Ryunosuke Uryu considered himself an artist.
He had an undying passion, an open-minded, optimistic outlook, and boundless curiosity and thirst for knowledge. The only thing that troubled him was society's prejudice.
The art he pursued was death, and his fervor for it was extraordinary. After all, bloody, violent movies never seemed to lose their popularity as entertainment.
But didn't everyone find that too monotonous? Peeking at fictional death from a safe distance, then using reason to conquer that diminished fear?
From a very young age, Ryunosuke Uryu had been unusually sensitive to the distinction between real and fictional death. No matter how celebrated a fictional death might be, he could find no pleasure in it.
Death was something the living could never experience. Even when he prolonged the process as much as possible, it was utterly insignificant compared with the length of a human life and the world's population of more than six billion.
To experience the essence of death firsthand, to hear his victims' agonized, despairing screams before they died, Ryunosuke Uryu had become a serial killer.
Nothing let him understand a person better than bringing death with his own hands. Unlike the millions of other dead around the world, reduced to nothing but cold numbers, the deaths he brought had value. They were creation, transcendence-the art of death.
Lately, however, he had fallen prey to an artist's familiar affliction: waning passion.
He had even found a book at his family home, supposedly left by his ancestors, that recorded how to summon demons. But his first experiment had produced nothing, whether because he had failed to finish the magic circle or recited the incantation incorrectly.
Still, out of curiosity about the legend and faith in his ancestors, Ryunosuke Uryu intended to remain in Fuyuki City until the summoning period recorded in the book had ended.
Then, as though heaven had smiled on him, he met that man while taking a morning stroll and scouting for targets.
That quality of seeming to lack something, that indifference to everything, as though he existed outside society, that mechanical self-discipline without any desire to pursue anything-it was so cool!
Ryunosuke Uryu wondered whether the man's inner world would be as remarkable as his appearance. He wondered what kind of experience someone like that would offer when faced with death.
Would he be like those people who had feigned cold detachment in hopes of a quick death, only to burst into tears and beg frantically for mercy after a few more methods of torture?
Or would he gaze just as calmly at everything before him, watching pain and despair approach even in the face of death?
At the thought, Ryunosuke Uryu's creative urges surged.
So he eagerly extended an invitation.
"Roland, want to go somewhere for a drink after work?"
The man he asked did not respond. Roland leaned casually back in his chair, holding a pair of nail clippers and tending to his nails at an unhurried pace. His expression was so focused that he looked less like he was trimming his nails than defusing a bomb that might blow the place apart at any moment.
Only after clipping the last intact nail did he give a satisfied sigh and say, "No. I always go straight home after work, without fail."
Then, as though he had anticipated it, the manager called from outside that they could clock out the instant he finished clipping his nails.
Only then did a faint smile appear on Roland's face. He stood and promptly left.
"Just one drink... Roland!"
Like a lovesick puppy chasing his dream girl, Ryunosuke Uryu followed him out, but Roland did not even turn his head.
"Ah, so cold..."
Watching Roland walk away, Ryunosuke Uryu felt a little disappointed. The manager came over and spoke with the air of someone who had seen it all. "You'll get used to it. Roland's always been like that. He never causes anyone unnecessary trouble, so we shouldn't ask too much of him either."
"So that's his philosophy of life? Cool!"
Ryunosuke Uryu made up his mind. Taking a part-time job here had been the right choice after all. This man had far more value than those ordinary people.
He had to have Roland!
Ryunosuke Uryu resolved himself.
"What do you say, Uryu? If you're free tonight, want to come out for a drink with me?"
"I'd love to," Ryunosuke Uryu said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly, "but right now is the only free time I have today. I left a pile of chores undone last night, so I have to clean up today."
"Really? That's a shame. Another time, then."
After that practiced exchange of pleasantries, Ryunosuke Uryu left the convenience store as well.
In the shadows at the corner of a wall, a pair of cold eyes tracked Ryunosuke Uryu as he hummed to himself, looking carefree and utterly harmless.
A deranged serial killer has his eye on me? Good thing I'm one too, or I might actually have fallen into this guy's trap.
Unlike Kirei Kotomine, Ryunosuke Uryu was already a dangerous ticking time bomb. Nothing good could come of allowing someone like him to remain nearby.
To keep living in peace, Roland had to eliminate him.
With the help of Yoshikage Kira's experience, Roland followed Ryunosuke Uryu, keeping enough distance to avoid attracting anyone's attention.
Before long, the man arrived at a secluded house. He took out a ring of keys, fumbled through several of them, and opened the front door.
"I'm home!"
Ryunosuke Uryu called out enthusiastically, like a traveler returning home at last.
But no answer came from the dark room, where not even the lights were on. Ryunosuke Uryu felt around and flipped the switch, revealing a twisted creation made from two corpses standing in the middle of the living room.
"Ah, they were still alive this morning..."
At the sight, Ryunosuke Uryu sighed regretfully and began preparing for the arduous cleanup. Erasing unnecessary traces of himself as the artist, leaving only the pure work behind-that was the philosophy that had kept him beyond the law's reach for so long.
"I'll start by cleaning the tools," Ryunosuke Uryu muttered as he began carefully tidying up. Then he happened to lift his head and noticed a narrow gap at the front door, which should have been closed. An attractive hand gripped its other side, keeping it from shutting completely.
Ryunosuke Uryu felt as though he had plunged into an icy pit. A chill spread rapidly through his heart. He had not even noticed someone following him!
Since he had only switched on the living room lights, little light reached the entryway. It looked like a dark cavern with a wild beast lurking inside, a sight that inspired dread.
But Ryunosuke Uryu did not hesitate. He snatched up the bloodstained blade he had been about to clean and charged toward the entryway.
Whoever had come, he had to deal with them. To Ryunosuke Uryu, being locked in prison, unable even to wield his tools and create, was far more terrifying than death.
Like his beloved cheetah, his seemingly unremarkable body erupted with astonishing speed. In an instant, he reached the entryway. Then, like a certain artist he greatly admired, he found his throat mercilessly seized by fate.
Something invisible yet undeniably real gripped his throat and slowly lifted him off the floor. Ryunosuke Uryu struggled helplessly, his face turning blue. The grip was so strong that five distinct finger marks appeared on his neck.
What... is this?
No matter how wildly he slashed his blade, he could not hurt this invisible monster. With just one hand, it could effortlessly lift a strong, grown man like him.
Who could possibly control such a monster?
Before he lost consciousness, Ryunosuke Uryu frantically widened his eyes, trying to make out the figure behind the slowly opening front door.
Fortunately, the visitor made no attempt to hide himself. He spoke in the same cold, distant tone he had used at their first meeting.
"Hello, Uryu. I'm terribly sorry. You only helped me a few days ago, and here I am bothering you at home already."
Roland spoke slowly as he watched Ryunosuke Uryu dangling in midair, as though from a gallows.
"But unlike last time, what I want to do to you now is the same thing you want to do to me. So I imagine you have no complaints."
Then he ended the conversation with a smile, with no intention of hearing the other man's reply. Killer Queen raised his free hand and drove a clean knife-hand strike through Ryunosuke Uryu's heart.