Tokyo: Rabbit Officer and Her Evil Partner

Then, father came back. He heard the shouting and told Fushimi Roku to go to his room, then started arguing with mother.

As Fushimi Roku walked away, the argument followed him from behind. Mother kept repeating how embarrassed she was, while father kept pressuring her to quit her job. Even the nanny would avoid this path, turning the vast mansion into a furnace.

But at least he had enough to eat and drink.

Fushimi Roku climbed up the retractable ladder to the attic, returned to his room, and lay down on the bed.

By rights, he shouldn't be unhappy. His parents were right. At his age, he didn't worry about food or clothing. He had whatever he wanted, lived in a mansion in an upscale neighborhood, attended an international school — ordinary people would envy him. What right did he have to be unhappy?

But he wasn't happy at all, always feeling that these things had nothing to do with him.

Fushimi Roku lay on the bed, lost in wild thoughts for a long time.

Others only start to think about what they truly want when they graduate at twenty-two, and most remain confused even after working for three to five years. But he was different. He became enlightened very early. At the age of fourteen, he understood that he didn't need to struggle for money or work hard for survival. Because his father's blood flowed in him, he had a place in society.

Then what was he living for?

Fushimi Roku thought about this question for ten years.

From the age of seven to seventeen, Fushimi Roku contemplated while experiencing things like household registration, his parents' divorce, and preparing for the college entrance exam. The first half of his life was rather uneventful. Those scars might become popular anecdotes on Douyin, but to him, they were tedious and insipid.

Those ten years were his nightmare.

Fushimi Roku couldn't feel the passage of time. He lay on the bed, opened his eyes, stood in front of the mirror, watched himself grow bit by bit, repeating daily routines. The surrounding scenery kept changing; he moved houses several times, yet the mirror by his bed remained unchanged.

Until one morning when he was seventeen, Fushimi Roku opened his eyes with a premonition that today was unusual, as if something significant would happen to change the trajectory of his life for the better.

He got up early, washed up, and stood in front of the mirror as usual, feeling a strange sense of relief as if Sisyphus had finally pushed the boulder to the mountaintop.

But the premonition did not come true. Fushimi Roku stood for a few minutes, watching himself in the mirror shrink, the surrounding scenery rapidly rewind, his clothes constantly changing, finally freezing at children's jeans and a blue short-sleeved shirt.

He was back to when he was seven years old, his stomach growling, the floorboards under his feet emitting a damp aura.

This was a nightmare.

An endlessly looping nightmare.

Fushimi Roku blinked. This time, he didn't hesitate and walked straight downstairs. There was still the sound of discussion in the parlor; the guests were the same as last time, asking the hostess who the child was. Fushimi Roku turned a deaf ear, walked into the kitchen, and asked the nanny to make him something to eat.

"But Miss Ye wants refreshments to entertain the guests..."

The nanny was a bit hesitant, not knowing whether she should agree. She was managing too much at the moment.

"Make mine first," Fushimi Roku said.

The nanny thought for a moment, feeling that the person who paid her was the hostess, so she should prioritize her and decided to let little Fushimi Roku wait.

Unexpectedly, Fushimi Roku picked up a dining knife, hovering it over the freshly baked pastries, threatening, "If you don't make it for me, I'll just have to eat hers."

"Okay, okay..."

The nanny had no choice but to make Fushimi Roku a bowl of mixed noodles, which delayed her a bit and earned a glare from the hostess. After returning to the kitchen, Fushimi Roku was already well-fed, wiped his mouth, and prepared to go out and play.

For some reason, his mother ended her meeting with the guests early this time, blocking Fushimi Roku in the hallway and questioning him again about why he was running around.

"Nezha could return flesh to his father and bones to his mother. I've already died, so I owe you nothing," Fushimi Roku said out of the blue.

His mother didn't understand what this meant, but she could hear the disrespect in his tone, and her anger burned even hotter.

"Are you trying to anger me to death? You, you..."

Before she could finish, Fushimi Roku's patience was already exhausted.

He closed his eyes, the fog in his mind gradually clearing as his consciousness kept floating upwards until he finally felt his real body.

The familiar feeling returned, and Fushimi Roku opened his eyes.

He looked up, a somber expression on his face, and turned to Miyazaki Shizuka. The latter couldn't hide her surprise, looking at Fushimi Roku as if seeing a precious panda.

"How did you wake up?" Miyazaki Shizuka asked.

Fushimi Roku didn't answer. He turned his head toward Minamoto Tamako, who lay on a chair, eyes closed, frowning as if having a nightmare.

"What are you doing?" Fushimi Roku questioned.

He slowly stood up, stretching his arms to ensure there was nothing wrong with his body.

Miyazaki Shizuka stepped back, raising her hands slightly and gently consoling, "Fujimura-kun, please don't get agitated. Don't misunderstand; this is just part of the treatment..."

"I'm not sick." Fushimi Roku watched Miyazaki Shizuka warily.

"Maybe not, but you know... For example, now, do you think I want to harm you? Do ordinary people think this way? Do you think this mindset is healthy?" Miyazaki Shizuka asked repeatedly, "Please calm down a bit and consider rationally: What motive do I have to harm you?"

Fushimi Roku remained silent, his face tightening without any expression.

Miyazaki Shizuka continued to persuade, "There should be irrational feelings between people, there should be a basic 'trust among the same kind,' like how a patient wouldn't suspect poison just because the medicine is bitter... Do you understand?"

Fushimi Roku certainly understood that he had some minor psychological issues; otherwise, he wouldn't resist seeing a psychiatrist, let alone lie to Director Shintani.

Seeing Miyazaki Shizuka's sincere gaze, combined with the fact that he wasn't hurt, he slowly relaxed and eased his tense nerves.

"Sorry, I had a nightmare..." Fushimi Roku said, rubbing his forehead and sitting back down.

Miyazaki Shizuka let out a sigh of relief, her face still showing concern. She sat next to Fushimi Roku, placing her hand on his leg, and gently reassured him, "I know, no one wants to face painful memories..."

"Don't worry, there won't be a next time." Fushimi Roku said.

Miyazaki Shizuka smiled, "Seeing you so strong, I'm very relieved..."

"Don't misunderstand, what I meant was, I don't like being spied on," Fushimi Roku interrupted, "Since this is your first time and I didn't make it clear, I won't hold it against you, but there won't be a next time."

Miyazaki Shizuka said with difficulty, "This is part of the treatment. Fujimura-kun should know about psychology. To correct a patient's mental state, they must face the cause..."

"I know, so this time I didn't hold it against you."

Fushimi Roku cast a sidelong glance at her and repeated, "There won't be a next time."

With the professionalism of a physician, Miyazaki Shizuka sensed a dangerous air from the patient. She slowly withdrew her hand, offering an apologetic smile, without further persuasion or explanation, sincerely saying, "I'm sorry, it wasn't intentional... How about a drink? Sweets could lighten the mood."

"No, thank you."

Fushimi Roku declined decisively. He turned his head and saw Minamoto Tamako still asleep, even curled up on her side, seemingly also trapped in a nightmare without escape.

"What's wrong with her?" Fushimi Roku couldn't help but ask.

Miyazaki Shizuka stood up and sat beside Minamoto Tamako, explaining, "Miss Tamako also has some minor psychological issues. Like you, she's facing her 'cause.' It's just that Miss Tamako isn't as... um..."

She thought for a moment and continued, "Not as special as you, so she's still receiving treatment."

"What's her cause?" Fushimi Roku leaned forward, examining Minamoto Tamako's side profile.

"It's a murderer called 'Heavenly Punishment'..."

Miyazaki Shizuka paused, catching Fushimi Roku's micro-expressions, and asked, "Does Fujimura-kun know about this?"