so hard to reach you?"
With a roar of anger, he swung his arm, knocking books and papers off a nearby shelf. They crashed to the floor, but the chaos did little to calm him.
His fingers curled into fists. His obsession. His madness. His need for her—
It was unbearable.
A sick smile crept onto his lips as he gazed at her pictures once more.
"Sugu da yo, Kira… (Very soon, Kira…)"
And then—
Darkness swallowed the room once again.
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