Aira wasn’t answering.

  The first call rang out. The second went to voicemail. The third he ended before it could go to voicemail.

  She always replied. Always. Even if it was just: “Practicing. Call later.”

  Akira stood outside staring at his phone until the unease stopped being unease and became certainty.

  Something was wrong.

  Where would she practice alone?

  Not home. Too loud. Not the church. Locked. Not Ren’s.

  The theatre.

  He ran.

  The doors were closed. Light bled faintly from beneath them.

  Her song echoed inside. Instrumental only. Looping. No vocals.

  All he could hear was the endless echoing loop of his heart racing.

  His mind rewinding the same words in his head.

  Please be wrong. Please be wrong. Please be wrong. Please be wrong.

  Akira’s hand trembled slightly as he pushed the door open.

  The auditorium was empty.

  The stage lights were on. Bright. Blinding.

  And at the center—

  Aira.

  She laid flat beneath the spotlight. Her blonde hair spread like spilled sunlight. White blouse stained red.

  A rose stem protruded clean through her chest. The petals rested against her uniform like decoration.

  Like someone was making her into a spectacle.

  Akira didn’t scream. He moved.

  Up the steps. Two at a time. Dropped to his knees beside her.

  “Aira.”

  Her skin was warm. Still warm. Her eyes fluttered weakly at the sound of his voice.

  “…Akira…”

  The relief in her tone almost killed him.

  “I’m here,” he choked. “I’m here. Don’t move. Don’t talk. We’ll fix it.”

  His hands pressed uselessly against the wound. Blood soaked through his fingers.

  “It hurts,” she whispered.

  “I know. I know. Just stay with me.”

  Her breathing was shallow. Wet. She looked up at the lights above her.

  “I thought… I’d be nervous…”

  “You were amazing,” he said desperately. “We’ll get you ready for your concert.”

  A faint smile flickered across her face.

  “I wanted… to be seen…”

  “You were,” he said. “I always was watching you. I sometimes was scared of being caught staring.”

  Her fingers twitched. He grabbed them instantly.

  “I should’ve… waited…”

  “For what?”

  “For you.”

  His throat tightened. “You don’t need to anymore… I’m right here.”

  Her eyes softened. “I’m glad… It was you who found me like this…”

  “No,” he whispered. “Don’t say that.”

  Her breathing hitched.

  “…I’m sorry…”

  “For what?”

  She didn’t answer.

  Her body went still. Her fingers loosened in his grip.

  And then.. Nothing. Nothing at all.

  Akira stared at her face. Waiting for a breath. Waiting for something. Anything.

  The instrumental kept looping. Swelling. Fading. Swelling again.

  He pressed his forehead to her chest.

  He couldn’t contain it anymore. It was like that night all over again.

  This time, there was no pill.

  No coping.

  Just the weight of Aira’s cold body left in his arms.

  His tears rushed down falling on her like the rain that started to pour outside.

  It was deafening. Every single drop.

  I failed. Again. Why. What even was the point of coming back if I couldn’t save her…

  Is the world just getting a sick twisted comedy made around my misery?

  The spotlight hummed faintly overhead.

  After a long moment, he stood. Walked downstage.

  In the middle of the room stood a camera, pointing directly to the stage.

  The one from the photography club department. They used it before to practice rehearsals for their show.

  There was a small note taped to it. Click play.

  He pressed it.

  The screen flickered.

  Ren appeared. Sitting casually in one of the theatre seats. Hands folded loosely.

  “Hey.”

  His voice was soft. Almost gentle.

  “I knew you’d come.”

  Akira didn’t move.

  “To be honest with you, she wasn’t meant to be next.”

  A small exhale.

  “I had someone else lined up. Easier. More subtle of a target.”

  He leaned forward slightly.

  “But then you put her on stage.”

  His lips curved faintly.

  “You know how much that pissed me off?”

  He looked almost tired.

  “I work for attention.” He tapped his temple lightly. “I calculate rooms. I steer conversations. I decide where people look.”

  A pause.

  “And she just… walks in.”

  The bitterness finally surfaced.

  “She shines without trying.”

  Ren leaned back, his expression shifting into a smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

  “You know, when you asked me about Yui at the park? I had to hold in my laughter seeing your reaction.”

  Akira’s blood went cold.

  “Why?.”

  Ren laughed. His disgusting rotten laugh that sounded like a crow screaching

  “Remember Kana. She chewed her nails. She took up the space I wanted. I remember every second of her final look like why me. It was simple. She was an eye-sore, she had potential.”

  He leaned closer to the lens.

  “I remember them all, Akira. I just didn’t want you to know I was winning.”

  His gaze hardened.

  “And I can’t let anyone outshine me.”

  Akira’s fingers dug into the camera.

  “I wasn’t going to move her up,” Ren continued. “But that idol thing? That pissed me off.”

  Silence.

  “I’m sorry, bro.”

  He wasn’t.

  He leaned closer to the lens.

  “She should’ve stayed small in her own little world.”

  The video ended.

  The instrumental kept playing. Akira stood alone in the auditorium.

  The Goddess appeared in the aisle. Watching.

  “Will you accept my—”

  “Shut up.”

  His voice cut her off. She raised an eyebrow.

  “I don’t need you.”

  She tilted her head slightly. “You’re grieving.”

  “I’m angry.”

  “That will pass.”

  “Shut up,” he said quietly.

  He walked back to the stage. Lifted Aira carefully into his arms.

  “You said I was hesitating.”

  The Goddess said nothing.

  “You said I needed your power.”

  Silence.

  He looked down at Aira. At the rose. At the spotlight.

  “I don’t need your coins.”

  The Goddess watched him carefully.

  “I will kill him myself.”

  The air grew colder.

  “And then,” he continued, voice steady despite the tears still on his face, “I’ll dismantle this game without you.”

  She smiled faintly. “Ambitious.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “I’m not playing.”

  The Goddess’s eyes glimmered. “You already are.”

  He ignored her.

  Akira sent a single text to Shun. “Theatre.”

  He laid Aira gently back on the stage. Straightened her hair. Turned off the music.

  The theatre fell silent.

  No spotlight. No applause. No audience.

  Just the body of the girl who shined without trying.

  The conference room smelled like burnt coffee and impatience.

  Two homicides. Same school. One unidentified female. One very identified male.

  Matsuda Kaito.

  Soccer vice-captain. Popular. Connected. Remembered.

  Detective Shun leaned over the table, fingers planted against scattered photos.

  “It doesn’t line up,” he said flatly.

  Across from him, his superior shrugged.

  “Two bodies on school grounds. Same timeframe. Same age bracket. It lines up enough.”

  “No,” Shun replied, sharper. “The first girl was unclaimed. No digital footprint. No confirmed social ties. The second…”

  “Kaito had enemies,” the superior interrupted. “High school politics. It escalates.”

  Shun’s jaw tightened. “The MO doesn’t match.”

  “MO is a luxury,” the superior replied. “We need closure.”

  That word. Closure.

  The room moved on without him. Files were stamped. Cases merged. The Mist Killer narrative was quietly retired.

  Officially? A school-linked double homicide.

  Shun stared at Kaito’s photo. Something was wrong.

  He tried calling Akira. No answer.

  He went to his house. Empty. His sister mentioned Akira hadn’t been in school since the day of the double homicide.

  Three deaths. One missing witness. And now a merged case.

  Shun leaned back in his chair that night.

  “They think I’m overthinking it,” he muttered.

  But he wasn’t. Not yet.

  Ren woke to sunlight and two girls tangled in his sheets.

  One draped over his arm. The other half-asleep against his shoulder.

  He didn’t move for a moment. He listened. The house was quiet. Safe.

  He smiled faintly.

  “Morning,” one of them murmured.

  He brushed her hair back gently. “Morning.”

  He checked his phone.

  Messages. Concern. Whispers spreading. Two students were found dead. Akira missing.

  Ren’s expression shifted perfectly. Concerned. Worried.

  He sat up slowly.

  “Guys,” he said softly. “I think something’s really wrong.”

  By the time he arrived at school, the narrative was already forming. Ren fed it carefully.

  “I haven’t seen Akira since… that night.”

  He ran a hand through his hair, troubled.

  “And now guys are being targeted?”

  He let that line sit.

  Akira’s missing.

  Eyes widened. Fear shifted. Speculation moved. If boys were targets now… then anyone could be next.

  Including Ren.

  He didn’t overplay it. He didn’t need to. He had already stolen enough spotlight to steer rooms effortlessly.

  Aira’s death had amplified him. Her spotlight transferred. He felt it. Rooms leaned toward him now. More than before.

  He felt it. He was the main character of his own story now.

  Ren met her at a cheap motel near the train line.

  She was smiling too much. Nervous. Flattered. She wasn’t popular. She wasn’t loud. She glowed only because he looked at her.

  “That’s enough,” he said softly as she stepped backward toward the bed.

  He closed the door. Locked it.

  The dagger slid into his hand like memory.

  Black blade. No reflection.

  It pulsed faintly in his grip. It wasn’t flashy. It didn’t glow. It simply consumed.

  “Ren?” she asked softly.

  He stepped closer.

  “You’re lucky,” he whispered.

  The dagger entered cleanly beneath her ribs. Her breath hitched. No scream.

  The blade shifted. Warped. Its tip extended like liquid shadow, phasing through space.

  For a split second it appeared behind Ren.

  Testing. If someone stood there it would have slit their throat instantly.

  It was a perfect weapon. One stab. Existence. Now belongs to him.

  Her body slackened. Her eyes dulled. And something invisible flowed from her into him.

  Weight. Presence. Memory.

  She was already fading.

  There was a click.

  Ren turned.

  Akira stood in the doorway. Phone raised. Recording.

  Ren blinked once. “…You’re bold.”

  Akira stepped forward. “I just needed to see it.”

  The dagger hummed softly.

  “You shouldn’t have,” Ren said calmly.

  “I know.”

  There was no anger in Akira’s voice. Just certainty.

  Ren moved. One step.

  The dagger pierced Akira’s abdomen.

  Clean. Efficient.

  The blade pulsed. Extended. Slid through him like he was air. If Akira had stood anywhere else he’d have been dead immediately.

  Ren pulled the blade free.

  Akira collapsed. Blood pooled beneath him.

  Ren stepped forward and crushed the phone beneath his heel. Glass shattered. Recording gone.

  He crouched slightly. “You could’ve stayed out of this.”

  Akira coughed. Blood foamed at his lips.

  He laughed.

  Ren paused. “…What’s funny?”

  Akira looked at him through blurred vision.

  Ren tilted his head.

  Akira’s eyes shifted to the dagger.

  Ren left. The door shut.

  The room was quiet.

  The girl lay half-naked beside him. Already fading. Already nothing.

  Akira felt warmth draining from his body.

  The dagger had pierced more than flesh. It had reached behind Ren. It could contort and change its shape. It wasn’t a normal blade.

  That power couldn’t be beaten directly. Not without preparation. Not without repetition.

  He laughed weakly. “So stupid…”

  Footsteps that weren’t footsteps approached.

  The Goddess stood over him.

  “I’ll do you a favor,” she said softly. “I’ll read your mind for your reply since your mouth seems to be a bit full.”

  Akira coughed blood.

  “How convenient,” he rasped.

  “You have all that power… and you don’t use it.”

  She looked down at him.

  “I used it once. To bring you back.”

  “And now I’m wasting it,” he whispered.

  “Yes.”

  He smiled faintly. “Good.”

  Her expression shifted slightly.

  “My life is worthless,” he breathed. “If it means I can save the ones that are worth something…”

  His eyes were fading.

  “Then I’ll do it again.”

  The Goddess was silent.

  “And again.”

  Blood filled his mouth.

  “I know my wish.”

  Darkness crept in.

  Akira didn’t go to school.

  He didn’t answer his phone. He didn’t check messages.

  He sat on the floor of his bedroom with his back against the bed and stared at nothing.

  Aira stood near the window. Not real. Not speaking. Just there.

  Her hair caught the light the way it used to. Her expression wasn’t accusing. It was worse. It was soft.

  He squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them she was still there.

  “You’re not real,” he muttered.

  She didn’t answer. She never did. Not before. Not now.

  This wasn’t stress anymore. This was grief.

  He had failed her twice. Once where he couldn’t remember. Second on the stage.

  And now the house felt wrong. Too intact. Too normal.

  He pressed his palms against his eyes until colors sparked.

  “I’ll kill him,” he whispered.

  The air shifted. The smell of rain and old incense filled the room.

  “You?”

  The Goddess stood in the center of his room. Hands folded loosely behind her back.

  “You can barely stand.”

  He didn’t look at her. “I don’t need you.”

  She laughed. It wasn’t cruel. It was pity.

  “I chose you.” She reminded him.

  “I regret that.” Akira replied instantly.

  He stood slowly. “I’ll kill him.”

  “With what?” she asked lightly. “Your anger?”

  He didn’t respond. She circled him slowly.

  “You proclaimed last night you’d kill him without a blessing.”

  “I will.”

  “Unsightly.”

  That made him look at her.

  “You’re pitiful right now,” she continued calmly. “You can’t even find him.”

  He clenched his fists. She tilted her head.

  “I’ll toss you a bone.”

  He said nothing.

  “A bet.”

  Silence.

  “I will tell you exactly when and where Ren will kill next.”

  His jaw tightened.

  “You’re not allowed to interfere.”

  “I’m not interfering,” she replied lightly. “I’m observing.”

  “And cheating.”

  She smiled faintly. “Yes.”

  He hesitated. “You’ll be there.”

  “You’ll see his blessing.”

  “You’ll record it.”

  “You simply have to escape with proof.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “And if I do?”

  “I continue breaking rules for you.” She said it casually. “I’ll feed you what you need.”

  Information. Timing. Names. Every advantage.

  “And if I fail?”

  She met his gaze directly.

  “You take my coin.”

  His stomach tightened. “I said no.”

  “You won’t say no when you’re dying.”

  He didn’t respond. “What do you get out of this?” he asked finally.

  “If I fail, I die.”

  “I don’t believe you’ll let that happen so easily,” she said.

  He hated that she was right.

  “You think I won’t keep my word?”

  She smiled faintly. “I have a feeling.”

  He stared at her. She was mocking him. His words. The same ones he used when he found the bodies. I have a feeling.

  Silence stretched.

  “When?” he asked quietly.

  “Tonight.”

  8:17 PM. Train-side apartments. The girl is a second-year. Haruna Saito.

  “She thinks she’s special.”

  His pulse slowed. “Are you sure?”

  “I don’t guess.”

  He exhaled. “Fine.”

  She watched him carefully. “Repeat the terms.”

  “I go. I record. I escape.”

  “If I succeed, you keep helping.”

  “And if you fail?”

  He swallowed.

  “I take your blessing.”

  She smiled faintly. “That’s enough.”

  She faded.

  Aira still stood by the window. Watching.

  He looked at her.

  “I won’t fail again.”

  She didn’t answer.

  8:16 PM.

  The hallway outside the apartment was dim.

  Akira stood at the corner, phone in his hand. He could hear muffled laughter inside. A girl’s voice. Nervous. Excited.

  The door closed. A lock clicked.

  Akira’s throat tightened. He stepped closer. Pressed record.

  The door was slightly ajar. Through the gap. There he was.

  Ren stood behind her. Smiling.

  “Ren?” the girl asked softly.

  He moved fast.

  A blade appeared in his hand.

  Black. Matte. Wrong.

  It slid into her beneath the ribs. Her breath caught.

  Akira froze.

  No glow. No flash. The dagger pulsed faintly. The girl’s eyes went blank.

  And something invisible shifted in the air. Ozone. Burnt dust.

  Ren inhaled slowly. Like he had just taken a breath underwater.

  Akira’s stomach twisted. He didn’t understand what he was seeing.

  The blade twitched.

  For a split second it extended. Behind Ren. Into empty space. As if anticipating something.

  Akira’s heart skipped.

  Auto-defense.

  The girl collapsed. Ren turned. Their eyes met.

  Silence.

  Ren blinked once. “…You’re bold.”

  Akira stepped forward. “I just needed to see it.”

  The dagger hummed softly.

  “You shouldn’t have,” Ren said calmly.

  “I know.”

  There was no anger in Akira’s voice. Just certainty.

  Ren moved. One step.

  The dagger pierced Akira’s abdomen.

  Clean. Efficient.

  The blade pulsed. Extended. Slid through him like he was air. If Akira had stood anywhere else he’d have been dead immediately.

  Ren pulled the blade free.

  Akira collapsed. Blood pooled beneath him.

  Ren stepped forward and crushed the phone beneath his heel. Glass shattered. Recording gone.

  He crouched slightly. “You could’ve stayed out of this.”

  Akira coughed. Blood foamed at his lips.

  He laughed.

  Ren paused. “…What’s funny?”

  Akira looked at him through blurred vision.

  Ren tilted his head.

  Akira’s eyes shifted to the dagger.

  Ren left. The door shut.

  Akira laid on the floor. Blood pooling beneath him. The girl beside him fading into nothing.

  He tried to breathe. It didn’t work.

  The dagger. It reacted. Akira never had a chance.

  He had thought he could just witness it and leave. He had thought it was that simple.

  Akira laughed weakly. Blood bubbled at his lips.

  “So stupid…”

  The Goddess appeared above him.

  “I’ll do you a favor,” she said softly. “I’ll read your mind for your wish since your mouth seems to be a bit full.”

  Akira coughed blood.

  “How convenient,” he rasped.

  “You have all that power… and you don’t use it.”

  She looked down at him.

  “I used it once. To bring you back.”

  “And now I’m wasting it,” he whispered.

  “Yes.”

  He smiled faintly. “Good.”

  Her expression shifted slightly.

  “My life is worthless,” he breathed. “If it means I can save the ones that are worth something…”

  His eyes were fading.

  “Then I’ll do it again.”

  The Goddess was silent.

  “And again.”

  Blood filled his mouth.

  “I know my wish.”

  Darkness crept in.

  Sunlight filtered through curtains.

  The ceiling was wrong. The air was clean. His hands were smaller.

  The room was the same as before. The same desk. The same calendar. The same morning light.

  Somewhere down the hall his mother’s voice called out.

  “Akira! You’re going to be late!”

  A bark followed. Strong. Alive.

  Akira lay there. Staring at the ceiling.

  And this time—

  He smiled.