3 Chapter 3: The Cause

[Day 0]

"Your mother…" Klyscha's words floated in the air, soft and tender, like a gentle caress. "She wished above all for you to live. My purpose... was to remind you of her sacred love."

Asahi found himself lost in her gaze, a whirlpool of emotions churning within. "In other words, you just wanted me to get over my depression and cherish my life more."

The footage of his mother's death had easily achieved the aim of alleviating his depression, while also motivating him towards a new goal.

"...Yes, you can say that."

"Klyscha, you are a goddess," he spoke slowly in a solemn tone. "Is it possible for you to resurrect her?"

His mother had sacrificed herself to prioritize his health, deserving a second chance at life. Yet, he was unaware of Klyscha's powers; he could only hope she possessed the ability to resurrect someone.

She shook her head. "My domain is over dreams. The mother you want won't be the same as her distorted version in dreams… it'll be her but not her at the same time."

"Then how am I alive? Did I die or did you apprehend me without killing me?"

"You died," she answered calmly. "I only carried your soul to my domain."

"How did it happen?"

Klyscha revealed a delicate smile at his question. "The girl your family hired to protect you from every harm — she murdered you in cold blood."

His pupils dilated to the extreme, reflecting every ounce of shock he received from the truth. "...Aimi?"

Klyscha's hood suddenly pulled over and covered most of her face. She slashed the air, summoning a swirl of white particles that formed a tactical knife in her hand. Her lips stretched into a disturbing grin that very much reminded him of her smile after she revealed her true form.

Without warning, she stabbed the table. Her delicate hands carried enough strength to drive the blade down to the handle.

He gulped down audibly. "Klyscha…"

Tack. Tack. Tack. The sharp knife punctured the table repeatedly under Klyscha's frantic stabbing. After riddling the table with twenty-five holes, Klyscha turned the knife against herself and drove it into her chest. "Asahi-sama, I'm sorry it had to end this way. But we'll reunite in Heaven — I promise!"

"..."

Klyscha flipped back her hood and returned to her expressionless self. "This is how Aimi Akane killed you. Yes, you were stabbed to death by her razor-sharp combat knife."

He dramatically struck the table. "I don't remember raising her flags. Why did she go all stabby on me?"

"Are you sure?" Klyscha inquired in a sharp voice. "Think hard, Asahi… did you never do anything to raise her flags?"

"You don't mean that…"

"Yes, it's that."

Asahi winced as the memory of a sunny day came rushing back. It was an ordinary day following his return from middle school. After eating a healthy meal and completing his homework, he had gone to his bodyguard's room with the intention of inviting her to play video games. Instead, he inadvertently walked in on her, wearing her panties.

The sight of her supple yet toned ass was seared into his brain to this very day.

He shook his head. "I swear it wasn't intentional."

Klyscha tapped the table playfully. "In the wise words of your own bodyguard: Roses are red, handcuffs are naughty. If you ever try to harm my Young Master, they'd never find your body."

"..."

"Or the time she snuck into your bedroom at night and embraced you while sleeping: I can hide the body of every person who tries to harm you or take advantage of your kindness. But it's getting more and more impossible to hide these feelings anymore… Asahi-sama, there is so much bad in me. I can't ever hope to earn your affection… but I still want to be with you."

"..."

"My favorite one: Don't call me a stalker. I don't stalk him. We go on a romantic walk, but only I know about it."

Asahi placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart throbbing. "The passion… There is just no way that stern-faced woman said all of this. I can't believe it."

Klyscha cleared her throat. "What I meant to show you is that Aimi's brain doesn't function in the same manner as your average girl. She must've seen something that caused her to kill you and herself."

"Still, she didn't need to commit mutual murder. Wait, is that even a word?"

Klyscha summoned the same tactical knife again and slid it on the table toward him. "I can bring Aimi Akane back to life and let you kill her over and over… Do you want to punish her?"

He felt a shiver running down his spine. Klyscha's emotionless expression didn't falter — every word that came out of her mouth was true. She would allow him to avenge his death by killing that yandere.

He unhesitatingly shook his head. "No, I can't. Despite everything, I can't bring myself to harm her."

Aimi acted out of line, but he also made a fatal mistake. Even though she always stayed by his side, guarding him from every type of threat, he didn't pay attention to the obvious signs of her growing obsession with him

'So much for laughing at the School Days' guy.'

At least Mokoto had a justified death because of his scumbag behavior. He, on the other hand, died just because of accidentally seeing his bodyguard's butt.

Klyscha's brows furrowed. "Are you forgiving the woman who killed you?"

He burst into coughing. "I wouldn't be alive if she didn't save me from those assassination attempts. Besides, my life was pretty boring down on earth." 

The only meaningful thing was the time spent in the embrace of those considerate milfs — one thing that never grew stale.

Klyscha leaned her chin into her elbow, gazing at him tenderly. "It's not like you to get depressed."

"Come on, you should know how I spiraled into this state. I'm just glad that my old life is over. I should even thank Aimi for the stabbing, as she allowed me to meet my dream goddess. Get it?"

"..."

"You just mentioned you can bring Aimi to me. Why can't you bring my mother back?"

"Because, I…" Klyscha averted her gaze suspiciously. "It's how my abilities work…"

"You're hiding something."

"I'm not! There is a way to bring her back," Klyscha said as she furiously slammed her fists on the table. "It has to do with your 'past'."

"My past? What is it about my past?"

"You…"