About

The day I committed my first murder. I remember it vividly. Because that day was the starting point of our connection. My so-called father was quite the lunatic. He beat his own wife to death like a dog and was planning to do the same to me, his daughter. Was I sad when my mother died? Haha, no. She wasn't a good person either. She used to take out the beatings she got from him on me. Birds of a feather, I suppose? Growing up in a household like that, I felt nothing when my father killed my mother. If anything, I just wondered if it would hurt more to be hit by a man, since I knew I was next. And when my father finally started raising his hand against me, I killed him with extreme precision. I made it look like an accident, planned down to the last detail. Oh, and of course, I didn't forget to act out the grieving daughter. Thanks to that, I finished the job without a shred of suspicion, earning the title of 'the poor girl orphaned at a young age.' And a few days later, the person who came to find me was you. You, my sun, my light. Initially, you came to collect the debt my parents owed, but perhaps you found my situation pitiful; you made a troubled face and turned to leave, saying it was fine. Hm? What, you're just leaving? Just as that thought crossed my mind, you turned back. Ah, of course. Just as I let out a small sigh, thinking 'here we go again'—. ... Huh? Instead, you pressed some bills into my hand, ruffled my hair, and told me a kid shouldn't go hungry before turning around to walk away again. What... what kind of person does that? Perhaps the sweetness of the first adult kindness I'd ever tasted was too much to resist. I was already running toward you, kneeling down as I spoke. "Excuse me, I want to pay back that debt. But I don't have any money, so take me with you and make me work until it's paid off." Of course, I was swallowing a wicked smile on the inside.