Villain: Your Heroines Were Delicious - Chapter 228 - 16

Chapter 228: Chapter 16

At this moment, Seijirou and Rindou stood in front of his house. The police car used to drive them already driving away behind them.

The suburban silence of the neighborhood felt eerily disconnected from the world they had just left behind—a world of charred concrete and hidden mass graves.

The lights of the house cast a yellow, sickly glow over them, highlighting the grime and the haunted exhaustion etched into their features.

Haoran opened the door with a heavy click, the familiar scent of home fighting a losing battle against the miasma that clung to their skin.

“I’m home,” he called out, his voice sounding hollow and metallic.

“Welcome back, Seijirou-sama… ah, Rindou-san as well.” Yuko, who had been sitting on the sofa watching a late-night variety show, immediately stood up upon seeing them arrive.

Her eyes darted between the two of them; she looked a bit surprised seeing Rindou arriving so late and in such a state, but she still maintained her practiced, professional smile.

“Sorry we’re late.” Seijirou said, stepping onto the genkan. “Something came up and Rindou will be staying for the night. Where’s Haruka?”

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Rindou added, bowing politely despite the fact that her legs felt like they were made of lead before she stepped inside, her movements stiff and mechanical.

“She’s in her room, studying,” Yuko replied.

Seeing Seijirou reach for the buttons of his blazer, she immediately stepped forward to help him, her hands reaching out to take the garment.

“No need. It stinks,” Seijirou said sharply, pulling away.

He didn’t mean to be harsh, but the scent of the Otsuka Sanatorium, the stench of old blood and the foul, cloying rot of 121 corpses, seemed to be vibrating off the fabric.

“No need to wash these, Yuko. Just put them in a heavy-duty garbage bag and throw them in the trash, or better yet, just burn them. Same with hers.”

Without waiting for a response, he began stripping right there in the hallway.

He pulled off the blazer, the shirt, and the trousers, dropping them into a heap as if they were toxic waste.

Once he was done, he stood there in just his boxers, his muscular frame still tense after everything they had went through.

“I’m gonna go and take a bath,” he said, his eyes fixed forward, before walking with purpose toward the bathroom.

He’d probably be there for awhile.

Rindou didn’t hesitate either.

The shame of being seen in her undergarments was entirely eclipsed by the desperate, frantic need to be clean as she stripped down to her black lace bra and panties, tossing her expensive school uniform onto the pile Seijirou had started.

“Sorry for the trouble,” she whispered to Yuko.

“N-No, no trouble at all.” Yuko was visibly confused, her nose wrinkling as the reality of the scent finally hit her. It was a smell that shouldn’t exist in a clean home—a primal, heavy odor of death. “Rindou-san… where have the two of you been? You two stink of… of rotten meat.”

“I…” Rindou paused, her hand clenching so tight it turned white as the memory of the black-slicked hands and the melting face of the real Tamaki flashed before her eyes.

After a few moments, she managed to collect herself and shook her head violently.

“Sorry. I, I don’t want to talk about it. Not now.” She whispered.

She was still feeling a volatile mixture of burning hot anger and soul crushing disgust regarding everything she had seen and heard today.

The tragedy of Kusana Tamaki and the others was a weight she wasn’t ready to set down.

“O-Okay?” Yuko nodded, her concern deepening. “Then, I’ll go heat up the food for you two. It’s a special stew Haruka helped with. Come eat after you’re done with your bath. Or would you like to eat first? You look like you haven’t had a thing all day.”

At the mention of “stew” and “eating,” Rindou’s face went from pale to a sickly, translucent white.

Her stomach did a violent, agonizing flip, the contents of her gut threatening to rise at the mere thought of consuming anything as she doubled over, gagging into her hand.

Yuko was startled and immediately rushed to her side, rubbing her back with a gentle, circular motion. “A-Are you okay, Rindou-san? Are you sick? S-Should I call a doctor?”

Rindou was sweating profusely, the beads of cold perspiration rolling down her neck.

Her eyes were dilated, darting around the hallway as she took deep, shuddering breaths, trying to force her diaphragm to relax.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the pile of bones in the flashlight’s beam.

Finally, after a few minutes of agonizing silence, she managed to calm herself and straightened up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

She gave Yuko a weak, trembling smile. “I’m alright now. Thank you, Yuko-san. It’s just… it’s been a very long day.”

Yuko shook her head, her maternal instincts fully engaged. “No need for thanks. I have some herbal medicines here for nausea and nerves. Would you like to take one?”

“No. No, I’m not sick. I just…” Rindou looked toward the bathroom door, where the sound of running water had begun. “Can I take a bath first? I need to get the smell off me. I can still feel it in my hair.”

Yuko blinked, realizing the situation. “Well, you know, Seijirou-sama’s in there, but if you’re okay with that… he usually doesn’t lock the door during his cool-down. You can go in.”

Rindou nodded silently as she walked toward the bathroom and pushed the door open.

The room was filled with steam, the air thick and humid, and there, right as she entered, she saw Seijirou.

He was sitting in the large tub, his head leaned back against the rim, eyes closed, and his brow was furrowed in a deep, painful-looking line, his hands clenched on his knees as if he were fighting an internal war, trying to force himself to relax but finding it impossible.

“Rindou?” he asked, not opening his eyes, with his voice being a like a low rumble through the steam.

“Hm.” Rindou nodded, as if he could see her.

She reached back and unhooked her bra, stepping out of her panties and placing them in the laundry basket.

She stepped under the showerhead and turned the handle to the highest setting, letting the scalding water hammer against her body, yet she remained motionless, as if she couldn’t feel a thing.

She stood there for a long time, in a daze, completely disregarding the heat as the water ran over her skin.

Despite this, she felt like the filth of the Otsuka Sanatorium was something that had seeped into her very pores—something that soap and water couldn’t reach.

Seijirou opened his eyes and stared at her.

Seeing her standing there, motionless and staring into the tiles with a thousand-yard stare, he realized she was sliding into a shock-induced trance.

He immediately stood up and stepped out of the tub, the water dripping from his scarred, lean body.

He took the small, plastic bathroom stool from the corner and placed it behind Rindou before he reached out and grabbed her shoulders, his grip firm and grounding.

She flinched, a small gasp escaping her lips before she looked up and saw his face, the light in his eyes was muted, replaced by a deep, weary understanding.

“Sit down,” he said softly.

He didn’t wait for a reply, gently pressing her down onto the stool.

She nodded like a child and sat, her head bowed as the water cascaded over her.

He turned off the shower to save her skin from the scalding heat, then reached for a bottle of shampoo and poured a generous amount into his palms and began to work it into her long hair, his fingers massaging her scalp with a gentleness that belied his reputation as a King of Delinquents.

“Can’t get it off your head?” he asked quietly, his voice a soothing anchor in the humid air.

He rinsed her hair, then took a bar of soap and began washing her shoulders and back, his movements slow and methodical.

Rindou shook her head, a few tears finally mingling with the water on her face. “My anger got the better of me earlier, especially with my father. I was so focused on the injustice that I haven’t had the time to truly process what we saw. But now… now that it’s quiet… I feel sick just thinking about those corpses. Koyuzu Mira, Kusana Tamaki… They were all so young. How much torture did they endure before those beasts decided to just end their lives? It’s… it’s terrifying to just even imagine what those last moments were like in the dark.”

Seijirou nodded, his hands pausing for a moment on her shoulders. “Yeah. It’s the kind of thing that leaves a mark on the soul. And I can’t really offer any grand advice here, Rindou, other than we have to move past it.”

For him, it was a little better as he already had experience dealing with those monsters in human skins.

Back with mister, they saw humans getting butchered and prepared like it was beef or pork.

And those young girls being treated as breeding pigs for the amusement of those who consider themselves powerful.

Back then, he thought he had seen how evil humans can be, but he never expected that just a week after everything, he would once again experience another evil that made him question if this world was really worth saving.

Rindou remained silent, her chin resting on her knees as she hugged her legs.

The whole room quieted down, the only sound being the rhythmic *drip-drip-drip* of the faucet and the water dripping from their body.

The steam swirled around them, creating a world where only the two of them seem to exist.

Finally, she spoke, her voice barely audible.

“Can you… can you hug me, for a bit?”

“Yeah,” Seijirou answered without a second of hesitation.

He took another stool and sat down behind her before wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest as he rested his chin on her shoulder, his skin warm against hers.

The two of them remained there in the silence, two warriors seeking shelter from the shadows they had invited into their lives.

They stayed in that embrace for a long time, trying to drown out the echoes of the screams and move past the things they had seen in the basement of the Otsuka Sanatorium.

In the warmth of the steam, the memory of the cold mass grave finally began to recede, if only by an inch.