Chapter 3

Reading Settings

Translator: Soafp

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Upon hearing the explanation from the two police officers about the reason for their visit, the entire group displayed expressions of disbelief. Some could be heard choking back sobs, perhaps still haunted by the recent news.

Nevertheless, to confirm the harsh reality, they reluctantly headed to the police station—

They brought along the younger sister who is a student and for some reason his ex-girlfriend.

What lay in the morgue was the son, brother, and former lover they had all eagerly awaited, but now with a disfigured face and contorted body.

The police handed them a notebook left on the rooftop, which read:

“I’m sorry for causing various troubles until now. Well, it seems my mere existence was a nuisance, so I apologize. I stole a notebook, pencil, and lighter from the convenience store to leave this behind. Similarly, for my final selfish act, I stole a cake and candles from the cake shop. [Sister’s name], don’t follow me. I’ll depart on the day and time I was born to be reborn in the underworld.”

He was also given a brand new, untouched mobile phone with only one contact saved—the home number—and the date and time. Three photos from the rooftop were attached: a forced smile more awkward than the zero-yen promotion at a fast-food chain, the cake and candles in disarray during the escape, and a shot of the ground from the rooftop, as if indicating the entrance to the underworld.

Everyone, excluding the police personnel, collapsed in tears.

It was too late.

The older sister’s attitude and behavior during the brother’s release, the mother’s words when he called home—it doesn’t matter how much trouble he caused or how he ended up in juvenile detention. Such treatment would break anyone’s spirit.

Even if he had judged himself as an unwanted person, it wouldn’t be unreasonable. Especially if he were still an immature child.

But it was too late.

Everything had come too late.

Surprise party or not, telling the truth, hearing it, seeking forgiveness—all these options were now beyond reach.

It was too late.

The police quickly identified the unidentified boy.

The notebook found on the rooftop, the photos in the mobile phone, and the cake box—all of them had the sister’s name. If they knew the appearance of the person, it would be immediately apparent that he was his brother.

It served as ample corroborating evidence.

Fortunately or unfortunately, the police officers who visited the home had encountered him several times, either admonishing or detaining him. This familiarity made the identification even quicker.

The one crying the most was the younger sister, the only person whose name was written in the notebook.

In the midst of a less-than-ideal family relationship, the sister was the only one who interacted normally, or rather, affectionately. She was a brother’s girl, and the one who truly opened her heart to and forgave him was his younger sister.