People have gotten even more paranoid since the deaths that the Lust Demon caused. It wasn't just one person that no one had any particular attachment to; it was a whole group of pretty well-known students. Even the teachers have been pretty jumpy lately, and they have been said to have special self-defense training.

I didn't want to pin all the murders on me. It was all the Lust Demon's fault. She had told me that all she wanted was a little fun and then she completely manipulated me into killing twelve students all with one fatal touch. I didn't have control over what I did. I wasn't even sure if what I did was my doing or the Lust Demon's.

Whatever it was, I refuse to have any more contact with her. Yet I still owed her a lot. I was now one step closer to finding my senpai.

More and more demons have been beckoning themselves to me, asking more gory and horrifying deeds, ones that required a lot more bloodshed and trickery than killing one girl or retrieving a ring. I was no longer sure if what I was doing was right.

Pinning all the crimes I do on my desire for my Flame Demon didn't seem to console me in any way. If anything, it made me unsure of myself.

What if I was a lot more twisted than I thought I was?

It didn't matter if what I did was all for love; it all still counted for murder. And now, thirteen students have paid the consequences for it. Thirteen students, who all had family and loved ones who shall never know what truly caused their beloved's demise, all because of me.

It was still blood on my hands. It was still injustice.

And what would happen if my beloved finds out about what I've done? What if he no longer loves me afterwards? The thought of that happening seems preposterous in my heart, knowing how much he loved me so, but now it seems entirely possible.

I'm not even sure if I would love a murderer myself.

The school atmosphere seemed to dim a lot more when I came to school. An unsettling fog of paranoia has taken over the school hallways and it leeched onto everyone attending it.

The autopsies of the dead students that the Lust Demon killed came back from the police station and what baffled them most was that there seemed to be no sign of damage on the students, almost as if nothing happened to them, other than the fact that they died. It was almost enough to write it off as natural cause. But if twelve students all died at the exact same time in the same room, then calling it a natural cause would only be a fool's conclusion.

The school's social butterflies clung onto each other and feared than one of the other students might sneak up of them and stab them in the neck. They gathered themselves into tight-knit groups and prepared to keep themselves safe from harm.

All the students in the martial arts club didn't want to show the fear resting within them. Instead, they watched everyone with steely gazes, ready to attack anyone who dared tried to harm their school. It was almost like they were hungry wolves, ready for action against any possible criminals (simply saying the word "criminal" seemed to cause a shiver up my spine).

The Photography Club's students seemed to be most threatening of all. They weren't settled by the police's statements on the investigation. They wanted to take matters into their own hands to serve justice to this school. When I passed their club room, I could hear them discussing all the recent suspicious activity in hushed whispers. They even have taken the liberty of setting up a corkboard and filled it up with (my) recent victims' yearbook photos and possible suspects (which, thankfully, did not include me . . . yet).

All the stress was getting to me. It was even changing me in strange ways. Every now and then, whenever I hear about the students' deaths, I felt myself twitch involuntarily, like there's some hostile beast trying to climb their way out of my body. I try to suppress it, but it didn't take long until people start noticing. Now, I can't seem to trust myself to be around other people. It's been hard to get sleep lately, dreams of dying classmates and my Flame Demon being outraged with me haunting me and preventing me from getting any shut-eye. Now I'm cursed with the same dark circles that Oka Ruto has. And now with the heavy shadows on my face and messy hair, I now finally fit in with the rest of the Occult Club.

My fellow club members were just as adamant about solving the recent murders as much as the Photography Club was, yet they decided to go about it in a different way.

"There must be . . . some force b-behind . . . all of this," Oka said shyly. "E-everything happens . . . f-for a reason."

Because there are some people sick enough to dispose of innocent people, I think darkly to myself.

"I think we should let professionals handle this," Shin Higaku, the vice president of the club (I finally learned all of their names!) replied. "This kind of stuff is no place for high school students like us."

"But the police are just letting the perpetrator get away with this!" Daku Atsu cried, crossing his arms stubbornly. "Clearly, they have no idea what they're doing."

"As if we know more than they do," Shin snapped, which was a surprise. "The last thing I want is for one of us to get hurt trying to solve this on our own. Besides, who would trust a bunch of teenagers with a murder investigation?"

"The Photography Club thinks differently," Supana Churu whispered, barely audible. She and Kokuma Jutsu were the most paranoid out of all of us.

"I agree with Shin," Chojo Tekina deadpanned with the most unimpressed expression. "There's no point in getting hurt in something that doesn't involve us. As for the Photography Club, let them do what they want, they never cared about what we think anyways."

Oka clasped her hands together like she always did and whispered to the ground, "W-why must t-this . . . be h-happening to u-us? No one . . . did anything wrong. T-this isn't right . . . it's not fair."

Shin placed a comforting hand on Oka's shoulder, stroking her hair like he was saying something telepathically to her.

"Sakura-chan, you've been awfully quiet," Kokuma said, finally noticing the seventh member off to the side, staring at a bookshelf. "Is there something on your mind?"

What could I say? That I was the true criminal? That the reason I did so much wrong was not because any of the victims deserved but because all I wanted was a man that couldn't even explain to me why he left in the first place? None of this made sense anymore. None of this was right and yet I kept going deeper and deeper. And even I tried, there was turning back at this point.

The damage was already done. No amount of apology would ever bring back the students I sacrificed. Nothing would ever compensate for my crimes.

"Please, I just don't feel comfortable discussing murder," I lied. "We should get back to reading."

What had been happening lately, it seems that a surprise would be the last thing I would ever want? But yet, wedged inside of my locker, along with my indoor shoes, was a note scribbled on fancy pink stationery with swirly pink flowers.

The first words written on it made my heart stop.

I know what you did to Midori Gurin.

Someone knew. Someone knew that I was a murderer. I couldn't believe it. I swore that no one saw me stab her. Then I remember the two witnesses who saw her corpse: Saki Miyu and Ryusei Koki. But then another detail made my blood run cold: both of them were dead. Those two had already fallen prey to the Lust Demon's powers.

So then who dares tries and send me this?

I kept on reading it, even though every word I say inside my head sends shivers up and down my spine.

But don't worry, I won't tell anyone what I saw. I'm actually quite impressed with everything you've done.

No way. Someone was interested in what I've done to all those students? What kind of sicko would ever feel impressed about so many innocent deaths? I felt sweat trickle down my forehead and I wipe it away quickly before anyone could notice. My eyes flit across the locker room, trying to see if any of my classmates are watching me quake.

I want to speak with you about your recent activities. Please meet me on the rooftop at 5:00 pm.

I'll have to skip club activities then if I choose to meet with them. Somehow, that relieves me, knowing that I won't have to participate in that phony ritual. Yet the last words written on the note chilled me to the bone.

I hope I'll see you there, the note said almost menacingly.