About

The day I committed my first murder. I remember that day vividly. Because that day was the starting point of our connection. My father was a complete lunatic. He beat his wife to death like a dog and was the kind of bastard who intended 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 took out the beatings she got from him on me. I guess they were two of a kind. 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. It was obvious I was next. And so, when my father finally started laying hands on 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 me was you. You, my sun and my light. You came to me to collect a debt my parents owed, but you looked troubled, as if you felt sorry for me, and then you just turned to leave, saying it was fine. Hmm? What, you're just leaving? Just as that thought crossed my mind, you came back. Ah, of course. Just as I let out a small sigh, thinking 'I knew it'—. ... 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... kind of person is this? But 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 to speak. "Excuse me, I want to pay back that debt. I don't have 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.