Content Warning:
This chapter contains scenes of graphic violence, psychological distress, and intense emotional themes. Reader discretion is advised.
After Hikari's death, Kage was never the same.
The joy in his eyes vanished that day. What replaced it was silence... and a weight no child should carry.
He wasn't there at her funeral.
He couldn't be.
While friends and family mourned the little girl who brought light into every room, Kage was confined to a hospital room—mentally shattered, clinging to what remained of his mind. He never got to say goodbye.
The trauma followed him like a shadow, lingering even as he grew older. By the time he turned fourteen, he was able to laugh again, speak again—but he was never whole. And even though he swore he'd stay single forever, part of him had begun to forget that strange man in the park. The memory dulled with time.
But fate wasn't finished with him.
Two years later, when Kage was sixteen, disaster struck again.
His father's company collapsed under debt. The bank seized their family house. They moved into a small rented flat on the edge of the city, scraping by month after month.
And just when it seemed like the suffering might end—hope arrived.
A promising business deal. A powerful investor. A potential turning point that could restore their lives.
PRESENT DAY
Kage's father was at the office, attending the final meeting that would seal the deal.
At home, Kage was helping prepare the last set of documents.
"Oi, hurry up, slowpoke, come up!" he called out to his sister.
"Coming! And stop calling me slowpoke!" she shouted back.
"Dad called me to bring these files. Stay in the house and watch over things, okay?"
"Okay, okay. Just go."
Kage grabbed the file, hopped onto his bike, and sped off toward the office.
But along the way, something felt... off.
His phone rang. The screen showed "No Service". He tried to call his father—no answer.
He frowned and pushed harder on the throttle.
When he arrived at the office building, the front gate stood wide open.
No guards. No receptionist. Just silence.
He stepped inside slowly.
The lights flickered. The air felt cold.
And then—
The meeting room.
The door creaked as he pushed it open.
Kage froze.
Bodies.
Blood everywhere.
Every single person in the meeting… dead. Brutally torn apart—limbs twisted, throats slashed. One man's head lay on the table, staring at the ceiling.
But his father… wasn't there.
He stumbled backward, breath shallow, trying not to vomit.
Then—
A low creak echoed behind him.
He turned around.
And saw it.
Hanging from the center of the ceiling by thick chains was his father's corpse—split cleanly from neck to waist, his body swinging gently in the stale air.
His eyes were missing.
And when Kage stepped closer, he screamed.
His father's eyes had been stuffed into his own mouth.
Blood dripped in rhythmic taps onto the floor.
And scrawled across the wall behind him in what looked like human blood were the words:
"THE GAME BEGINS: SECOND STAGE
"NEXT IS YOUR MOTHER"