Chapter Three - Part Four - The Diary of Ryuuzen Ayaka

Diary of Ryuuzen Ayaka

August 23rd, 1960

 

Another terrible thing happened.

Being alone is scary, but being with others is even scarier. I don't know who I can trust. I feel as though everyone around me looks suspicious.

This morning, Great-Uncle Soujirou didn't arrive for breakfast... He'd been killed in the Tiger Room. Both his arms were cut off. The bed was covered in blood, and blood splatters went all the way up to the ceiling■■ (This section appears to have been deliberately stricken out with paint).

I couldn't possibly describe such a horrid scene.

When Grandfather finally fell asleep from stress and heartache, I realized how important he had been to keeping order in this turbulent time. Immediately, we all fell apart.

Tsukihiko accused Mr. Amamiya of being the culprit, simply because he wasn't a blood relative. Even Ms. Tonegawa and I were accused of being accomplices when we tried to defend him. He was so angry that I cried, but no matter who was accused, Tsukie acted as though she had no idea.

Ms. Tonegawa looked at Tsukihiko with terrifyingly cold eyes. I've never seen her make such a scary face before. Why does everyone have a side of themselves that they hide from me?

When I talked to Mr. Amamiya, I saw fear in his eyes. I think he suspected me of being the culprit. ...Everyone, what's wrong? But that's not it. I'm pretty sure even I've changed.

Uncle Genji worries about me. But when I see him looking the same as normal in spite of all the terrible things happening around us, I feel more scared than relieved.

Everyone in the villa looks suspicious.

Today once again, nothing happened during the day, and now night has fallen. Something will happen again today. Maybe I'll be next.

 

August 24th, 1960

Ms. Tonegawa was killed. Her throat was slit. There was nothing we could have done. Everything is pointless. The murderer is mocking us, I'm sure of it.

As usual, the days are perfectly uneventful. The silence is all-consuming.

Why am I writing this? I might not live to see tomorrow. Even if I do, I have no future. If I'm the last one left alive, will I have the courage to face the killer? (The remainder is illegible.)

 

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