My Knife Pointing At Your Heart

CHAPTER 1

Chapter 1: A Bloody Start

‘My knife will be in your heart soon.’

The school’s grand auditorium was practically vibrating with anticipation. Velvet curtains framed the glowing stage, and the murmurs of the finely dressed student body filled the heavy air.

"And the award for the Best Actress of the Performance Roleplay goes to..." the Headmaster’s voice boomed through the microphone, echoing off the high ceilings. He paused, holding the golden envelope with a theatrical flourish, letting the suspense stretch.

Before he could even breathe the first syllable of the winner's name, a piercing, blood-curdling scream shattered the silence.

"THERE'S A DEAD BODY OUTSIDE!"

The auditorium froze. For a split second, nobody breathed. Then, the excitement instantly dissolved into sheer, unadulterated panic. The heavy mahogany double doors at the back of the hall burst open, and a chaotic wave of students rushed out into the cool night air, bottlenecking at the grand marble staircase in front of the school's main entrance.

Gasps, horrified whispers, and the sound of someone violently retching filled the air.

There, sprawled awkwardly across the cold stone steps, lay a girl. Her once-pristine dress was ruined, soaked in a dark, expanding pool of crimson. Her eyes were wide and vacant, staring up at the moonless sky. Protruding sickeningly from the side of her skull was a sharp, jagged piece of polished metal and glass.
A trembling student near the front pointed a shaking finger at the gore. "Is that... is that a piece of the Best Actress trophy?"

5 DAYS EARLIER

YURIKA'S POV:

“Parang may mali sa akin... Sa natatandaan ko, parang palagi akong walang laman. Hindi kompleto. Parang may kulang sa aking buhay. Ang hungkag na pakiramdam na ito ay nangingibabaw sa aking buong pagkatao.”

Something has always been deeply wrong with me. For as long as my memory stretches back, I have been empty. A hollow shell of a person. It isn't just a fleeting sadness; it is a profound, echoing void that dominates my entire existence. I don't feel anger. I don't feel joy. I don't feel sorrow. My world is nothing but an endless, deafening stretch of gray—cold, dark, and perfectly quiet.
I am just like my mother. She used to be a ghost wandering through life, just like me. But she told me a story once. She told me that when she finally met my father, the curse broke. Everything changed. He was the catalyst that brought color, life, and radiant light into her bleak world. He completed her in a way nothing else could.

She promised me that one day, my turn would come. She promised I would meet someone special, someone whose very existence would heal my broken mind. I have spent my entire life sleepwalking through the days, patiently waiting for that single moment. It is my one and only reason to keep drawing breath.

"Yurika!"

I blinked slowly, pulling myself out of my monochrome thoughts. Midori, my one and only friend, was bounding down the hallway toward me. Her eyes were wide, practically sparkling with an annoying amount of excess energy.

"What?" I asked, my voice flat, devoid of any inflection.

"Do you know... there is a new boy transferring to our school today!" Midori squealed, grabbing my arm and shaking it. "I saw him at the office! I totally believe he is your type, bestie!"

"Why would I care?" I replied blankly, staring through her rather than at her.
Midori released my arm and let out an exaggerated groan of frustration, throwing her head back. "Seriously! Why are you always like this? You're like a robot! Remember, I'm your only friend. What if I just disappeared one day? Who would you talk to?"

"Jeez. Don't say that, Midori," I said, though my face remained an emotionless mask. "I'm going to head to class now."
"Alright, bestie! See you at lunch!" she called out, already distracted by something else down the hall.
I turned and began to walk away, keeping my eyes glued to the scuffed linoleum floor. One step. Two steps. Three

Thud.

I collided hard with a solid figure walking around the corner. The impact knocked the breath out of me, and I tumbled backward, hitting the floor. My books scattered.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, let me help you," a voice said.

It was a boy's voice. Gentle. Apologetic.
A hand reached down into my field of vision. Without thinking, I reached up and placed my hand in his.

And then... the world exploded.
The moment our skin touched, a violent shockwave ripped through my chest. The endless, suffocating gray that had clouded my vision for sixteen years instantly shattered. It was as if I was opening my eyes for the very first time. I could see the vivid blue of the sky through the hallway window. I could feel the intense, rushing warmth in my fingertips spreading through my veins like wildfire.

I felt alive.

I looked up at his face. He was beautiful. He was the escape from the cold, dead world I had been trapped in. He was the cure. He was the one I had been waiting for my entire miserable life. The person I was destined to spend the rest of my life with.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his dark eyes looking at me with genuine concern.
"I'm... I'm fine," I stammered. For the first time in my life, I felt blood rush to my cheeks. A strange, unfamiliar heat. I was blushing.

"I'm Jokichi," he smiled, pulling me up to my feet.

"Thank you," I breathed, unable to look away from him.

"No problem at all! See you around," he said, giving me one last kind smile before turning and walking down the corridor.
I stood there, paralyzed, my hand still tingling from his touch. I watched him walk away, drinking in every detail of him. The way his hair fell. The way he walked. He was mine. He had to be mine.
But then, the warmth in my chest suddenly curdled into something ugly and sharp.

A girl with bright, bouncy hair intercepted him by the lockers. She stepped far too close to him. She laughed, tossing her head back, and lightly slapped his arm. She was looking at him with hungry eyes. She wanted him. But she didn't want him the way I wanted him. She didn't need him to breathe.
She kept talking to Jokichi, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. Jokichi laughed politely at whatever stupid thing she had just said.

A new, entirely foreign emotion erupted violently in the pit of my stomach. My vision tunneled. My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms, nearly drawing blood. A dark, possessive rage boiled over inside me, hotter and crazier than anything I could have ever imagined.

She is in my way, a dark voice whispered in my mind. And she has to go.