He dreams.

He was holding a heavy knife. Each time he swung it, the knife felt just right, as if it had the perfect weight, and when it sank deep into flesh, the sensation of holding it in his hand felt flawless. Though the blade was drenched in blood and fat, it remained as sharp as ever, with hot blood running along the groove, soaking the already saturated gloves.

There was nothing particularly good or bad about it.

It seemed like he was enjoying himself a little. It was akin to the feeling of warming up the body with a few light stretches.

But unless it was the prey he was truly after, this feeling didn’t exceed the simple thrill of physical movement.

*Puck!*――One down.

*Puck!*――Another one.

‘Where could it be…?’

He muttered as if humming a tune.

It must be hiding somewhere in this building. That elusive prey.

If it died, so be it. Or if someone else died in its place, that would be fine too. As long as he could catch the one who had brought everything to this point.

And then.

‘…Ah ha.’

He laughed.

He found it. On the stairs, where thick darkness loomed, with no light penetrating through.

‘I have a keen sense of smell, and I’ve never been wrong when it comes to sensing my prey.’

The moment he whispered, the prey began to flee. In the darkness, it left behind a faint enough trail to follow.

Not a single word. The hurried footsteps of the one running away sounded unusual. Perhaps they were injured somewhere.

But that didn’t matter. All he had to do was corner the prey into the dark and sever its head. Or maybe not. Last time, his gun had exploded; this time, perhaps his sharp blade would break. But even if the blade snapped, cutting off someone’s head wouldn’t be difficult. What kind of miraculous luck would unfold this time?

Would that guy still not die? Not even now?

It didn’t take long to chase down the prey. He had to admire the clever movements of the prey, dodging the swings of his blade just barely each time. It wasn’t luck, but reflexes that had saved them, at least for now.

Indeed, this one wasn’t easy to kill.

A mix of excitement and murderous intent gradually welled up inside him.

Dead or alive, it didn’t matter. But if he had to choose, this one should have died. Those tied irreversibly to ‘that person’ would be better off disappearing, wouldn’t they?――Ah, yes. But therein lay the problem. If he killed this man, ‘that person’ would surely resent him.

That was the only thing making his blade hesitate.

But how long would this man’s extraordinary luck last? The thought of testing it began to stir inside him.

At the dead end, he twisted his blade and lunged at the prey. Without hesitation, he plunged the knife into the prey, gasping in the darkness before him.

But just then, a gunshot rang out as if perfectly timed. The sharp scent of gunpowder filled the air.

‘Stay away from him!’

As expected, that guy had arrived. He knew the man would come looking for him. Though it would’ve been fine if he hadn’t, it was even better that he did.

He laughed loudly. It didn’t matter who arrived first, whether it was this man or that guy. It made no difference who died first or who killed whom.

The fact that the other guy held a gun wasn’t an obstacle at all. What truly bothered him were the murmurs echoing from below as others began to ascend. It seemed the vermin had finally started creeping up, albeit slowly.

Both he and the other guy were injured.

It appeared that he had taken a rather deep cut to the stomach, but he merely clicked his tongue. This was just a minor price to pay for the brief pleasure of tonight. As he considered sheathing his knife, those climbing up from below were almost upon them.

Fine. Tonight was quite entertaining. Now all that mattered was making sure they would never see him again, neither in front of this guy nor that man. That would be enough.

He paid no attention to the ramblings of the two men. His mind was already drifting to the idea that it was time to return to Berlin. Yes, he had come all the way to Frankfurt to find and take that one who he thought was hiding somewhere here.

He gently flicked away the congealed, sticky blood that clung to the blade, now thick and caramel-like, gleaming deep crimson under the flashlights of those who had just reached the top.

A beam of white light tore through the darkness, shining directly on him.

Under that light, he wiped the blade clean with the hem of his coat and cast an aimless gaze around him. There stood those——who had almost become his victims.

Before he could even take in the mouth gagged shut, preventing the man from speaking during the entire chase, his eyes were drawn to the man’s face, smeared with blood and dirt.

Their eyes met. His hand was wiping the blade, froze instantly as he locked onto that gaze.

‘…―.’

He stood frozen, staring intently at that face. In disbelief, he blinked once or twice, staring at someone who shouldn’t have been there.

‘Tae… …. …―.’

His tongue had been on the verge of uttering something, but the words froze halfway. A familiar name flashed briefly in his mind, yet his thoughts suddenly went blank, unable to grasp anything.

The owner of that name wasn’t supposed to be here.

This person shouldn’t be sitting there.

The person sitting there was the one he had almost killed with his own hands.

The man, who was silently staring at him without blinking even once, finally closed his eyes as sweat mixed with blood trickled into them. It was only when he saw the wet eyelashes twitch that he realized his eyes hadn’t deceived him.

Was the person he had nearly killed really ‘that person’?

If he had been just a little more precise. If he had been just a bit more serious about slashing the man’s throat…

Perhaps now, he would be looking at a corpse. A corpse under the flashlight, with its throat cut by his faithful blade.

‘……’

The man, after gently pushing the unconscious man off himself, slowly stood up. His trembling legs forced him to brace his hands against the stairs, and though he staggered for a moment, he struggled to step toward him. As he wiped his face with his arm, he inadvertently hit his wound, grimacing and muttering a pained: ‘Ayaya.’

He remained motionless, staring in silence. It wasn’t until the man got close enough that he finally spoke:

‘Ilay. You need to go to the hospital.’

‘Huh…?’

The man’s words barely registered in his ears. He just kept staring into the man’s vivid eyes, watching his lips move.

‘Your guts are spilling out.’

The man didn’t dare look down; he just gave a slight nod of his chin. When he glanced down in the indicated direction, he saw his stomach was slashed open by the blade, and his insides were threatening to spill out.

So what? None of that mattered anymore.

What about you?

What were you thinking?

While you couldn’t say a word and could only run, did you call out my name in your heart? Did you scream for me to stop? When the blade sliced into your flesh, did you scream in silence?

‘Let’s go.’

‘――Go where?’

He frantically grabbed the young man as he turned to walk away in front of him. The young man, now held back, stared wide-eyed up at him.

‘The hospital!’

‘…Oh… The hospital… It’s not necessary.’

‘You need to go!’

The man with a pale face shouted out. He looked at him for a moment, then quietly followed. As they descended the stairs, the young man suddenly yelled out like a scream: ‘Stop walking! Your guts are going to spill out! You need a stretcher!’, causing him to stop again.

‘You’re no different from a corpse, except for the fact that you’re still moving.’ – The man shuddered as he muttered, but his gaze never left him.

The man was still alive. He hadn’t killed him.

A cold feeling clenched his heart, too strong to be called relief, and it didn’t fade. His heart felt frozen, but when the young man ran off to call for help and returned with a stretcher,… his heart seemed to slowly start beating again, one pulse at a time.

‘Ah… just looking at this is enough to stop my heart. If I stay around you like this, I doubt I’ll live to old age.’

The man glanced down at his body cautiously, his face tightening with concern. ‘Shouldn’t you be wrapping this up with bandages or something?’ – He muttered, his eyes darting around in search of something. When he replied: ‘This is nothing’, the man shot him a sharp, icy glare. Only when he met that gaze did a small sense of relief creep inside him, and he slowly took a deep breath.

But.

That was when he realized.

This kind of thing could happen again at any moment. Whether he wanted it or not.

His nature, the people surrounding him, and the complex relationships intertwined with it all could drag him back into the same situation again.

This was the price he had to pay for the life he had built—one that, until now, had been free of obstacles.