Prologue — The Split Personality Serial Killer Wants to Live
Prologue.
To be perfectly honest, I'd expected this to be a life I could live gracefully.
A professorship at the Imperial Academy — a position anyone would envy — combined with a face so absurdly well-made that it practically whispered its own praise at me every time I passed a mirror. Granted, I'd earned none of it through my own effort, but it was mine now, so who was I to complain?
"Hello, Professor!"
Students passing by would beam at me as they went.
"Yes, good morning to you, Sister."
I would simply bow my head, offer my greeting, and move along.
It was that kind of scene — fresh, bright, blooming. And it was that kind of daily life, so utterly peaceful, that I believed all I had to do was soak it in and enjoy.
[So when are you planning to go kill again, Brother? It seems to me that it is about time.]
Ah.
Right up until that voice, forever ringing inside my skull, went and shattered my peace — that is.
"…Please. I told you to give me some time, didn't I?"
[Did you not make a promise at the outset? That you would come to me 'yourself' with someone worth killing.]
"Look, I did say that, but—"
I had said I would find them myself. In my rush to put out the fire right in front of me, I'd made a deal that essentially amounted to laying a Death Note on my own lap.
Still, what could I do? I was nothing more than a tenant squatting like a parasite in the body's rightful owner — rebellion wasn't exactly on the table. The problem was that the landlord happened to be a serial killer.
So, yeah.
Tenant that I was, if the landlord says jump, I jump. What business does a guy who possessed a murderer's body have making demands, anyway?
God, you inconveniently diligent psychopath.
[I can hear your inner thoughts as well, Brother.]
…
Yeah, well. You were meant to hear that one.