Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
The sound tore through the precious sleep I so desperately needed after a grueling dawn.
I frowned and opened my eyes. Outside the window, it was already broad daylight.
Eto was still asleep in my arms. Had she been asleep this whole time, or had she woken up and pretended to sleep so she wouldn't wake me? I suspected the latter.
I groped around for my phone.
11:56 a.m. Damn it, I overslept.
Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
“So noisy...”
Who the hell was hammering the doorbell with such zero manners? The noise didn't just wake me; it woke Eto as well.
Leaving Eto to rub her eyes like a kitten, I walked toward the front door.
“Yes, who is it—”
“KOMAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!”
“Ghk!?”
The moment I opened the door, a perfectly executed lariat flew straight into my neck—a move so precise a professional wrestler would have nodded in approval.
I was lifted off the ground for a second or two before the momentum sent me rolling across the floor.
“Daddy!?”
Eto screamed at the sudden chaos.
I raised a hand to show I was fine, then shouted at the unexpected intruder.
“What the hell is wrong with you, Hitokawa!!”
“Shut up, you idiot!! What the hell did you do this time!!”
There he was, my stubborn old frenemy, Hitokawa Tomoru, storming in with a furious expression.
At Hitokawa’s question, my heart skipped a beat.
Because Hitokawa was a Ghoul Investigator.
He was still a rookie among rookies, having held his official post for less than a year, but he was undeniably part of the force that stood in total opposition to Ghouls.
The fact that he had suddenly barged into my home—where I was hiding a Ghoul—while in such a rage was an ominous sign.
However, Hitokawa wasn't wearing the white coat of a Ghoul Investigator; he was in plain clothes. His superior, who usually accompanied him, was also nowhere to be seen.
In other words, Hitokawa hadn't come here in an official capacity. That was a small mercy.
Then why was he acting like this? He provided the answer soon enough.
“Look at this!”
Hitokawa thrust a piece of paper toward me... it was a composite sketch. Huh? This person looked familiar. Where had I seen him?
Ah, right. It was the same guy I saw every morning in the mirror when I washed my face. ...Wait.
“...Is this supposed to be me?”
“It’s badly drawn. My dad is way more handsome than that.”
Eto stepped closer to peer at the sketch, giving the drawing a low rating while praising my looks.
Hitokawa crossed his arms and looked down at me.
“Do you know there was a murder in this area yesterday?”
“...Not really. I didn't hear about it.”
I maintained a perfect poker face, mentally erasing the conversation I'd had with the police officer at dawn.
“The investigation found Ghoul bodily fluids at the scene. Because of that, the case was transferred from the police to the CCG.”
“Hmm. And?”
“Shortly after the incident, a suspicious person was spotted in the vicinity who reportedly fled after shaking off a police checkpoint.”
*Uh-oh.*
“This is the composite sketch based on the officers' eyewitness accounts. It doesn't look exactly like you, but it's close, isn't it?”
*Uh-oh. Uh-oh.*
“You didn't seriously come all the way here just because of a sketch, did you?”
“No, at first I thought it was just a coincidence. The details were slightly off—probably because it was dark and the cops couldn't see clearly. But once I analyzed the composition of the liquid that the suspect splashed on the officer's face before fleeing, I knew it was you.”
“Why?”
At that, Hitokawa pressed his trembling fingers to his temples and yelled, “Paint, corn syrup, ammonia, and a bunch of other crap... How can you ask that when the first test subject for your childhood paint bombs is standing right in front of you!?”
Ah, right. Was that in first or second grade?
I remembered making a homemade paint bomb by accident and, curious about its effectiveness, testing it on Hitokawa until he cried.
My father had scolded me severely, and I'd had to apologize to Hitokawa and his parents with a massive lump on my head.
“Wow, you still remember that?”
“Because that liquid was a trauma!”
Was it really that bad? Well, I suppose having a sticky, weird-smelling, neon-colored liquid that refuses to come off suddenly splattered on your face would be quite the shock.
“Daddy. I want to learn how to make those paint bombs too.”
“What for?”
“So if Uncle Hitokawa barges in rudely again, I can throw one at him and chase him away.”
“I'll teach you when I have time. It's simple as long as you get the ratios right.”
“Don’t teach her!!”
I spent the next few minutes tuning out Hitokawa's nagging until he said something I couldn't ignore.
“...Anyway! Because of this, the CCG is looking for you!”
“What?”
The CCG was looking for me?
Someone with a clean conscience would have shrugged it off, but for someone like me, with secrets that could never be revealed, I couldn't help but tense up.
“By some coincidence, the officer who returned to the checkpoint found a few drops of blood, presumed to be human. The higher-ups have decided you might be the Ghoul responsible, or at least someone connected to the case.”
*...!*
A few drops of blood.
I knew exactly where they came from.
The guitar case shoved in the corner of my closet.
Normally, I would have sealed it so tightly that not a single drop could leak, but I had forced in far more meat than usual, creating a gap.
The bloodstains found there were almost certainly mine.
The situation had turned precarious. However, staying silent would only make things worse, so I answered quickly.
“Me, a Ghoul? That's ridiculous.”
“I thought so too, which is why I haven't reported it yet. Reporting something without certainty is dangerous. So, tell me—why were you out at a place like that at that hour instead of sleeping?”
I couldn't tell him that while I wasn't the murderer, I was doing something even more problematic.
I couldn't let Hitokawa become suspicious, but I couldn't just dodge the question either.
One lie leads to a thousand more, and that's the fastest way to get caught.
The best way to deceive someone is to blend truth and lies so seamlessly that they can't tell them apart.
A truth that could mask a lie... a truth I could actually share...
There was one truth I could tell Hitokawa, though it was something I could never reveal to one specific person.
I glanced sideways.
“...?”
Eto tilted her head, meeting my gaze with curiosity.
“Wait inside for a moment, sweetheart.”
I patted Eto on the head, then tapped Hitokawa on the shoulder and gestured toward the door.
“Let’s talk somewhere else.”
“...?”
Hitokawa looked puzzled, but sensing the gravity of my mood, he followed me out in silence.
He didn't say a word as we left the house and rode the elevator down, but the moment we stepped outside the villa entrance, he spoke.
“What is this about?”
“...”
Without a word, I pulled a cylindrical case from my pocket and tossed it to him. Hitokawa caught it with ease, his suspicion deepening as he looked at it.
His eyes scanned the English text on the label.
“A... alp... alpra... zo...?”
“Alprazolam. It’s medication I’m taking.”
“Medicine? Are you sick?”
“Sick... I suppose. Though there's nothing physically wrong with me.”
“What? If you're not physically sick, why are you taking meds?”
“My body is fine, but this part isn't.”
Tap, tap.
I tapped my chest, and Hitokawa frowned, clearly confused.
“Or maybe here.”
I tapped my head.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“It’s an anti-anxiety drug.”
“...!?”
An anti-anxiety drug.
To put it simply, it was a psychotropic medication. Hitokawa was speechless for a long moment, clearly shocked that his friend was taking such a drug.
“Y-you! Why on earth are you...!”
“I think it started after my father died... things just started feeling wrong. I can't even watch horror movies on TV anymore. The moment a corpse appears, I get nauseous and run straight for the bathroom.”
“Koma...”
“Listen, Hitokawa...”
I was truly glad Eto wasn't here to hear this.
Not just because of the subject matter, but because the expression on my face right now was likely the most hollow and lifeless Hitokawa had ever seen.
“Do you have any idea what it feels like to have the fear of death gnawing at your mind every single day?”
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