Chapter 8

After Worman walked Yuki home, the boy stands outside her house for a moment as she goes inside. His usual goofy smile is still on his face, but as soon as the door clicks shut behind the girl, his expression changes.

The smile fades, and his face turns serious.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a photo he took earlier. It shows Yuki, frozen in fear, with Dori looming over her.

Worman stares at it for a few seconds, his jaw tightening. Then he scoffs softly, folds the photo in half, and shoves it back into his pocket.

With a sigh, he turns and starts walking away.

His boots crunch in the snow as he walks through the quiet streets. His hands are stuffed deep in his pockets, and his breath fogs up in the cold air.

The streetlights fade behind him as he heads toward the woods. The trees around him are tall and bare, with thin, dark branches reaching up. The wind makes them move a little, filling the air with soft creaking sounds.

Eventually, Worman reaches his house that’s standing alone between the trees, far from any neighbors. Next to it stands an old wooden shed, its roof piled with snow. The area is quiet except for the faint sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

Worman walks up to the house and stops by the door. He pulls Pierus carefully out of his coat pocket and crouches down.

“Sorry for keeping you, little one,” he mumbles and brushes away some of the snow from the ground, revealing the soft earth underneath.

“Go live your worm life now..” He places the worm on the dirt and watches as it squirms for a moment before disappearing into the ground.

Worman stands up, dusts off his knees, and walks inside the house. The warm air hits him as he closes the door behind him, and his golden retriever, Hijgerta, runs over, wagging her tail.

Worman smiles and bends down to pet her. “Hey, girl,” he says, scratching behind her ears.

Hijgerta barks and stands on her hind legs for a moment to lick his nose.

The boy snorts and pushes her away gently. “I’ve told you a hundred times, stop doing that,” he says narrowing his eyes, pretending to be annoyed. “You can’t mow my nose hair.”

Hijgerta doesn’t listen; she stands up and licks his nose again.

Worman groans and pushes her away. “Bad girl,” he tuts, shaking his head.

Then he stands up and walks toward his room.

He quickly pulls off his school uniform, tossing it on the bed. Then he pulls on a tank top and jeans. He huffs as he finishes getting dressed, running a hand through his messy hair before heading out.

The cold hits him right away as he steps out the door and his boots crunch in the snow as he walks towards the shed next to the house.

The shed is small and made of wood. It’s built right up against the house, almost like it’s part of it.

He reaches the door and pulls it open, the wood creaking loudly. The cold air follows him inside until he firmly shuts the door behind him, plunging the shed into total darkness.

Worman reaches up, feeling for the thin rope dangling from the ceiling. With a quick tug, the bulb flickers to life, casting a yellowish glow.

The light washes over a whiteboard mounted on the wall in front of him. The board is covered with pictures, notes, and scribbles connecting different pieces of information. Strings are pinned between some of the photos, and among the them are snapshots of Dori and Yuki.

Worman stands still for a moment, his eyes moving slowly over the board.

He pulls the picture he took earlier out of his pocket and unfolds it. With a quiet sigh, he grabs a pushpin from a small cup sitting on a nearby shelf and adds the photo to the board.

Then he steps back and leans forward with both hands resting on the table in front of it. His eyes drop to the lanyard lying there―a detective’s badge attached at the end, along with a small photo of him clipped to it.

He stares at it for a moment, his fingers lightly brushing over the badge’s surface.

With a hum, he picks it up and slips the lanyard over his head, letting it rest against his chest.

That’s right..

Worman isn’t just some high school student.

He’s actually 26 and a detective working undercover―his real name is Dōjima Aren.

He’s been following Dori for nearly two years now.

It all began when Aren still lived in town.

He had a neighbor, a woman named Aimi, around his age with curly red hair. They would greet each other in the mornings and sometimes chat about their jobs. Unlike others, she thought his sense of humor was funny, and she always laughed at his weirdness.

But then, one day, things changed.

Aimi began talking to him less. She looked pale and worried, often zoning out when he spoke to her. She even started smoking, something she had always hated.

When he asked what was wrong, she’d brush it off, saying she’d just had a rough day at work.

Then, one day, she said something that really unsettled him.

She was staring blankly ahead, not even looking at him, when she spoke in a detached tone: “I’d never kill myself. No matter how bad things get, I wouldn’t do that.”

After a pause, she added, “So if I suddenly die one day, and it looks like suicide..” She finally turned to look at him, her eyes hollow. “It’s not. It’s murder.”

Aren frowned as he stared at her.

“Why would you say something like that? What’s going on?” he asked concerned. “Is someone threatening you?”

She looked away, shaking her head slightly. “I’m late for work,” she said quietly, turning on her heel and walking away.

Aren didn’t have the chance to push further. His phone buzzed with an urgent call from work―a new case had come in, and he was needed immediately.

Reluctantly, he left, telling himself he’d check on her later.

○○○

Later in the evening, when he was at a crime scene, his phone started ringing. The number was unknown and he was in the middle of work, so he ignored it.

But the phone kept ringing―over and over, as if the caller refused to give up.

Finally, he picked up, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” he said with a sigh.

But all he heard was faint, labored breathing. It sounded like someone was struggling to catch their breath.

“Hello?” he repeated, frowning.

Then he heard it―a faint, familiar voice.

“Aren..”

He froze. It was Aimi.

“Aimi?” he asked quickly. He’d given her his number before, telling her to call if she was ever in trouble. “Are you okay? Why are you breathing like that?”

“K.. ku.. ro.. da.. D-Dori..” Her voice was weak, fading.

“What?” he asked confused.

He heard a soft thud, like the phone had fallen to the ground, and then silence.

“Aimi? Are you there? Hey! Answer me!” he shouted.

Silence.

His heart pounded as dread settled over him. Something was very wrong. And remembering what Aimi had said in the morning..

Without hesitation, he called for backup, and jumped into his car. The engine started, and he sped off.

“Kuroda Dori..” he muttered to himself.

Who was that? And why did she say that name? What was she trying to say?

Every second felt like it was too late. He pressed harder on the gas. He had to reach her in time.

When he arrived at her place, he saw the front door wide open. His stomach twisted with unease as he rushed out of the car, his heart pounding in his chest. He reached the door, pushing it open slowly, and the moment he stepped inside, the smell of blood hit him.

His eyes scanned the room, and there she was―Aimi, lying motionless on the floor.

Blood splattered the walls, the floor, and even a bookcase nearby. A knife lay beside her, soaked in crimson.

Aren froze, his breath catching in his throat.

“No..” he whispered, feeling his knees buckle as he stepped closer.

There was no sign of life in her―no movement, no breath. She was already gone.

His coworkers arrived minutes later, but Aren barely noticed them as he stood frozen, his eyes glued to Aimi’s lifeless body.

He had seen the signs, hadn’t he? The way she’d changed. The way she’d looked at him that day, empty and distant. The strange words she’d said; “If I die one day, and it looks like suicide.. it’s not. It’s murder.”

Aren closed his eyes for a moment, his chest tight with regret.

He should’ve asked more questions, pushed her more, followed her to work that day. Maybe then he could’ve stopped whatever had happened.

“Goddammit,” he hissed under his breath and clenched his fists, the weight of the guilt almost suffocating him.

He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to pull it together. There was no time to break down. Not now. The killer was out there, and they couldn’t be far.

Every second counted.

Aren quickly turned to his team, giving them orders. “You, check the neighbors. Ask if they heard anything or saw anyone suspicious.”

He glanced at a couple of others. “You two, go through the nearby CCTV footage. The rest of you, block off the area. Make sure no one comes in or out.”

He paused for a moment, thinking of Aimi’s last words: Kuroda Dori.

“Start looking into Kuroda Dori. Find out who he is, where he lives. He’s the key to this―I’m sure of it.”

He then moved to search the area himself. The forensics team arrived soon after, and the investigation began in full swing.

About an hour later, Aren was outside, speaking with his officers when his phone rang. It was Shun, his senior officer.

“Boss,” Shun’s voice came through, “it’s suicide.”

Aren froze, his heart skipping a beat. “What?” he muttered, his voice filled with disbelief. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Shun said. “The forensics team confirmed it. Only her own fingerprints were on the knife. She stabbed herself to death. And Kuroda Dori―he has an alibi. He wasn’t involved.

Aren stood there, staring into the distance, the words echoing in his mind: “If I die one day and it seems like suicide.. it’s murder.”
 
 
TO BE CONTINUED…

Author’s note: May I ask to not spoil anything of this chapter to the people who only watch the animated version (since i havent animated this yet). If I see it happen anyway in the comments, I’ll have no choice but to only publish the written version when the animted version is finished as well