Chapter Forty-Two: The True Monster

Mio Ito stumbled as she ran, weaving through thickets, clambering over barriers, cutting across roads littered with dead branches and fallen leaves, until at last she arrived in a strange neighborhood. Passersby stared in shock at the ragged girl, her hands bound with rope, her face haggard beyond recognition. But Mio ignored their bewildered glances and ran blindly down the sidewalk.

The bookstore...

She had to find that bookstore...

Yet “Suomi Bookstore” was a place she’d only visited once, just last night; a fleeting encounter. To find it again in the endless sea of people—how impossible would that be?

...Even so.

Somehow, she had a vague premonition.

It was there.

Mio could sense the direction where “Suomi Bookstore” lay. She had no way of knowing that, through the “perceptual pendant,” Shigaya not only perceived what she saw and felt, but could subtly influence her body, guiding her like an insect following pheromones.

But even without understanding any of this, Mio, relying on nothing but her hazy intuition, stumbled toward the right path.

Neighborhoods, roads, crowds...

Without even realizing it, her steps grew lighter, her gait steadier. The rope binding her hands was torn apart with a sudden surge of strength, and she ran forward freely, arms swinging.

At last, she caught sight of the bookstore standing by the roadside.

“Suomi Bookstore.”

Without hesitation, Mio rushed inside. As she pushed open the door, it banged loudly.

“...Manager—!”

She dashed up to Shigaya.

“...Manager, please, you must save Manami!”

The young man looked up at her, his face calm, as though he’d understood everything from the start.

“Take a seat. Would you like some tea?”

He smiled gently, as if he hadn’t heard Mio’s urgent plea.

Mio almost wondered if she’d misheard.

“...Manager, Manami was caught by Mia Mineyama while trying to rescue me. Please, you must save—”

“It’ll be fine.”

Shigaya spoke quietly.

“Don’t worry. Manami Mizuhara won’t be seriously harmed by Mia Mineyama.”

Though he’d never met Mineyama, and knew nothing of what had happened today, he spoke with such certainty.

...Why?

Mio stared at him intently, her anxious, worried, sorrowful gaze slowly fading, replaced only by calm confusion.

And as if responding to that confusion in her eyes, Shigaya met her gaze and quietly said:

“...Manami Mizuhara will be all right—regarding this matter, Miss Mio, you should know best, shouldn’t you?”

How much did he know?

What did he know?

Mio pondered silently.

Suddenly, Shigaya stood, locked the glass door of the bookstore, drew the curtains, leaving only a single dim lamp in the shop, its light muted and yellow.

Yet Mio knew he had no intention of doing anything untoward to her; with her face as it was, neither men nor women would ever be interested in anything more than the barest physical contact.

So...what did he want?

“...There are still things I don’t understand. After all, what’s buried deep in memory—hormonal secretions, shifts in bioelectricity—it’s hard to see from just those.”

He drew the curtains and sat back behind the counter, gazing at her gently.

His tone seemed to carry a peculiar magic, compelling one to entrust their most treasured secrets.

“So, Miss Mio, I want to hear your story.”

At a moment like this, while the girl who had saved her—Manami—was surrounded by a delinquent gang, fate unknown, this young man said, “he wanted to hear her story”?

Was this some joke?

...And yet, Mio felt no real surprise.

She took a deep breath.

She looked directly at Shigaya and began to speak.

...

“So cold...”

That was Manami Mizuhara’s first sensation upon waking.

Bound hand and foot, lying on cold cement, pain coursing through her body, she finally understood, in some small measure, what Mio-senpai had just experienced.

Fortunately, she felt nothing amiss below her waist, and her clothes remained intact; it seemed the thing she most feared hadn’t happened.

The pendant on her chest hadn’t been taken, either—a sign that Mia Mineyama and her crew hadn’t subjected her to that fate.

“I wonder how Mio-senpai is doing...”

In the darkness, Manami recalled the girl she’d saved and prayed for her in silence. She hoped Mio would remain unharmed.

She had never been a hero before, but since meeting Mio Ito, it felt as if a new self had awakened inside her—stepping forward, rescuing others, acting with the boldness of a protagonist. She’d managed such feats twice in just two days.

“It... really doesn’t feel like me...”

Thinking this, Manami felt not a trace of regret.

On the contrary, knowing she’d saved Mio, helped her escape from Mineyama’s grasp, filled her with courage.

“Click—”

A sound like a switch being thrown echoed from somewhere.

A huge spotlight, the kind seen only in movies, shone from a wall nearby, casting her out of darkness into blinding light. Manami squeezed her eyes shut.

When footsteps approached and stopped before her, she opened her eyes again.

A blonde girl, backlit, wearing tall boots, looked down at her; but because her silhouette was in shadow, Manami couldn’t discern her expression.

Surprisingly, the delinquent girl was alone—her usual followers nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, Manami Mizuhara, why did you come to save Mio Ito?”

Mineyama’s first question, so similar to what Mio had asked when she arrived, left Manami momentarily stunned.

But she felt nothing but hostility toward Mineyama, and had no intention of answering; she wanted to snort dismissively, but before she could, a thought struck her.

“...You know my name?”

It was possible Mineyama had learned it from someone else, but comparing this information to the jumble of thoughts she’d had while rushing to rescue Mio, Manami felt a vague sense of foreboding.

“No, it can’t be...”

The next words from Mineyama’s lips confirmed her uneasy suspicion.

“—That’s right, of course I know your name. Your friend told me.”

“My... friend?”

“Heh, everyone calls her ‘Lucia,’ you know that name, don’t you?”

It was as if the world collapsed; in that moment, her stomach filled with lead.

“Ryoko... How could she do such a thing...”

“This is nothing unusual. Betrayal, deceit, oppression—they’re human nature, and only through them do we find pleasure. It’s true for me, and true for Ryoko Okuyama. You, on the other hand, are the oddity.”

Mineyama’s voice came from a great distance, cold, arrogant, tinged with a strange self-loathing.

Manami clenched her teeth, determined to ignore Ryoko’s betrayal, transforming that heavy feeling into anger. Though she lay bound on the ground, she still retorted fiercely:

“No, that’s not true... Ryoko is a good person... Mio-senpai too... Only people like you find joy in tormenting classmates, subjecting them to cruelty.

“...You are the real monster!”

The air seemed to freeze.

Mineyama stood still in the spotlight, gazing at Manami.

Unable to see her expression, Manami had no idea what she was thinking.

But... inexplicably, a sense of dread crept in.

“A real monster? Heh...”

Mineyama suddenly laughed, her voice brimming with malice.

“I’m not the real monster—in my eyes, there’s only one such monster...

“...Hey, Manami Mizuhara, when you rushed up to me, driven by your laughable, tedious sense of justice and brainless hot-blooded courage, I wanted to ask you.

“...How much do you really know about Mio Ito?”

“...What do you mean?”

Manami swallowed.

She felt as if a shapeless shadow was enveloping her.

“—Let me tell you, then.”

Mineyama stopped laughing; her voice grew cold as ice.

But the malice in her words grew only stronger.

And then, in the empty, abandoned factory, in a space inhabited only by the two girls, she began to tell an unbelievable story.

...

“So that’s it... This is Miss Mio’s past?

“—In your childhood, a bout of collective bullying in your class was finally ended by your father’s intervention; afterward, your father died, leaving you and your mother alone in a cold home. Your mother became obsessed with a strange religion, her personality gradually deteriorating, and you suffered daily bullying at school, which continued to this day, until Manami came to your rescue.”

Shigaya sat behind the counter, listening to Mio’s story, a faint smile on his lips.

When the girl finished her straightforward account, he summarized it lightly.

Mio nodded silently.

Shigaya, as if moved by sympathy, sighed.

He raised his teacup and took a gentle sip.

Then set it down calmly.

“Thunk.”

At the moment when the cup met the wooden counter, Shigaya spoke softly.

“A tragic story, indeed...

“...But unfortunately, it’s a lie.”