My body moved.
Whether it was before or after the 𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩 of the window shattering, I couldn't be sure. The only certainty was that if I hadn't moved, my head would have been torn from my shoulders.
Dark red, metallic tentacles sprouted from the Ghoul's back, grazing the back of my hand. He thrust them forward in a straight line, like a lance from an ancient battlefield, piercing through the glass and into my living space.
𝘙𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘦—𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩!!!
The space just above my waist was cleanly severed. As I rolled across the floor, the phone, flowerpots, and various trinkets that had sat on the shelf were pulverized into wreckage, raining down on me.
A sudden, white-hot fury flared in my chest.
It wasn't just because my life was in danger. It wasn't because I lamented the loss of my belongings. It was the notepad where I'd written the address of the amusement park I planned to take Eto to next week. It was the flowerpot I had watered every single day, waiting for a bud to bloom. These were objects imbued with precious memories, and he was shattering them.
This goddamn Ghoul was trampling through the only sanctuary in the world where Eto could feel safe, dragging his filth-covered feet across everything we built.
Perhaps it was the influence of the medication, but even though I knew it was futile, a blinding rage dictated my next move.
I'm going to ruin you!!!
I lunged, grabbing whatever my hand touched first. Feeling its weight, I swung it with both hands. In my adrenaline-fueled haze, I only realized after the swing that I was wielding my guitar case.
𝘊𝘳𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩!!!
The case was effortlessly reduced to a cloud of wooden splinters. Through the veil of debris, a dark shadow lunged like a predator scenting its prey. It was his right leg.
𝘛𝘩𝘸𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘤𝘬!!!
"𝘒𝘢𝘩…!!!"
The air fled my lungs all at once, as if it couldn't bear to stay. My feet left the floor. A sensation of weightlessness followed. One second… two seconds… how much time had passed? Could I even trust my internal clock right now? It felt as though I had been suspended in the air for ten seconds, but if I'd been hit by a strike that could send me flying that far, I would already be dead.
Yet, I wasn't. My side, where the kick had connected, burned as if branded by a searing iron. A few ribs were definitely broken.
"𝘒𝘩𝘩𝘩… 𝘢𝘢𝘨𝘩…!!"
Grit your teeth. I forced my mangled body up from the floor. Endorphins flooded my brain to dull the agony, while adrenaline granted me the grace to move despite my injuries. I scolded my own stupidity for having charged in without a thought—a mistake that had cost me my literal bones.
You idiot, don't lose your head. You're facing an opponent where the odds are slim even if you use every ounce of your intellect. Don't try to match him with brute force.
Struggling to my feet, I clutched my broken side and put distance between us. We were about six or seven paces apart. Between us sat a single table with my laptop.
"…How did you find this place?"
I suppressed my labored breathing and asked in a low, raspy voice. This was no time for idle chatter, but I needed a moment to focus, to think. Fortunately, the Ghoul, perhaps savoring the fact that he had me cornered, deigned to answer.
"Did you forget that Ghouls have a superior sense of smell? I tracked the blood you leaked through the alleys. Just as the scent was fading, I saw a taxi pulling away. I memorized the plate and followed it. I caught the driver, he told me he dropped you off at these villas, and here I am. Oh, and I cut every phone line in the building just in case you tried anything clever. My timing was perfect, wouldn't you say?"
"Damn it…"
I thought taking a taxi would break the scent trail, but once the taxi itself was found, the effort was rendered moot. As I swallowed a curse, the Ghoul looked at the splinters of the guitar case and flashed an inscrutable smile. Irritated by his expression, I knit my brow.
"What?"
"Nothing… I suspected it when we first met, but it wasn't just my imagination."
The Ghoul retracted his metallic Kagune. With his free hand, he picked up one of the wooden shards and brought it to his nose, closing his eyes as if savoring a fine vintage.
"This guitar case… it reeks of a 'corpse.' You seem to have used all sorts of chemicals to mask it, but this fragrant scent doesn't vanish so easily."
"..."
"Is that why you ran back then? Because there was a body in the case? It seems you have reasons to avoid the police that have nothing to do with being a Ghoul. I wonder what those reasons are…?"
𝘛𝘢𝘱!!
I kicked the table toward him and charged. I didn't have the luxury of letting him think. I had to stop his train of thought before he reached the final conclusion!
The airborne table and my expensive laptop were swatted aside like flies by a flick of his wrist. I didn't miss the opening; as he swung his arm, I lunged and seized it. Despite being a Ghoul, his physical weight wasn't significantly different from a human's. I pulled his arm, intending to throw him over my shoulder.
𝘛𝘩𝘶𝘥!
His body began to lift, but then stopped abruptly in mid-air. The Kagune sprouting from his shoulder blades had pierced the ceiling, anchoring him in place.
"Puny tricks."
"...!!"
The hand I used to grab his arm was now seized by his. Drawing strength from his position—feet planted against the ceiling like a bat—he hurled me through the air.
𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘩!!!
I was thrown into the kitchen. Frying pans fell from their hooks, and plates shattered against the floor. My shoulder struck a hose, knocking it upward, and my fingers caught a valve as I fell. Water began to spray, missing the sink and soaking the floor beneath me.
𝘛𝘢𝘱.
The Ghoul retracted his Kagune from the ceiling and landed gracefully on the floor. I stood up, blood trickling from my mouth, teeth bared. I grabbed a frying pan from the floor and swung it at his exposed head.
𝘛𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩.
The moment I saw his Kagune quiver, survival instinct overrode my rage. I aborted the attack and ducked. The Kagune whistled through the air in a wide horizontal arc, slicing through the space where my neck had been a millisecond ago.
A beat later, the Ghoul turned, and his brutal hand clamped over my face as I tried to rise.
𝘚𝘭𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘮!!
"𝘈𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘨𝘩!!!"
My head was slammed into the wall.
Perhaps he was holding back; my skull didn't shatter, and my brains didn't paint a grotesque abstract on the wallpaper. However, the gauze covering my wound was torn away, and the gash on my forehead reopened, staining the wall with fresh blood. The concussion left me reeling, unable to move.
He tossed me aside like a rag doll, throwing me onto the wreckage of the laptop and the table.
"Is this a professional hazard? Your violent reaction makes me curious about what you're hiding. I forged my identity and test results to become a cop, but I took a certain pride in the work, you know? My little hobby was devouring the citizens who approached me for help, thinking they were safe with the police."
"𝘒𝘩𝘩𝘩… 𝘶𝘨𝘩…"
Judging me to be less than an insect as I crawled on the floor, the Ghoul turned his attention to the room. He spotted the refrigerator and walked toward it. I tried desperately to stand, but only vertigo and nausea rose within me. He stepped over my body and reached the fridge, flinging it open. He began tearing things out, throwing them onto the floor.
And then, he found it.
The lump of meat hidden at the very back of the fridge.
He peeled back the plastic wrap, sniffed the meat, and swallowed a piece whole.
"𝘒𝘶𝘬𝘶𝘬𝘶… No doubt about it. This is human flesh."
His vile laughter echoed in the small room. I reached out from my prone position. Just a little more… just a bit further…
"Human meat in the fridge… I've heard of humans with a taste for it. I could assume it's for you, but… my intuition tells me otherwise."
I touched it. Finally…
While I held my breath, the sound of him rummaging through the kitchen continued. And then came the sound I dreaded most. I stole a glance at him. In his hand were Eto's things.
"A child's spoon and chopsticks… I see. That's how it is. 𝘒𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘩𝘢𝘩𝘢!!! This is a masterpiece!!"
Whether by scent or some other sense, he was now certain that the owner of these utensils was a Ghoul. He threw his head back and laughed, as if he'd just witnessed the most absurd comedy imaginable, then looked back at me.
"Breeding a Ghoul! Just what kind of twisted mind do you have!?"
"..."
𝘎𝘳𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘪𝘯𝘥…
I ground my teeth so hard they threatened to crack. He had reached the conclusion. The existence of Eto—the one thing I wanted to keep hidden at all costs—had been exposed.
He strode toward me. His bare, dirt-caked feet—perhaps his shoes had been lost in the crash—stopped right in front of my face. He leaned down, mocking me.
"A bizarre hobby. Do you get off on things that aren't human? Does it give you a thrill to subjugate and raise a being superior to yourself? Come on, tell me."
𝘛𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘯.
The veins in my hand bulged as I gripped the handle of the frying pan. Listening to him insult both me and Eto was agony. But not yet. Not yet. Wait for the moment.
I bit my lip, enduring the insults raining down from above. In my peripheral vision, I saw the water from the kitchen sink pooling on the floor, reaching his feet.
"…Do you want me to tell you?"
"Haha! Tell me what? How much of a disgrace that 'pet' of yours is to Ghouls?"
"No…"
I braced my hands on the floor and lifted my head. The face reflected in his eyes… was distorted with a rage so primal it felt foreign even to me.
"I'm going to tell you how dangerous it is to insult a daughter in front of her doting father."
Immediately after,
𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘦-𝘉𝘻𝘻𝘻𝘻𝘻𝘻𝘻𝘻𝘻𝘻𝘵!!!
"…?!!!"
Sparks erupted from the Ghoul's body, and he froze instantly. He must have been bewildered—the sudden surge of electricity coursing through his veins was likely not something he anticipated.
The answer was only a glance away.
The wire I had used to pick the handcuffs. I had jammed it into the electrical outlet, letting the other end touch the ground.
And the water from the kitchen had reached that wire.
Standing in that water was the goddamn Ghoul who had spent the last few minutes insulting me and my daughter.
But I didn't give him the answer.
As his body locked up from the electrical shock, I whispered through the haze of my concussion.
"Grit your teeth, you bastard."
Lurching past the pain, I gripped the frying pan with both hands and swung it with every ounce of my remaining strength into his face.
𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘢𝘯𝘨!!!
The sound was sharp, heavy, and immensely satisfying.