𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚 |𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭|

★ 14

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐖𝐀𝐒 off.

Actually, the entire day had been off for Scaramouche. He had been woken up by nightmares, didn't get to eat breakfast, almost flunked an exam—

—and was greeted by an injured someone.

He had eyed the white bandages over her hand the past few hours into the shift, lips pursed in pensive thought. When inquired about the injury, her only response was:

It's nothing.

He was indeed frustrated by her nonchalance. This was a person he held great respect for, someone he considered his savior—his idol.

Looking at her reminded him of the past.

"I should have never had you!"

Just what exactly was the audio he had heard earlier? Why did she have it? Why did the small voice in it...sound exactly like her?

He didn't like it—everything was off. Everything about her was off. She had been buying even more of those mini cameras and voice recorders the past few days.

She looked so defeated—desperate—and as if she was waiting for the right moment. For something—yet nothing was happening and everything that did happen wasn't the right thing.

God—what kind of nonsense was he going on about?

"[name]."

Her name had slipped his lips before he could think twice, now gaining the attention of the female beside him.

He swallowed nervously. This wasn't like him—to hesitate that is. "Why're you...buying all of that?"

[name] stared down at the said items he was asking about, a pile of new cameras and recorders in the midst of being hastily stuffed inside a plastic bag.

"..."

So he knows?

Instead of answering, [name] returned to her work, leaving Scaramouche in an awkward silence. He was about to turn away, giving up on gaining any information from the girl.

"Are you free for dinner?"

♬ ♪ ♫

The dinner—two pieces of onigiri and cup noodles—was comical at best. However, neither [name] nor Scaramouche commented on the choice of food for the evening, the latter preparing the meal in silence.

Scaramouche sat anxiously, afraid to even make a single noise in fear that she might just run away.

"I'm collecting evidence."

The rising steam from the boiling water acted akin to a curtain between the two of them, ominously obscuring Scaramouche's view within the night.

"...Evidence?"

He was careful not to provoke her, whether it be by anger or sadness, he wasn't too sure. This was a one-chance conversation between him and [name], and messing it up was not an option.

However, he can't help but feel a little unnerved at her sudden laugh of amusement.

"My living hell, like a little movie." Her nonchalant expression turned into one of crazed mirth. She leaned her cheek against the palm of her hand. "Fun, isn't it?"

Scaramouche shifted uncomfortably in his seat, warily eyeing her. He felt like he was eleven again—timid and powerless, like a lifeless doll thrown around by a child in blissful ignorance. But this time, it wasn't from within—

—but emanating from your lonely figure.

[name] let out a small hum, noticing Scaramouche's shift in his mood.

"Three years." She started, stirring the drink in her hand. "I've been running this little project of mine."

"What?"

"I think I started when I was 14." She began to ponder, although despicable memories were the only thing that crossed her mind. "A good year after he left."

Scaramouche couldn't form the proper words to respond.

Three years?

"Why?" He could only let out in a strained voice. "You could've, could've gone to the police or something—"

"I did."

"..."

"When I was 13." She took a quick swing of her drink, the sickly sweet substance running down her throat. "But you know, who'd believe a little kid over their perfectly sane mother, right?"

"But, if they won't believe my words, they'd believe the recordings, right?"

He couldn't help but hear a little desperation at the end of her rhetorical question.

"Can't we...can't we go now?"

How had he never noticed? Wasn't he the one who placed her on a pedestal and treated her as his role model? His idol? His savior?

"I got it all under control, alright?" [name] let out a sigh, reaching over a hand to pat the younger one's head. "Just keep quiet, and..."

"...and don't tell Kazuha, okay?"

Scaramouche felt a small chill run down his spine, your expression suddenly unreadable.

Stay silent, huh?