The Pure White Demon

Deep inside the castle, in the dressing room.

Snow-white hair, gentle features, and tenderness hidden in his eyes and brows.

A beauty mark beneath his right eye added a touch of allure.

A high nose bridge and handsome face.

Gentle and graceful.

The corners of his lips lifted in a perfectly measured smile.

Noble and elegant.

A white Lolita dress, wrapped in layer upon layer of fabric.

Black leather boots, with long, slender legs encased in black stockings.

A white rose blossomed atop his silk gloves.

Beautiful and captivating.

A young lady from an aristocratic family.

That was what she ought to look like, wasn't it?

No, perhaps he needed a little something more.

For example...

Those gentle yet keen eyes.

Like a sword that could pierce through specters.

Straight into the heart.

The pride unique to nobility hid between his brows.

No matter how gentle he seemed, no one would mistake him for a meek, easy target.

His blood-red eyes shimmered.

Like a garden of red roses that had bloomed for ages.

Or like a blood-filled pool in the endless abyss of hell.

Perhaps they held an unknown, fragrant beauty.

Perhaps, deep within, they reflected the sight of corpses and shattered bones, enough to make one's skin crawl.

But no matter what, you would be drawn to this pure, proud white rose.

Even if his entire body bristled with thorns.

Even if you were left bleeding and broken, you still couldn't help trying to pluck this proud bloom from the highlands.

"Ah! Look, look! I told you so, didn't I? Just look at how beautiful my little Coleman is!"

Mom Kikyo's electronic eyes flashed nonstop, her excitement impossible to hide.

What a beautiful child!

What a treasure to keep locked away in a gilded cage.

So pretty.

Pretty enough to make you want to destroy him.

Kikyo couldn't resist giving her child a big hug.

"Sweetie, you're just too beautiful! How about dressing like this whenever you go out from now on?"

As though she wanted to show off her treasure, she couldn't resist the urge.

This was her child. How perfect!

Held tightly in her arms, Coleman narrowed his eyes.

He basked in the warmth of his mother's embrace.

Even if it hurt a little.

Kikyo was still quite strong, and her hug made the child ache.

But Coleman took that pain as a sign of his mother's love.

Painful yet blissful.

Coleman reached out, wrapped his arms around his mother, and patted her back. After a moment's thought, he smiled and spoke.

"But if I do that, other people will get to see me dressed like this, Mom. You don't mind?"

His voice was clear, yet unmistakably a girl's.

Higher than a boy's, but very pleasant to hear.

Like a lark perched on a branch.

Chirping away without ever becoming annoying.

Kikyo suddenly pushed Coleman away and stared at her younger son in astonishment.

When had little Coleman learned to change his voice?

But the thought lasted less than a second before she tossed it aside.

As expected of her son!

Her voice shrill and rising, Kikyo cried out, "Honey! Honey! Come look!"

She pulled Coleman back into her arms, exhilarated and excited.

"My little Coleman is so clever! Mommy's so excited!"

Then she remembered what Coleman had just said. Her voice grew quieter, though it was still shrill.

"Then from now on, you can only wear this for Mommy. You can't wear clothes like this outside whenever you want. Of course, if the mission calls for it..."

She didn't finish. A strange possessiveness swallowed her whole.

She didn't want anyone else to see Coleman like this.

A beautiful sight ought to be enjoyed alone.

Coleman smiled, gentle and ladylike.

"Okay, Mom."

As he spoke, he rubbed his cheek against Kikyo's hand.

"I love you the most, Mom."

Perhaps those words had awakened her maternal instincts. Or perhaps they had satisfied her possessiveness.

For the first time, Kikyo smiled so tenderly.

"Mom loves you too, Coleman."

There was no "most" in her words.

Coleman felt a little dissatisfied.

But then he remembered his brothers.

And let it go.

Mom wasn't Coleman's alone, so she had to share her love.

Still, she had said she loved him.

That thought made Coleman very happy.

He carefully nestled into Kikyo's arms.

And cuddled.

Without a shred of shame.

Even though he'd already lived for thirty years in his previous life.

He was still acting like a little kid.

Mother and son were enjoying a rare moment of tenderness.

Unfortunately, an uninvited guest arrived.

Almost simultaneously, mother and son turned to look beside them.

But the assassin was faster than either of them.

A short blade came slashing toward them at an awkward angle.

Instinctively, Coleman pulled his mother behind him, taking care to keep Kikyo from falling and hurting herself.

He stepped forward and reached out.

He caught the short blade in his hand.

Blood splattered everywhere.

Drops landed on his snow-white dress.

The blade seemed to have plunged into a muddy swamp, stuck and unable to move.

Coleman looked at the intruder, tilted his head, and lowered his gaze.

When he spotted the bloodstain, his pupils shrank.

He licked his lips.

"It's dirty."

His voice was hoarse, with a trace of eeriness.

It was hard to tell whether he was angry, but anyone could sense how dangerous he was now.

His eyes shifted, settling on the attacker.

He smiled.

A blood-red tongue slipped between his lips, licking away the blood splashed at the corner of his mouth.

"Sweet."

He savored the taste, then slowly gave his verdict.

The attacker was drenched in sweat. He tried to yank out the short blade, only to find it wouldn't budge!

He wanted to abandon it, but knew it was already too late.

His mind raced, then settled on one thought.

If he couldn't get away, he might as well switch targets.

With that in mind, he stopped pulling and instead used the force of his motion to thrust the blade toward Coleman.

Unfortunately, Coleman had been a killer himself and saw through the attacker's foolish plan.

Turning his opponent's move against him, Coleman relaxed his grip and let the short blade slide farther in with the attacker's momentum.

He turned slightly and pulled the man toward him.

Just as the attacker was dragged helplessly to Coleman's side,

Coleman chuckled and whispered in his ear,

"Oh? You're giving yourself to me, too?"

He let go of the short blade and tensed his fingers.

With a soft squelch, he extended his nails and plunged them into the man's body.

Cruel and mischievous.

He even turned his head and asked, "Does it hurt?"

The man couldn't answer.

The sharp stabbing pain left him speechless.

"So I guess it doesn't hurt."

Coleman answered his own question.

He pulled his hand free, made a fist, and punched the man in the stomach.

The attacker's body leaned back slightly with the momentum.

And just then, Coleman's expressionless face, he plunged his hand into his enemy again.

Over and over—a cycle of one, two, three times.

Yet he showed remarkable restraint. Not one wound was fatal enough to kill the man.

"That's enough, Coleman."

Kikyo had recovered. Realizing her son was taking his anger out on the intruder, she called for him to stop.

At this rate, not only the dress but even the leather boots would be ruined.

It wasn't that she felt sorry for the clothes.

Coleman really did look stunning in them.

Kikyo wanted to keep the outfit.

"But, Mom, he got the dress dirty."

At his mother's words, Coleman obediently stopped. He flung the man three or four meters away, blinked, and wore an utterly innocent expression.

Like an ordinary little girl who'd accidentally gotten her dress dirty.

The blood from the one-sided beating had stained most of the pure white dress.

Drops of blood flowed down the hem and onto the floor.

Drip.

Drip.

Blood had splattered across his fair cheeks.

A few strands of hair were stained red.

His eyes were hollow, as lifeless as the dead.

But Kikyo could see the anger and resentment hidden inside them.

As though he were blaming the man for getting his dress dirty.

Kikyo took a handkerchief and wiped Coleman's face.

Bit by bit, she cleaned away the blood.

"If it gets dirty, just throw it away and buy another one. Don't dirty your hands over trash."

She spoke lightly, her hand moving gently.

He didn't spare the attacker so much as a glance.

Footsteps sounded outside the door. The servants arrived in a hurry.

"Sorry, Madam..."

Before he could finish, Kikyo raised a hand to stop him.

She waved, as if issuing an order.

The man at the head of the group nodded and gestured. They dragged the half-dead attacker away.

"Master is dealing with the other intruders. He'll be here shortly."

Pushing up his glasses, the butler Gotoh spoke softly.

"Mm. Bring the first-aid kit."

Kikyo showed little reaction as she cleaned the blood from Coleman.

"Young Master Coleman..."

Hearing his name, Coleman turned around.

His eyes had returned to their usual lively state.

He smiled as he spoke.

"I just got nicked by a blade. It's nothing."

As he spoke, he raised his uninjured hand.

The next moment, Kikyo pulled him back.

"Mom..."

He blinked and tilted his head, looking at her in confusion.

Then, realizing something, he grew flustered. "Mom, I—I didn't mean to. It's just, he was going to hurt you, so I... I... I'm sorry."

He stumbled over his explanation, his voice growing quieter and more dejected as he went on.

A child of the Zoldyck Family shouldn't get hurt because of trash like that.

But in the heat of the moment, Coleman had instinctively chosen the most frightening and intimidating method.

After all, no ordinary person would provoke a madman.

Especially one who felt no pain and didn't fear death.

But... was Mom angry?

No. She couldn't be angry with him!

He couldn't let Mom stop loving him.

Uneasy and afraid, Coleman instinctively clutched the hem of Kikyo's skirt.

Kikyo fell silent. Looking at Coleman's anxious expression, she belatedly realized what had happened.

Her expression just now must have frightened her obedient younger son.

She smiled. "It's all right. Coleman didn't do anything wrong, so why apologize?"

She ruffled his hair and spoke gently. "But you got hurt, Coleman, so you'll have to accept your punishment obediently."

Obedient as ever, Coleman felt the warmth of his mother's hand and his heart warmed again.

It was all right as long as Mom wasn't angry.

"Okay. I'll accept my punishment like a good boy."

He nodded and obediently agreed.

He was unbelievably well-behaved.

"Gotoh, take Young Master downstairs and bandage his wound."

She issued the order calmly, yet hurried out, as if impatient to leave—or burning with rage.

The butler Gotoh lowered his head. "Yes, Madam. Master has taken the captured intruders to the dungeon, on the third underground level."

There was no reply. Only the clack of high heels against the floor could be heard.

Urgent. Hasty.

Gotoh stood quietly for a moment. Only after Kikyo had left did he walk slowly over to the young master, who was still standing where he was.

With practiced ease, he picked the boy up.

"Mom isn't angry with me, right?"

The young master's voice was a plaintive whisper by his ear, but Gotoh didn't stop walking.

"Madam is angry, Young Master Coleman."

"Mm..."

Was Mom still angry with him?

His grievance spilled out like water from a burst balloon.

Coleman's eyes reddened. He didn't know how to soothe an angry mother.

"But she's angry with that bunch of vermin. It has nothing to do with you, Young Master."

Gotoh added the words at an unhurried pace, never breaking stride as he headed for the infirmary.

"..."

"Madam is angry that they dared hurt her precious treasure. So, in a way, it does have a little to do with you."

Naturally dark-humored, Gotoh enjoyed harmless jokes.

He comforted the young master in his arms in his own way.

As a butler, he naturally had a duty to understand the temperament of each member of the household.

That included Young Master Coleman, of course.

Though Gotoh hadn't seen Coleman many times,

he could still sense how dependent the boy was on Kikyo—or rather, on the very idea of a mother.

He obeyed her without question and followed her without question.

He might not even listen to his own father, the head of the family.

But he was utterly obedient to his mother.

The word "Mom" seemed to hold a special meaning for the young master, one that would never fade.

If Young Master Coleman ever went mad, like a rabid dog,

the only person who could stop him would be Kikyo.

His mother—one of the only two people he believed in.

And the other, without a doubt, was the young master's older brother.

Illumi Zoldyck.

A boy still young in years, yet feared by many assassins.

Gotoh felt a pang of emotion, but showed not a trace of it.

He kept walking.

Along the dark corridor, toward the one patch of light.

Twins.

Each other's chains,

and each holding the key to the other's freedom.

Perhaps that was what fate meant.