Nighttime.
Rina climbed off the living room sofa, her bare feet pressing against the floor….
She had just finished bathing with the kidnapper, her silver-white hair still half-damp and clinging to her cheeks.
She was still wearing that cream-colored silk slip nightgown, the hem swaying back and forth just above her knees.
“Ice cream cake~ Ice cream cake~”
She muttered under her breath, bouncing her way through the corridor toward the kitchen.
The kitchen light was off, only the warm yellow glow from the living room spreading a thin layer of light across the countertop.
That massive double-door refrigerator stood in the corner of the kitchen, its silver-gray metal panels gleaming coldly in the dimness.
Rina stood in front of the fridge, gripping the handle of the fresh food compartment with both hands, and yanked it open.
“Phew~”
Cold white mist surged from the gap, washing over her face.
She squinted, standing on her tiptoes to look at the upper shelf.
Dozens of dark glass bottles were lined up neatly on the shelf, their mouths sealed with uniform bright red caps, row after row, layer after layer…
But Rina’s gaze skipped right past those bottles.
She saw the cake.
A white round paper box with a silver logo printed on it from the dessert shop, sitting at the edge of the top shelf.
The box was squeezed slightly crooked by other things, but if she stood on her tiptoes, reached out her fingers, and nudged it with a little force, she should be able to get it down.
“I see it, I see it…”
Rina stood on her tiptoes, her right hand gripping the fridge door edge for balance, her left hand stretching up as far as it could go.
Her fingers could just barely reach the bottom edge of the paper box, but not steadily—her fingertips could only graze one corner of the box.
She bit her lower lip, hopped upward, and her fingertips nudged the box out by less than a centimeter.
“Just a little more…”
She hopped again.
The box shifted outward a bit more.
She hopped again… This time the movement was bigger, her entire upper body bumping against the edge of the shelf.
The box finally came loose, sliding off the shelf and landing in her arms.
Rina hugged the cake box and stepped back, a triumphant smile just spreading across her face… then she heard another sound.
The sound of a glass bottle clinking against the metal shelf edge.
Then the sound of the bottle sliding off the shelf.
Then the sound of it shattering against the marble floor tiles.
“Crash~!”
Deep red liquid burst across the kitchen floor.
Shards of broken glass scattered everywhere, a few pieces sliding up to Rina’s bare feet.
Liquid splashed onto her pale ankles, standing out vividly…
Rina hugged the cake box, looking down at the red liquid slowly spreading outward at her feet.
It glimmered dully under the warm yellow light, not as thin as water—much thicker than water—creeping rather than flowing across the tiles.
A heavy metallic scent surged up from the floor, spreading, wrapped in a sweet and bloody aroma, filling the entire kitchen.
An overwhelmingly strong iron-rust smell, so potent that Rina instinctively wrinkled her nose.
She hugged the cake box and crouched down.
The cake was still safe in her arms; a little of the splashed liquid had gotten on the paper box, but not much.
She set the cake down on the ground beside her, then looked at the puddle of liquid still spreading on the floor.
Glass shards were scattered around…
Rina crouched at the edge of the mess, tilting her head and staring for a good long while, then extended her right index finger and touched the liquid with her fingertip.
The texture was different from water—a bit thicker.
She raised her finger to her eyes, and under the warm yellow light, the liquid dripped down her fingertip, leaving a dark red trail.
She brought it closer and sniffed… The metallic smell hit her nostrils directly, so intense it made her scalp tingle.
“What is this thing…”
Before she could finish, the kitchen light flicked on.
Rina whipped her head around.
Hisaki stood at the kitchen doorway, her gaze landing first on Shiro… crouched on the ground, right index finger stained with red liquid, a few drops splattered on the hem of her nightgown.
Then her gaze shifted to the puddle of liquid spreading across the floor, and the broken glass scattered everywhere.
Her dark red pupils contracted slightly under the light, then relaxed.
Hisaki let out a sigh.
She wasn’t angry, didn’t frown—she just walked closer, stepped around the broken glass and liquid on the floor, bent down, and scooped Shiro up off the ground.
Rina’s hand was still coated with that sticky red liquid, and the moment her body left the ground she quickly raised that hand high, afraid of smearing it on the kidnapper.
“Kidnapper,”
Her voice carried confusion, and a bit of guilt from making a mess of the kitchen.
“What’s that red stuff? Why are there so many bottles in the fridge… is it red wine?”
Hisaki didn’t answer, just carried her out of the kitchen, through the corridor, and back to the living room.
She set Shiro down gently on the sofa, pulled over the hand Shiro had been holding up, grabbed a wet wipe from the coffee table, wrapped it around Shiro’s liquid-stained index finger, and began wiping it carefully.
“Did you get the ice cream cake?”
Hisaki asked, her tone as gentle as always.
“Got it!”
Rina pointed toward the kitchen with her other hand.
“It’s on the kitchen floor, the paper box got a little of that red stuff on it…”
“I’ll bring it over in a bit.”
Hisaki raised the cleaned index finger to her eyes to inspect it, confirmed there was no residue, then crumpled the wet wipe into a ball and tossed it into the trash can.
“If Shiro wants cake, you can just ask me to help grab it. It’s placed so high up—what if something falls on you? That’s dangerous.”
Rina knew she was in the wrong, shrunk her neck, and muttered an “Oh… got it…”
Then her mind drifted right back to that red liquid.
She watched the kidnapper turn and walk toward the kitchen, tilting her head and mulling it over.
Red wine?
Definitely not.
Concentrated juice?
No juice looks like that.
Strawberry jam?
Strawberry jam wouldn’t be stored in bottles, and strawberry jam doesn’t smell like rust.
She mentally compared the dozens of bottles of red liquid in the fridge against the kidnapper’s usual strange behaviors, one by one.
The kidnapper doesn’t eat human food. The kidnapper goes to the kitchen for a while every time after eating with her.
The kidnapper’s complexion and lip color turn rosier after coming out of the kitchen. The kidnapper’s teeth seem sharper than a normal person’s. The kidnapper walks without making a sound…
Rina thought about it.
Then she tossed the thought out of her head.
“Like that could ever be true.”
She threw herself onto the sofa, buried her face in a cushion and rubbed against it, then flipped over and stared at the ceiling.
“That’s way too fantastical.”
The kidnapper is some kind of blood-drinking vampire?
Every one of those bottles of red liquid is blood?
Every time she goes to the kitchen, she’s secretly drinking blood?
That’s why she’s so strong, why she walks without sound, why her body is so cold?
No way, that kind of setting only exists in the manga and anime she follows.
Rina rolled over, buried her face in the cushion, and let out a muffled laugh at her own wild imagination.
Reality isn’t a fantasy novel—there’s no such thing as vampires.
She closed her eyes, ready to wait for the kidnapper to bring the cake over.
Then she suddenly thought of something else.
The System.
How long had it been since the System spoke?
Ever since she snapped back at it with “Try striking me if you dare,” that annoying notification sound seemed to have vanished completely.
Rina took the cushion off her face, her sky-blue eyes fixed on the ceiling, her brow slightly furrowed.
“Something’s off…”
She murmured to herself.
“Is it plotting something big?”