The silence in the room was suffocating.
The rhythmic beeping of Hiroshi Kiryuu's heart monitor—my grandfather—was the only sound breaking the heavy stillness. Each beep marked the seconds he had left, like an invisible countdown.
I wanted to cling to hope… but deep down, I knew this would be our final moment together.
My aunt held his hand with a desperation painful to witness. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but her eyes… they didn't just reflect sadness. They showed fear. Fear of a world without her father.
I, on the other hand, remained still, as if all my emotions had frozen solid.
It wasn't indifference… it was self-preservation.
I've always hidden behind a wall of coldness—and now, that wall was the only thing keeping me from falling apart.
"Please… just hang on a little longer," my aunt whispered, barely audible. "I still need you to scold me when I mess up… I still want your hugs when everything feels too heavy…"
My grandfather offered a weak smile.
"Don't be afraid… my little girl… The end… isn't something to fear…"
His voice was just a whisper, so faint it felt like even the wind held its breath to listen.
My aunt shook her head, refusing to accept reality.
"Don't say that…! You can't go yet!"
I clenched my fists.
I hated feeling this powerless.
Hated that our words couldn't hold him in this world.
Then he looked at me, and in his gaze… there was that soft glow only the wise seem to carry in the final moments of life.
"Haruki… promise me something…"
I swallowed hard. For a moment, I wanted to be a child again.
I wanted someone to tell me everything would be okay.
"What is it, Grandpa…?"
His trembling hand reached for mine and squeezed it with what little strength he had left.
"Don't let loneliness consume you…
Life is more than routines and books…
Even if it hurts… even if the path is cruel… keep moving forward.
Find your purpose."
His words pierced straight through my defenses, right into the center of my chest.
"I'll try…" I murmured, unsure if it was the truth or a lie.
Then the monitor's line turned steady.
A sharp tone sliced through the air like an invisible blade.
Time stopped.
My aunt cried out his name between sobs.
Nurses rushed in.
But it was too late.
Hiroshi Kiryuu was gone.
My legs gave out without me noticing.
I collapsed to the floor, mind blank.
I didn't cry.
I didn't scream.
I just stayed there… feeling something inside me slowly unravel.
The most important person in my life… was gone.
And with him, a part of me vanished too.
I don't know how much time passed after that.
The days that followed went by in a haze.
I remember my aunt handling the funeral preparations, speaking to people who came and went, giving and receiving condolences.
I just nodded along, not really hearing any of it.
Everything felt unreal—like I was trapped in a bad dream I couldn't wake up from.
The day of the funeral, the rain fell over the city.
It felt fitting.
Even the sky seemed to be in mourning.
Dressed in black, I watched as the coffin was lowered into the earth.
The monk's words blended with the sound of rain tapping against umbrellas.
My aunt stood beside me, her face hidden behind a tear-soaked handkerchief.
I didn't know what I was supposed to feel.
Sadness? Anger? Despair?
But all I felt was a crushing emptiness.
When the ceremony ended, people started leaving, one by one. Some came up to me with words of comfort.
"He'd be proud of you."
"Stay strong."
"Time heals all wounds."
Empty phrases—just things people say when they don't know what else to offer.
I just nodded, unable to speak.
Eventually, my aunt walked off with some relatives to handle the will.
I remained, standing before the grave, staring at the newly placed headstone.
Raindrops slid down the stone, blurring the name etched into it.
"Don't let loneliness consume you…"
I remembered his last words.
I clenched my fists.
"I'll try, Grandpa…"
I said the words quietly, a whisper swallowed by the storm.
But deep down…
I wasn't sure if I really could.
The rain kept falling as I noticed my cousins among the attendees.
And as expected, they didn't seem particularly moved by our grandfather's death.
Hiroki and Souta—sons of my eldest uncle—were only there out of obligation. Their suits were spotless, but the way they stood, whispering to each other with barely disguised smirks, made it clear: this was just another formality.
Hiroki, the older one, had a faint grin on his face, as if waiting for the right moment to take advantage of the situation.
Souta, meanwhile, stared at his phone in utter boredom.
Then there were my uncles, Kenji and Takeshi—my grandfather's biological sons. They never truly saw me as family.
"Well, would you look at that…" I heard Kenji mutter—not quite whispering, but just loud enough for me to catch. "The old man's really gone."
"Don't act surprised," Takeshi replied with a mocking grin. "We all knew it was only a matter of time."
I didn't bother looking their way.
I knew them too well.
They weren't here out of love or respect.
They were here because the will would be read after the funeral.
To them, our grandfather's death meant one thing: inheritance.
"He probably left everything to his precious daughter," Kenji scoffed. "He always acted like she was the only one who mattered."
"Maybe," Takeshi added, "but let's not forget the orphan."
I could feel their eyes on me—waiting, watching for a reaction.
But I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
I stayed silent, ignoring them.
I knew exactly what they thought of me.
Ever since I was adopted, I was seen as an outsider. A stranger who, despite having no blood ties, was taken in by the man they called father.
There was always contempt in their eyes when they looked at me.
And while I had long since learned to block it out—today… I didn't have the energy to deal with them.
Hiroki and Souta, on the other hand, seemed more interested in whispering bets to each other.
"I bet Grandpa left most of his fortune to Auntie," Souta said with a sly grin.
"I wouldn't be so sure…" Hiroki replied thoughtfully. "Maybe he left something for our dear orphaned cousin."
"Haruki? Come on," Souta scoffed. "What would he even do with that kind of money? Probably blow it on books."
"Or just stay holed up in his apartment, not talking to anyone."
They both chuckled.
I didn't respond.
Not worth it.
Soon after, the ceremony ended, and everyone began heading to the private room where the will would be read.
I let out a quiet sigh.
I knew this was where the real trouble would begin.