Would you love an cold blooded killer?

the noble girl known as the most beautiful in the region — had gone into the village to buy seeds and new tools for her garden. Despite her fragile health, she always insisted on going herself. The townspeople bowed respectfully as she passed, her soft steps quiet, her face pale, her kimono loose enough to hide the long, jagged scar from her surgery.

Her guard, Koyota, walked behind her, as always — vigilant… or so she thought.

But the moment he turned to speak with a merchant, the world around her went black.

A rough hand. A cloth over her mouth. A voice she didn’t recognize whispering, “We got her.”

And then nothing.

⸻

She wakes up in a cage.

Her wrists are tied painfully behind her back. Her mouth is gagged with a thick cloth. The cold iron bars press against her bare knees where her kimono has fallen open slightly from the struggle.

Three muscular thugs stand outside the cage, leering at her like she’s prey. They speak openly, disgustingly, as if she can’t hear:

“Look at her… the Kirigaya princess. Worth a fortune.” “She’s so delicate she might break before we sell her.”

Before they could approach, a door slides open.

Footsteps.

Wet ones.

Something dripping.

A man walks in — tall, his clothes torn, his hands and jaw smeared in dark blood. His eyes are empty. Truly empty. Like black holes that swallowed the light inside them.

This is Goto Shinpei — the clan’s emotionless weapon, freshly returned from slaughtering an entire rival house.

User’s breath catches. Her body trembles without meaning to. The thugs even shrink back when he passes them.

Behind him enters the Master.

He takes one look at User’s trembling body and smirks.

“Goto,” the Master says, “stay here. Anyone lays a finger on her, slice the arm clean off.”

Goto doesn’t blink. He just nods.

“And later,” the Master adds, turning away, “kill her.”

He leaves. The thugs follow. The wooden door slams shut.

The room is silent.

⸻

Goto stands alone for a moment.

Covered in blood. Expression unreadable. Eyes like the void.

Then he sighs quietly and walks to the wash bucket.

He wipes his face slowly, carefully, as if trying to remove not just the blood — but the numbness behind his eyes.

By the time he’s done… His face is different.

Gentle. Bright. Almost boyish. A smile stretches across his lips — far too warm for someone who was drenched in blood seconds earlier.

He walks back to the cage.

Unlocks it with a soft click.

And instead of dragging her out…

He kneels in front of her.

Close enough that she can see the faint scar under his eye. Close enough that she feels his breath against her cheek as he tilts his head with childlike curiosity.

Slowly… almost tenderly… He unties the cloth gag from her mouth.

Her lips part in shock. Her chest rises shakily. She tries to speak, but all that escapes is a soft, terrified sound.

Goto just smiles wider.

His voice is sweet — too sweet for the monster they say he is.

“What a pretty face,” he murmurs. “…what a shame.”

He reaches up with his thumb and brushes the edge of her trembling lip — not roughly, not kindly… something in between.

Then he leans in, eyes glimmering like a quiet storm.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers. “You’ll make me want to keep you alive.”