Ronwa turned and stood up, brushing the grass off her dress, then lifted her head to look at him. The height difference between them was striking—she looked up as if gazing at a towering mountain, while the breeze stirred his long brown hair gently, wrapping the scene in a solemn stillness.

  Dazai stared down at her, his face devoid of warmth, his dark eyes heavy with an unforgotten past. Then he spoke in a voice as soft as the night’s whisper:

  “Ghosts… don’t trust humans easily. In fact… it’s impossible.”

  He then looked up at the moon before returning his gaze to her. This time, he smiled… but his smile was grim, and his eyes were as cold as a blade:

  “And I… don’t trust you. Even if you’re ‘the princess’.”

  Ronwa remained silent, frozen in place, her eyebrows twitching ever so slightly. The response wasn’t easy. But she stepped toward him—just two firm steps—her eyes locked onto his face:

  “I don’t need your trust.”

  She said it coldly, her voice calm, as if filled only with certainty.

  Then she added, with unwavering resolve, as if her heart alone were speaking:

  “I only want to free your soul, that’s all. Because you… died without ever having a happy ending. And that doesn’t suit you.”

  At that, Dazai gasped faintly, as if her words had pierced some wall within his chest. He hadn’t expected… her to say that.

  “And I don’t need your trust… because in the end, this isn’t just for you… it’s for my soul too.”

  Dazai stared at her in silence, and something in his eyes… trembled.

  Dazai’s pupils suddenly shrank, as if Ronwa’s words had pierced his heart in a moment of clarity. He stayed silent for a beat, as though time itself had frozen around him, then closed his eyes… and smiled.

  Suddenly, he burst into laughter.

  He bent forward, clutching his stomach, his laughter echoing through the silent garden. A long, strange laugh—like the laugh of pain mixed with bitter irony, impossible to tell whether he was laughing at her… or at himself.

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  “What’s so funny?!” Ronwa snapped, her face flushed with confusion as she stared at him.

  Dazai wiped away a tear that had fallen from laughing so hard and said:

  “I expected you to say that… I had imagined this exact scene in my head—seeing a tiny person telling me those heroic words!”

  He laughed again, this time more softly.

  “Weirdo…” Ronwa murmured under her breath.

  Then suddenly he went silent, his gaze turning serious, his voice calm and filled with something undeniably true:

  “But I meant what I said. So—”

  He reached into his inner pocket and pulled out a small book, its **black cover mysterious and shimmering with a faint silver sheen**.

  “I’ll test you.”

  He held the book up in front of her, his eyes glowing.

  “If you’re worthy of having me as your servant… and receiving my key… then solve this crime.”

  In the blink of an eye, his hair and clothes began to whip around violently, as if a powerful wind had erupted from within him.

  Massive black letters, twisted and curling, burst out of the book. They spun around him in a terrifying circle, expanding outward, swirling and writhing like living creatures.

  Ronwa’s eyes widened—she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

  Then Dazai gave a dark, sideward smirk:

  “If you can solve the crime inside this book… then you’ll be able to escape.”

  He raised his hand and murmured coolly:

  “The Black Ink Contract.”

  In a flash—

  Ronwa’s body glowed entirely, a faint light surrounding her before she was **sucked into the black vortex**...

  And vanished.

  The book snapped shut with a soft pop in his hands.

  Dazai remained standing, holding the black book, his eyes gleaming with a mysterious glint.

  Ronwa slowly opened her eyes, greeted by faint lights.

  She found herself in an elegant Japanese-style room, the walls adorned with paintings of cherry blossoms, and the scent of fresh wood rising from the tatami floor.

  She was wearing a luxurious silk kimono in moyen color (a soft pinkish-lavender), embroidered with white flowers, its threads flowing gently around her.

  She lay on a soft, comfortable floor mattress, covered with an embroidered silk blanket.

  Before she could take in the situation further, the sliding door opened carefully, and a group of men entered, dressed in traditional dark kimonos, katana swords firmly tied at their waists.

  Their expressions were a mix of respect and relief.

  “Lady Yoshiko!” one of them said with a deep bow, as if exhaling a breath of relief at seeing her awake.

  Ronwa blinked in confusion and whispered:

  “What… is going on here?”

  An older man stepped forward gently, speaking in a serious tone:

  “You went into shock, my lady, after seeing your father… Lord Hiromu Tsukamura, murdered.”

  Ronwa froze in place, a chill creeping into her limbs.

  Inside her, a realization flared:

  “Dazai wasn’t joking… I’m really inside the book…!”

  She gathered herself and raised her head with determination, speaking with a strong tone that surprised everyone:

  “I want to see the crime scene. Now.”

  The men hesitated, exchanging glances.

  One of them stepped forward, trying to calm her:

  “That’s not possible, my lady… the scene is far too brutal for you to witness—”

  But Ronwa interrupted sharply, her eyes shining with fear and resolve:

  “I said… I want to see it.”

  A heavy silence fell over the room. Then one of them nodded, yielding to her will.

  As the daughter of Lord Tsukamura… they couldn’t refuse.

  Ronwa slowly rose from her bedding, her heart pounding violently.

  She knew..

  To solve this case, and escape the book… she would have to face everything herself.