11

Misaki Suzuki sat in the corner of the classroom, her gaze dark and sweeping over her classmates. The "friends" who once clustered around her had now scattered like startled birds, each finding an excuse to distance themselves. In the classroom, only she sat alone in the corner, as if isolated from the world.

Her hand gripped the pen on the desk tightly, her knuckles whitening from the force. Misaki Suzuki had always been the one standing in the spotlight, with everyone revolving around her. She relished the feeling of being surrounded, admired, and the sense of superiority that came with flaunting her family's status among her peers. Yet now, she had become a plague that everyone avoided.

The recent string of events troubled her deeply—several of her most loyal followers had died in rapid succession, their deaths so gruesome it sent chills down the spine. She had noticed the fear in her classmates' eyes when they looked at her, as if she were cursed, carrying a deathly aura that could spread to them at any moment.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a group of girls near the door, once her companions, now whispering among themselves, occasionally stealing glances her way before quickly averting their eyes. She could feel the unease and dread in their gazes, as if she had become a ticking time bomb. Clenching her teeth, anger overtook her fear. She could not accept that the very people who had once fawned over her were now abandoning her.

"Cowards," Misaki cursed inwardly, her brows furrowing. She had thought these people would always follow her, given that she had given them everything they wanted—money, status, protection. But now, with the shadow of death looming over her and her parents' divorce, these same people had fled like rats before a cat.

The air in the classroom seemed to thicken, and Misaki felt each breath grow heavier. Her gaze wandered over the empty seats, and a mixture of anger and unease churned within her. She had believed that with her background, everyone would continue to flock to her. Yet, the harsh reality was that all the "friendships" had been nothing more than a façade, sustained by her dominance. At the first sign of danger, these so-called friends crumbled.

Her anger swelled. Suddenly, she stood up, the chair scraping the floor with a sharp noise. The room fell silent, and her classmates looked at her in alarm. She scanned them coldly, her eyes blazing with a nearly maddened fury.

"You cowards," she hissed, her voice dripping with icy contempt.

A girl, who used to follow Misaki's every command, timidly stepped forward and said in a small voice, "Misaki, it's not that we don't want to stay by your side... It's just... things have been too eerie. Those who died were all your closest friends."

Misaki snapped her head toward the girl, her gaze as sharp as a blade. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she sized up the girl who dared to challenge her. "So what?" she asked, her voice cold and cutting, laced with an unassailable authority. "If it were truly related to me, why am I still alive?"

The girl immediately fell silent, her mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came out. She was silenced by Misaki's overbearing presence, her hands twisting nervously. The other students kept their heads down, not daring to respond.

Then, a thought crossed Misaki's mind, and a smug smile crept onto her face. "How about this," she said, her tone suddenly softening, with a hint of temptation. "Who wants to stay at my villa? The security system is top-notch. You'll be safe there, I guarantee it."

The classroom fell into a dead silence, but soon a few glances were exchanged. Her words were like a stone thrown into a still lake, causing ripples. Some of them began to waver. The fear that had distanced them from Misaki now clashed with the allure of safety and the benefits she could offer. Despite her parents' divorce, her mother had secured a vast fortune, including a villa equipped with a high-tech security system, which was undoubtedly a tempting offer.

Some were already considering the prospect of moving into Misaki's villa—not only would it provide safety, but they could also continue to enjoy the perks of her wealth. A few stole glances at her, their gazes a mixture of hesitation and calculation.

Misaki noticed their reactions and smirked inwardly. These people were predictable. She regarded them like a puppeteer with strings to pull, knowing that a little pressure and temptation would have them groveling at her feet once more.

"Think it over," Misaki taunted. "Stick with me, and you'll survive." Her tone was confident, as if the outcome were already decided. But deep down, a faint unease lingered in her heart.

Seeing some of the students still hesitating, Misaki decided to request a break from the school. The principal, though initially reluctant, couldn't afford to offend Misaki and grudgingly agreed, announcing the schoolwide "holiday."

"You should all come stay at my vacation villa," Misaki boasted to the group. "It was a birthday gift from my dad. The killer won't find us there."

Akira glanced up, and to her surprise, there was a trace of "nervousness" on his face.

"Misaki, is that place really safe?" Akira asked, looking slightly afraid.

"Don't be scared, Megumi," Misaki said with mock sweetness, enjoying Akira's timidity. "If you're that frightened, why don't you come stay with me? The villa is in a very remote location—the killer will never find us. And with the security system, nothing will happen to you."

Akira looked up at her, his eyes filled with gratitude and dependence. "Really? Misaki, I'm really scared… Will you really protect me?"

Misaki, feeling even more smug, patted Akira's shoulder with exaggerated generosity. "Of course," she said with condescension. "You're my friend. As long as you listen to me, nothing will happen to you."

Akira lowered his head, the corners of his lips curling into a barely perceptible smirk, though his voice still carried a note of fear. "Thank you, Misaki, I'll be obedient."

Misaki, engrossed in her sense of control over the situation, failed to notice the subtle change in Akira's eyes. Confidently, she announced, "Since everyone's on board, we'll set off tonight. But before we go, let me treat you all to dinner at a restaurant owned by one of my relatives."

Several girls cheered excitedly at the idea of a free luxurious meal. Akira, too, pretended to look eager, playing along with Misaki's boasts.

When they arrived at the restaurant, a large sign greeted them—"Ichiban-ya." As they stepped inside, a middle-aged man greeted them warmly, his face alight with excitement and joy, as if he had long awaited this moment.

"Misaki, here you are." Takumi's voice trembled with uncontainable excitement, and his smile barely concealed the emotion beneath, as if he had been yearning for this reunion.

Misaki's expression immediately froze upon seeing Takumi, then she put on a disdainful look. "Yeah, hurry and get us a table. I brought friends to eat," she said coldly, her gaze void of any familial warmth, her tone filled with disdain.

Takumi kept smiling, but Akira noticed the fleeting look of sadness in his eyes. He nodded and quickly ushered them to their seats, all the while saying with enthusiasm, "Order whatever you like, it's all on me!"

Akira quietly observed this scene, quickly piecing together the clues—Misaki's arrogance, Takumi's humble and emotional demeanor. It all clicked. The daughter Takumi had once mentioned was none other than Misaki Suzuki. The "relative" Misaki disdained was, in fact, her own father.

Back in the kitchen, Takumi worked with a distracted air, his gaze frequently wandering out to the dining area where Misaki sat. His eyes were filled with tenderness and patience—the gaze of a father who had been separated for far too long, cherishing every moment of seeing his child, no matter how distant she seemed.

He watched as Misaki commanded the table, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Despite her cold and distant attitude, even her outright disdain, he remained by her side without complaint, content to simply watch over her.

The kitchen filled with the aroma of food, but Takumi's gaze never left her. Even a fleeting glance, no matter how cold and dismissive, was enough for him to immerse himself in a moment of warmth. He had never shared this with anyone, never expected her to notice his attention, only silently keeping watch in the heavy shadow of his fatherly love.

Takumi, distracted, unconsciously slowed down his work. The dish, which should have been prepared quickly, now seemed to drag on in his hands. Smoke began to rise from the oil in the pan, and the aroma of the vegetables took on a burnt edge, but Takumi remained too preoccupied to notice. Misaki Suzuki's impatience was becoming more and more obvious. Her fingers tapped restlessly on the table, and her gaze frequently darted toward the kitchen.

"Why is the food taking so long? What's going on? Do you people not want to work anymore?" Her cutting sarcasm, laced with obvious anger, rose several decibels, piercing through the restaurant's din. Several waitstaff stood nearby, nodding nervously, too afraid to respond.

Hearing her voice from the kitchen, Takumi trembled slightly. He looked up and saw Misaki's furious expression, his heart tightening. Though he knew the delay in preparing the food wasn't intentional, her growing dissatisfaction left him feeling deeply uncomfortable and guilty. He hurried his movements, rushing the dish to the table in hopes of appeasing Misaki's anger.

"I'm sorry, Misaki. I was too slow," Takumi said with a hint of panic and apology in his voice as he brought out the final dish, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

Misaki waved her hand in disgust, her tone full of disdain. "Forget it. The taste is passable at best."

One of the girls at the table immediately leaned over to Misaki, whispering, "Misaki, I didn't realize your relative owns Ichiban-ya. That's impressive." Another girl quickly nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it's so hard to get a meal here. You're so generous, Misaki."

Misaki snorted with satisfaction, her expression one of self-assurance, clearly pleased with their flattery. "Of course. Which one of my relatives isn't impressive? Just enjoy yourselves. Tonight's on me."

Akira, sitting quietly with his head down, silently ate his food, his expression darkening as the disgust and disdain in his heart continued to grow.

After dinner, Misaki led the group to a private room. While the others were distracted, Takumi quietly pulled Akira aside, lowering his voice as he spoke. "Akira, I'm really happy to see Misaki come to the restaurant. Even though she refuses to acknowledge me as her father in front of others, just being able to see her, to take care of her, is enough for me." His tone was filled with humility and pleading. "I've never asked anyone for anything, but Akira, I beg you, when I'm not around, please take care of Misaki for me."

Akira looked at the man whose face was lined with wrinkles, his eyes filled with longing, and replied flatly, "There are plenty of people looking after your daughter. I'm not needed."

Hearing this, a flicker of disappointment crossed Takumi's eyes, but he sighed helplessly. "In any case, thank you, Akira. Misaki is lucky to have a friend like you. As long as you two get along, I'll be relieved."

Takumi understood Misaki's temperament well and knew of Akira's coldness. It was obvious he could see through the situation. Deep down, he realized that Akira couldn't possibly have a genuine friendship with Misaki, though he cared deeply for both of them. Akira remained silent, his face hidden in shadow, making his expression unreadable. Takumi patted Akira on the shoulder, sighed softly, and turned to leave.

When Akira returned to the private room, Misaki was laughing and chatting with the others, completely unaware of the conversation between him and Takumi. She glanced at Akira, her eyes filled with a mixture of condescension and a mocking smirk.

"Akira, come over here and sit down. What do you think of my relative's restaurant? Have you ever tasted anything so delicious?"

Akira sat down silently, his face expressionless as he nodded. Inside, however, he was growing increasingly weary of the charade. As he looked at Misaki's smug, self-satisfied face, something dark was brewing within him.