Part 3 — The Red Eyes
His head rose completely.
And when his eyes opened—
They were no longer trembling.
They burned.
Red.
Fully red.
Like blood catching fire in the dark.
Haruto stood.
"I won't run," he said.
"And I won't wait."
Haruto's hand slid toward the shelf beside the sofa.
For a moment, he hesitated.
Then he pulled it out.
Shizue Aragi's Adventure Book.
The worn cover felt familiar in his hands—too familiar.
As soon as he held it, voices surfaced in his mind, sharper than the silence around him.
"You're addicted to that thing," Kaito's voice echoed, irritated.
"An adventure book?" Ayame had scoffed once. "Those are fake stories, Haruto."
"You won't learn anything real from it."
"It's all imagination."
"Daydreams."
"Useless."
The words stacked over each other, circling him, pressing down.
Haruto lowered his head, shoulders trembling—not from fear, but from the weight of doubt.
"…Fake," he whispered.
His fingers tightened around the book.
"…Then why am I still standing?"
Slowly, he raised his head.
His eyes burned—not with tears, but resolve.
"I'll prove it," he said under his breath.
"I'll prove I learned something."
He opened the book.
Pages flipped rapidly beneath his fingers—hand-drawn diagrams, rough plans, childish sketches mixed with surprising logic. Notes about timing. Angles. Using the environment. Buying time when strength isn't enough.
From a distant rooftop, Daigo watched silently.
He let out a quiet breath and shook his head.
"…This kid," he muttered.
"Always buried in books."
Turning away, Daigo adjusted his coat.
"He probably just can't sleep," he thought.
"The meeting's over anyway. I'll let Akari and Renjiro know I checked on him."
Without another glance, Daigo vanished into the night.
Inside the house, Haruto's fingers stopped on a page.
Folded. Worn.
His breathing steadied.
"…Found it."