77
Masanori
Masanori didn’t know how many times he stabbed Aihi, his beloved sister. Or how many times she came back to life, reanimated only to mutter her despair: how he would always win.
She begged for mercy each time she reanimated. Always with that false innocent voice. She wasn’t innocent. She was a murderer, and now so was he.
Masanori plunged the glass into her again, praying that, this time, she would remain silent and unmoving.
His arms were in a perpetual tremble. No longer did he stab Aihi of his own accord. The wrath coursing through him at the Goddess’ betrayal had long slipped away with the blood on his arms. He couldn’t control his hands. He’d killed Aihi so many times he was locked in the motions, trapped to stab her over, and over, and over.
Aihi had murdered his mo
