She ran.
Maybe she was still alive.
Maybe there was still a way to save her.
Driven by that single, desperate thought, she sprinted, searching for a path down to the base of the cliff.
She stumbled and fell several times along the way, scraping her skin and tearing her flesh, but she ignored the pain, scrambling back up immediately to keep running.
Please don’t die!
She wanted to talk to her a little longer.
She wanted to stay by her side just a bit more.
Thinking about it rationally, it was a ridiculous notion.
Only moments ago, she had intended to kill this woman; now, she prayed with all her heart that she would survive.
And yet, she couldn't forget that rough but unmistakably affectionate touch.
Despite meeting Eto for the first time and knowing the girl had come to kill her, the woman had shown her kindness and offered sincere advice.
That alone had transformed the nameless woman into someone Eto could not bear to lose—someone like her father, a presence she desperately wanted to keep alive.
Don’t die, don’t die, don’t die! Please! Please don’t die!!
She veered off the road and plunged into the forest.
There was no path, but Eto ran without hesitation, navigating the wilderness with uncanny precision.
Because she could still smell it.
The thick, metallic scent of blood—a smell she absolutely loathed in this moment.
Finally, Eto arrived directly beneath the cliff where the woman had fallen.
"Hah... hah... hah!"
Suppressing the breath that burned in her throat, Eto took a few cautious steps forward.
There she was.
The woman.
But...
"...Hic."
Tears surged violently. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed where she stood.
When the woman had thrown herself off the cliff, she had worn such a peaceful smile.
That benevolent smile, one that had reminded Eto of the Virgin Mary, was gone.
As if someone had maliciously vandalized a beautiful masterpiece, her face was now stained by death.
Her skull was shattered, fragments of bone and brain scattered across the ground.
Her body was twisted beyond recognition, as if she had struck the rocks repeatedly on the way down, bouncing and breaking with every impact.
It was impossible to believe this was the same woman who had been speaking to her just moments ago. She looked more like a monster from a low-budget horror film.
Eto had never imagined a human body could be ruined so utterly.
"Ugh...!"
Unable to endure the extreme stress, a violent wave of nausea rose in her throat.
Ah, so this is it! This is the death that is eating away at Dad!
Fear, dread, disgust, aversion, dizziness, nausea... a flood of emotions that shook her very soul surged up all at once, tearing at Eto’s heart like a wild beast.
Dad had to endure this for me!
That was why he had fallen ill.
His mind had been brutally hacked apart, leaving wounds that would never stop festering!
But just as she began to understand her father's pain, a new confusion took hold of her.
"Wh... why...?"
Eto couldn't understand why she was calming down so quickly.
Despite the severe nausea, she didn't vomit; it was because the Ghoul instinct within her was whispering that this sight was "only natural."
The human part of Eto saw a tragedy—the face of death. But the Ghoul part saw only one thing: food.
What horrified her most was that she could perceive the death of someone who had shown her such kindness as nothing more than a meal.
It felt like proof that she was fundamentally different from her father.
Proof that, in the eyes of others, she was nothing more than a monster.
That realization was terrifying, agonizing, and profoundly sad.
"Uuuuu... Waaaaaah!"
Eto cried.
Far more composed than other children her age, she rarely wept, but now she wailed, screaming her anguish into the void.
The dead woman had been right.
Her death had left an indelible scar on Eto's heart.
"Waaah!! Waaahhh! Dad!! Dad!! Daaaaad!!!!"
Like a broken machine, she called out for her father over and over.
She wanted to go back to him. She wanted him to hold her.
She wanted to bury herself in his arms and let him shield her wounded heart.
She just wanted to hear him say, "It's okay."
As if possessed, Eto staggered away from the scene.
***
She didn't clearly remember how she eventually made it home.
She had a vague memory of boarding a bus. At a sparsely populated stop, the driver had looked at Eto—a small child alone without a guardian—and asked her several questions, but she didn't remember answering. She likely just sat there in silence, as if she had sealed her ears and mouth shut, paid the fare, and curled up in her seat.
It was a relief that the driver, though suspicious, didn't press her further and simply started the journey.
By the time she reached her house, the sun had just dipped below the horizon, leaving the world in the dim light of early evening.
If her father had already returned, he would have realized she was missing.
I'm... going to get in trouble...
Eto walked with unsteady steps, dreading the confrontation.
She would definitely be scolded. She had vanished without a word and only returned after dark. Her father must have been worried sick, searching for her desperately. He had every right to be angry.
She didn't mind the scolding itself.
What she feared was the question of where she had been.
She didn't want to lie to him, but if she told the truth, it would only bring him more pain.
What was she supposed to do?
Her steps grew heavier with every inch she drew closer to home.
But time continued to flow, and eventually, Eto arrived at her front door.
"...?"
Looking up at the weathered villa, Eto tilted her head.
The lights were off. Had her father not returned yet?
If so, this was her chance.
If she hurried inside and waited for him as if nothing had happened, she might be able to hide the day's events.
Eto quickly stepped into the elevator. She had to hurry to wash up and hide her torn, dirt-stained clothes.
She reached her door and gripped the handle.
Creak...
The door opened. She realized then that she hadn't locked it when she left.
Vowing to be more careful in the future, Eto stepped inside.
She froze.
Eto stopped dead in her tracks before she could even take a full step.
As she stared into the pitch-black interior of the house, her shoulders began to tremble violently.
It was the smell of blood.
The scent of blood was permeating the entire home.
The memory of the woman's corpse flashed through her mind, turning Eto's face deathly pale.
"Eh? ...Eh?"
Eto checked the nameplate, wondering if she had somehow walked into the wrong apartment. But there it was, clearly written: Takaki Koma.
Then what was this?
The home she had left this morning was gone. In its place was a scene of absolute devastation.
Windows were shattered, chairs were smashed to splinters, and household belongings were strewn about in a chaotic mess.
A robbery? No, this felt different. There was a strange dissonance to the wreckage.
It looked like the aftermath of a violent struggle...
And then there was the blood.
At first, she was too confused to process it, but then she realized that this scent was different. It was sweeter, more intoxicating than any other blood she had ever smelled, as if it were actively tempting her.
Eto knew this scent. She couldn't possibly mistake it.
"Dad...?!!"
Terrified, Eto bolted into the house without even stopping to take off her shoes.
"Dad!! Dad, where are you!? Dad!!"
Half-panicked, Eto wailed.
She tore through the house, searching every corner for him, but he was nowhere to be found. All that remained were the splatters of her father's blood across the walls and floor.
"Dad!! DAAAAAD!!!!"
Screaming his name in a frenzy, Eto bolted back out of the house and ran blindly into the night.
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