Chapter 36

Yuki’s face drains of color.

For a moment she just stares at him.

“What..?” The word comes out thin and cracked, barely more than breath.

Dori keeps the phone tilted toward her, his expression unreadable in that same maddeningly calm way.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I was right next door. Her phone was with her, so I hacked into it from my room and turned on the mic. I heard everything. Got the whole thing on tape.”

Yuki doesn’t just look at him; she stares into the void of his complete lack of humanity.

He had been right there. Just on the other side of a wall. While Mei was fighting for her life, while she was screaming or gasping her last breaths, Dori hadn’t alerted the nurses or called the police. He hadn’t tried to burst in. He had just sat there in the dark. Listening. Recording. Maybe even enjoying it.

But that’s exactly who he is, right? Of course he didn’t help. To a man like him, a girl getting murdered wasn’t a tragedy to prevent―it was just leverage to collect.

Dori’s thumb hovers over the screen.

“Wanna hear it?” he asks softly.

The question is so quiet, so casual, that it sends a sharp chill through Yuki’s entire body.

He tilts the phone slightly toward her, the paused audio file waiting beneath his thumb.

“..What she sounded like at the very end,” he whispers, his eyes locking onto hers. “I know how much you hated her. I know you wanted her gone. You’re going to love this, Yuki..”

The room is totally silent. He is just about to push the button when the door suddenly opens.

Yuki’s grandma walks into the living room, wiping her hands on a towel.

“Hey,” she says with a warm smile. “Breakfast is ready on the table. Come and eat now before it all gets cold.”

In a second, the scary feeling is gone. Dori quickly hides the phone in his pocket. His dark smirk turns into a polite, sweet smile so fast that Yuki can barely believe it.

“Actually, ma’am,” he says as he gets up from the couch. “I was just about to take Yuki out. There’s that little restaurant on the corner of the street, and I wanted to take her there for a breakfast date.”

Yuki frowns and looks at him, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“It’s raining,” she says, pointing toward the window.

Dori’s polite smile twitches. “Not in the f*cking restaurant,” he mutters under his breath so her grandmother can’t hear.

Yuki’s frown deepens. “You know what I mean,” she says.

Dori chuckles softly, though his voice is tight. “It’s just a five-minute walk.”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Grandma interrupts, her warm tone turning firm. She looks directly at Dori, then back to Yuki with concern.

“I mean, that’s really sweet of you, Dori, but I don’t want Yuyu going out at all this weekend. She literally fainted yesterday. She needs to stay inside, rest, and eat a proper, warm meal right here where I can keep an eye on her. Besides, I already prepared a big breakfast for both of you. I’m not letting it go to waste.”

Dori’s jaw tightens, and a flash of annoyance crosses his face, but he quickly forces it down. He swallows his anger, and lets out a soft, awkward laugh.

“Alright..”

Yuki glances at him, a cold spike of dread hitting her stomach. She clearly noticed his annoyance, and it terrifies her that it is directed at her grandmother.

Dori has already gotten rid of people just for getting in his way. Now, watching him force a sweet smile, she is gripped by a sickening fear that he will see her grandmother as the next obstacle to eliminate.

Desperate to erase his annoyance and protect her grandmother, Yuki steps forward and gently tugs at his hand.

“Come on, Dori,” she says softly, forcing a warm, reassuring smile to soothe him. “Let’s go eat. You’ve got to try her cooking―it’s amazing, and we can just relax inside today.”

Inside, Yuki’s heart is hammering against her ribs, her stomach churning with disgust and fear. She tries to pull her hand away the second they turn toward the kitchen.

But Dori doesn’t let go.

Instead, his grip tightens, his fingers sliding between hers, intertwining them securely.

He looks down at her, his eyes dark but suddenly alight with genuine pleasure.

He loves this.

Even if her sweetness is completely fake, the fact that she is submitting to him, playing along, and initiating physical contact just to appease him sends a thrill right through him.

“Sure, sweetheart..”

Haruka watches as the two disappear into the kitchen. Her warm smile fades, replaced by a thoughtful look.

She stands still for a moment, then turns toward the vase on the side table and stares at it for a long time, her mind far away.

“Grandma, aren’t you going to eat?” Yuki calls out from the kitchen.

“No, sweetie, I already ate while I was cooking! Enjoy your breakfast!”

Inside the kitchen, the breakfast passes in a tense blur. Yuki forces herself to swallow her food, hyper-aware of every move Dori makes beside her. By the time they finish eating, her stomach feels more knotted than full.

Dori sets his chopsticks down neatly beside his plate and leans back slightly in his chair.

Then his gaze shifts toward her.

“We should go to your room,” he says casually.

Yuki stiffens immediately.

“What?”

Dori chuckles at her panic. He leans closer, his fingers gently sliding into her hair and twisting a lock of it between his fingers.

“Hey.. you’re the one who said we should just relax inside today,” he murmurs. “Your room sounds perfect for that.”

He gives her hair a slight, firm tug.

Yuki gasps. The sudden pull forces her head back slightly, locking her into his dark, intense gaze.

Her heart pounds hard, and she glances nervously toward the kitchen doorway, afraid that her grandma might walk in or hear them.

Dori gives another tug, and as Yuki gasps again, his gaze drops to her parted lips, lingers there for a moment, and then flickers back up to meet her frightened eyes.

“Can’t we just stay down here?” Yuki finally asks. “We can watch a movie in the living room. It’s much more comfortable.”

For a second, he says nothing.

But something shifts in his face.

His jaw tightens just slightly. Not enough to look angry―just enough for Yuki to realize she said the wrong thing.

“Yuki,” he warns. His hand moves farther back, threading through the strands of her hair until his palm settles at the nape of her neck.

And tightens.

“We’re going to your room.”

In an instant, his cold, empty look flashes her right back to last night, seeing him lift the gun and shoot the man without blinking.

Yuki trembles, her breath catching as she quickly nods against his grip and whispers, “O-Okay.”

Dori smirks satisfied. He loves the fear in her eyes; he loves knowing exactly what she is remembering.

Slowly, his tight grip softens. He slides his fingers through her hair, smoothing down the messy strands, then lets go and stands up from the chair.

“Lead the way.”

As they reach the stairs, Yuki swallows her fear and calls out, “Grandma, we’re going up to my room, okay?”

Haruka is still standing next to the side table. She turns her head and looks at them thoughtfully for a moment before nodding.

“Okay, sweetie,” she says. “But take the key out of the lock and leave it on the hall table first, alright? And leave the door open as well.”

Dori lets out a soft, strained laugh, trying to keep his voice casual, but it sounds tense.

“Why is that, ma’am?” he asks, tilting his head with a fake, polite curiosity. “Is there a reason we can’t have some privacy?”

Haruka looks at him, her eyes completely serious now.

“Just a house rule in my home, Dori,” she says. “No closed doors when my Yuyu has a boy over in her bedroom. I’m sure you understand.”

Dori exhales a quiet laugh through his nose, the polite mask slipping just enough to show the irritation underneath.

He rests one shoulder against the banister, gaze lifting toward Haruka with an ease that feels deliberately disrespectful.

“If you’re worried about us having sex, ma’am, you don’t need to be,” he says.

Yuki’s eyes widen slightly.

She hadn’t expected him to say something like that so bluntly. Not to her grandmother.

“We’re not going to do anything like that. We’re just going to watch a movie on Yuki’s laptop.”

He slowly turns his head to look down at Yuki, his gaze raking over her pale face with agonizing slowness. Then, a dark, wicked glint enters his eyes.

“Unless, of course, Yuki wants to,” he adds, “She is an adult, after all. She can decide for herself.”

Yuki’s mouth parts at once, fury rising hot in her chest. But before she can say a word, Haruka speaks.

“You know, Dori,” she begins. “When you first walked through my door, I thought you were a respectful young man. I can see now that is not the case.”

Her expression changes completely. The warmth leaves her face, replaced by something cool and hard.

“Listen. You don’t come into my home and try to outsmart me. You will not use that disrespectful tongue with me, and you certainly will not speak for Yuki. She may be grown, but as long as she is under my roof, she is my responsibility and you will follow my rules. You can take that key out of the lock and leave the bedroom door wide open, or you can walk right out of my front door and never come back. Do I make myself clear?”

Dori’s face freezes, the smug smirk dying on his lips as Haruka’s words hit him.

The sheer absurdity of this old woman trying to command him triggers his pseudobulbar affect, and his chest heaves slightly as he desperately chokes back a sudden, involuntary urge to burst into hysterical laughter.

He does not blink. He just stares at Haruka as a violent impulse flares in his chest―a wild urge to reach out and wrap his hands around the old woman’s throat right here in front of Yuki.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he bends forward from the waist, offering her a low, formal bow. Since his head is angled down, Haruka and Yuki can’t see his face―his eyes are stretched wide and unblinking, staring straight ahead with an unhinged intensity.

“You make yourself perfectly clear, ma’am,” Dori finally says, his voice straining under the immense pressure of holding it together. “And you are right. I apologize. My behavior was disrespectful.”

He pauses, his eyes flickering up to meet hers, letting a carefully calculated shadow of vulnerability cross his face.

“It’s just that.. where I grew up, if you didn’t lock the door, you weren’t safe. My mother..” He hesitates just long enough to make it seem difficult.

“Well, she was a harsh woman who made sure I knew I wasn’t loved. A locked door was the only thing that kept me from being a punching bag. I forget sometimes that I’m in a real home now. A safe one.”

Haruka watches him straighten up, and her stern expression wavers.

“That mouth of mine came from her too. I’m sorry. I’m trying to unlearn it.”

Yuki stares at him. She knows the sad truth about his awful childhood, but she also sees right through him. She can tell he is using his past on purpose just to make her grandmother feel sorry for him and calm down.

And it’s working very well.

“Oh dear,” Haruka says softly, her voice losing its icy edge. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. That’s terrible.”

She takes a short breath and sighs, her sternness entirely replaced by an aching, maternal pity that makes Yuki want to scream.

She walks to the stairs and gently pats his arm. “It’s alright, I forgive you,” she says. “But I still need you to respect the rules of this house, alright? Now, go on up, you two.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Dori says softly, keeping his eyes downcast to look properly humbled.

Then he turns to Yuki.

“After you, sweetheart,” he whispers, his lips twitching as he suppresses a smirk.

Yuki sighs softly. Without a word, she leads the way up the stairs, her heart pounding as Dori follows closely behind her.

The moment she steps into her bedroom, he enters right after, and immediately, he slams the bedroom door shut and twists the lock, instantly breaking her grandmother’s rule without a second thought.

Yuki spins around, her back hitting the desk, her heart leaping into her throat as she stares at the locked door and then up at Dori’s unbothered, dominant stance.

Meanwhile, downstairs, Haruka settles onto the living room couch. Slipping on her reading glasses, she looks down at an old photograph in her hands―a class portrait from her years as a schoolteacher.

Her eyes drift away from the smiling groups of children and lock onto a young boy standing completely isolated on the edge of the frame. He is strikingly pale, with white hair and a piercing red right eye while a thick white bandage covers his left..

TO BE CONTINUED..