Yukie grew more confused. "What do you mean? That doesn’t make sense."

"Do you think it makes sense that I, as a child who hadn’t even awakened yet, killed humanity’s strongest Hunter?" I countered.

Yukie fell silent. That was true. At the time of the incident, Adam was still a child. Not yet awakened. There was no way he could have defeated the Sword Saint, the most powerful Hunter ever, in a direct fight.

But she’d seen it with her own eyes. She saw Adam kill her father with his own hands. That wasn’t an illusion. That wasn’t a dream. That was real.

I began telling her everything.

"It was nighttime. I’d just woken up, still half-asleep. My father suddenly came to my room and gave me his sword. Heavenbreaker. You know that legendary sword, right? The one with only one ability—it could cut through anything it slashed."

Yukie nodded slowly. Everyone knew about Heavenbreaker. The most powerful sword ever created.

"My father told me to try it," I continued, my voice beginning to tremble. "He told me to slash forward with my eyes closed. I obeyed. I closed my eyes, raised the sword, and slashed with all my strength."

I paused, drawing a breath.

"I didn’t even realize at that moment that I had cut my father standing before me. Before that, he was clearly beside me. But when I opened my eyes..."

My voice cracked. Without realizing it, emotions began to overflow.

"He was lying on the floor with his chest split open. Blood everywhere. I was holding the sword still dripping with his blood. My own father’s blood."

Yukie stared at me. Her expression began to shift.

"For a while, I thought it was my fault. Maybe because I’d just woken up, maybe because my eyes were still sleepy, I slashed in the wrong direction. But... someone like my father. The strongest Hunter. The Sword Saint. He could have easily dodged a child’s slash like that."

"Why did he do that to me?" I asked, more to myself than to Yukie. "Why did he tell me to kill him? Why didn’t he tell me anything? Why did I have to become my own father’s executioner?"

I stared sharply at Yukie.

"I don’t know. I’m still wondering to this day. Why did he do that? Why?"

The room fell silent, feeling far quieter than before. I hadn’t realized I’d poured out all my emotions. Anger, confusion, sadness, guilt—everything spilled out uncontrollably.

Before me, Yukie stood motionless.

Her expression... shattered.

For the first time in my life, I could see Yukie’s expression truly shatter. Her usually cold, emotionless face was now filled with something she couldn’t hide. It wasn’t like when she raged in Delilah’s memory, or when she cried back then because I couldn’t answer her question.

This time I saw it clearly, right before my eyes.

Her pale white eyes glistened. Her eyebrows trembled. Her thin lips parted slightly, as if wanting to say something but unable to. And her eyes quivered with gathering tears.

"A... Adam..."

Her voice trembled. For the first time, Yukie’s voice trembled.

"You... you must be lying..."

"I have no reason to lie, Yukie."

My voice trembled too, but I tried to control it. I stared into her glistening eyes.

"Do you think I actually wanted to kill my own father? My father. The Sword Saint. The man I admired most since childhood."

I paused, taking a deep breath.

"You must have noticed, right? Back when we were kids. When we used to play together. You saw for yourself how I looked at my father. How I always talked about him, about how great he was, about how I wanted to be like him someday."

Yukie couldn’t answer. Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out.

"He was the person I loved most in this world," I continued, my voice growing heavier. "He was my hero. My idol. The only person I was always proud of. How could I bear to kill him? How could I possibly want to do that?"

I took a breath, trying to hold back the overwhelming emotions.

"Do you know how much I suffered when I found out I had unknowingly killed my own father?"

My voice broke on the last words.

"I was still a child, Yukie. I was still a kid who didn’t understand anything. I woke up in the middle of the night, my father gave me a sword, told me to slash with my eyes closed, and when I opened them... he was already lying on the floor with blood everywhere."

My tears began to flow. I couldn’t hold them back anymore.

"I wanted to forget all of that, Yukie. I didn’t want to remember because it was so painful. Every time I think of his face, every time I think of his blood on my hands, it feels like something is tearing my heart apart."

I stared sharply at Yukie.

"You think you suffered the most from his death? You think you’re the only one who lost someone?"

I shook my head slowly.

"I’m the one who suffered most, Yukie. I lost my father. I lost my hero. And I have to live knowing that I was the cause. That my own hands killed him."

Yukie remained silent. But in her eyes, tears began to gather. Slowly, a drop fell down her pale cheek.

I reached out my hand, brushing through her disheveled short white hair that partially covered her face. My fingers touched her cold skin, feeling the wetness of tears there.

Then I brought my face close to hers. Just inches apart. My warm breath meeting her cold breath.

"And you made all of that worse, Yukie."

My voice was low, but heavy with pressure.

"Without knowing what really happened, you kept torturing me. You forced me to remember the most painful memories of my life. You kept picking at wounds that hadn’t healed, every day, every week, every month, for over two years."

Yukie couldn’t speak. Her tears kept flowing.

"Do you know how broken I was? Do you know what was happening inside me during those two years?"

I drew a breath, trying to calm myself, but couldn’t.

"Every day you tortured me. You flayed my skin with your ice. You stripped me naked in public. You made me dance naked while being recorded and spread across the internet. You made me lick the floor, lick your shoes, humiliated me in front of everyone."

I stopped, breathless.

"And all of that for what?"

Yukie looked at me. A look completely different from before.

Not a look of contempt. Not a look of disgust. Not a look like I was garbage.

This was the look of someone who had just realized they’d made a terrible mistake. That they’d hurt an innocent person for two years. That all the suffering they’d inflicted on me—all the torture, all the humiliation, all the pain—had been done without just cause.

Inside her mind, Yukie was in turmoil.

Everything Adam said made sense. His uncontrolled tone, the flowing tears, the tremor in his voice—everything felt real. Felt honest. Except one thing: why did her father have to die by his hand? That was still a mystery. But she knew, she could feel, that Adam wasn’t lying.

Though a sliver of doubt remained in the corner of her mind, most of her already believed.

And with that belief, something inside her shattered.

All this time, she’d been torturing her innocent childhood friend. The only person besides her father who had ever cared about her. The only person who had ever made her feel warmth. And she’d destroyed him. Slowly, every day, for two years.

Yukie felt something crack inside her chest. Something that might be called a conscience. Something that had been buried beneath layers of icy hatred.

I saw the change in her face. Her continuously flowing tears. And for the first time, I saw Yukie cry clearly before my eyes—this wasn’t like when I saw her raging in Delilah’s memory, or back then when I nearly passed out from not being able to answer this question.

This time I saw it right before my eyes, and I felt a slight satisfaction.

I took a long breath, trying to calm myself. I realized I’d gotten too emotional telling all of that, too worked up. But after everything that happened, after two years of suffering, I had the right to be angry at her. I had the right to pour all of this out.

After a moment, I managed to calm down slightly. I looked at Yukie, still crying, her tears flowing slowly without stopping.

"You see, Yukie?" I said, my voice calmer now. "You’re the one who made me like this. You destroyed me."

I stroked her wet cheek.

"Everyone in this world seemed to want to destroy me. My father left me in the most painful way. My stepmother... I don’t even know what to say about her. Friends? I had none. Only people like Isabel, Alex, Maximus, and you—who kept torturing me, humiliating me, making me feel worthless."

I took a deep breath.

"So you know, right? Now you know that I have the right to repay all of you for what you’ve done. I have the right to make you feel what I felt."

Yukie looked at me. Her pale white eyes were wet with tears, but something still remained there—something that might be called regret.

"And for that," I continued, "you’ll pay for all your torture with your entire life, Yukie. You’ll belong to me. You’ll atone for all the pain you’ve inflicted on me. You’ll become my good, obedient daughter."

Yukie remained silent and didn’t resist. She didn’t give me a contemptuous look either. Only silence filled with tears.

Then, in a voice so soft it was almost inaudible, she spoke.

"Sorry."

Just one word. But from Yukie, that word was extraordinary. Especially because this time I was sure she truly meant it.

"I’m... sorry."

Her voice trembled, cracked, shattered. Her tears continued flowing without stopping.

"I didn’t know... I didn’t know that..."

She couldn’t finish her sentence.

I looked at her. The ice girl who had always been cold and emotionless, now sobbing before me. Her beautiful face wet with tears, her nose red, her lips trembling.

For a moment, I almost felt sorry for her.

But then I remembered all the torture she’d inflicted on me for two years. All the pain. All the humiliation. All the nights I cried alone in my room, wishing I could just die.

And that feeling of pity vanished.

I lifted her chin with one hand, forcing her to look at me.

"Sorry isn’t enough, Yukie." My voice was cold. "You’ll pay for all of that with your body. With your life. With everything."

Yukie didn’t fight back. She just looked at me with wet eyes, resigned.