Prologue

Love? What is that?

Daichi's legs trembled, betraying him, as a stern-faced policeman ushered him back with a firm hand, guiding him behind the stark yellow tape at the school's entrance. He stumbled, his knees buckling, sending him crashing to the ground in an ungainly heap, narrowly avoiding the scattered shoes of other students. Their eyes, like his, were riveted in collective horror to the scene unfolding before them.

There, splayed in a haunting tableau just beyond the school's main doors, lay a figure so still, so eerily silent, it seemed an aberration against the everyday backdrop of their academic sanctuary. The distance between them was mere meters, yet the pungent, iron-rich scent of blood – a vibrant, almost surreal crimson that marred the cold concrete – assaulted Daichi's senses with such ferocity that bile rose unbidden in his throat.

"No... it couldn't be..."

It was Mio, her lifeless form a stark, jarring contrast to the last memory he had of her. She was the final voice that had echoed in his mind before he succumbed to a restless slumber, fervently wishing for the nightmarish entity she carried to vanish, praying that her haunting words were nothing but a figment of a troubled dream.

Daichi's heart raced, a frantic drumbeat in his chest, as he staggered to his feet, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. With limbs shaking as if he were a leaf in a tempest, he spun around, his movements abrupt, almost violent. He shoved through the dense throng of onlookers, a wild urgency propelling him forward, driving him to flee the scene like a fugitive haunted by unseen demons.

In his mind, a single thought reverberated, echoing with the fervour of desperate denial.

She was bluffing. That's all it was – a cruel jest born of anger. Papa couldn't have... wouldn't have betrayed me. Papa loves me!

With each step, Daichi's pace quickened, as though speed could somehow bring him closer to an elusive truth, a sanctuary from the chaos that now engulfed his world. But reality, cruel and unyielding, struck him with the force of a physical blow – a stinging slap across his cheek, leaving a lingering throb that seemed to echo the turmoil within.

"Papa...?"

Blinking through the shock, Daichi's eyes met those of Miura-san. The man's gaze was fierce, predatory, like a hawk zeroing in on its quarry. His breath was laboured, his chest heaving with barely restrained emotion, his jaw and fists clenched in a display of barely controlled fury.

"You shouldn't say that to her, you idiot!" Miura-san's words were like daggers, each one slicing through Daichi's confusion, leaving him staggered by the onslaught of a harsh, unfathomable reality.

At that moment, a sharp pang of realization pierced Daichi's heart, the words resonating, echoing inside him. They seeped into his vulnerable core, unearthing a turmoil he couldn't quite comprehend. Speechless, he stood there, grappling with the fragments of a world he no longer understood, struggling to piece together why his father, his pillar, his guide, was consumed with such rage towards him.