The Puppet's Strings

The air in the interrogation room was thick, not with pain, but with silence. Haruto sat bound to the chair. The light above him flickered intermittently, strobing the darkest corners of the room. The stale scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, barely masking the stench of blood.

The interrogator, with tired bags under his eyes, leaned forward, tapping a pen against the table in irritation. He was growing impatient.

“So,” the man finally said, voice dry like paper. “Cat got your tongue? You were more talkative when you were screaming.”

Haruto didn’t flinch. He couldn’t anymore.

But beneath the battered exterior, his mind was stirring.

The flood of memories from before still echoed through him. The face of the man he’d killed, the girl’s eyes peering from the corner, Yukawa’s calm manipulation. And above all, the name that had escaped his lips like a crack in a dam: Akane…

He now remembered what he had done. Who he had been.

And how much of that was someone else’s design.

A click echoed through the room as the interrogator lit a cigarette and exhaled with disinterest. “You know, I’ve always wondered what kind of broken clockwork lives inside someone like you. A monster who hesitates to admit what he is.”

Haruto chuckled.

“How’s that cherry vanilla,” he murmured.

The interrogator paused, narrowing his eyes.

Haruto looked up. “Didn’t you try to quit two months ago? Nicotine patches. Didn’t work. So you relapsed. Hard. And now you overcompensate with cheap aromatics to hide the guilt from your own breath.”

The man stiffened.

“Interesting,” Haruto continued. “You come in every day with the same rotation of cigarettes and cologne. A bottle of Blue Vertigo – low-tier knockoff. But only after your morning session. Before lunch, you don’t wear any. Means you shower after your first few sessions. Probably because you don’t want the people upstairs smelling blood on you. You’re low-rank. Disposable. And you’re scared of being noticed.”

The interrogator stepped forward, striking him hard across the haw.

But Haruto laughed again – harder this time.

“You’re not just an interrogator,” he said. “You’re being tested.”

The man froze.

“You hesitate before hurting me. You flinch when you make a mistake… Someone’s watching you, aren’t they?” Haruto tilted his head.

“A senior figure. You mess up, you’re done. That’s why you’re trying so hard to be brutal. But that’s not who you really are.”

Haruto leaned forward again, despite the pain, and whispered:

“She wore a silver locket, didn’t she?” Haruto said, voice low and measured. “Had your initials engraved on the back. You intended to give this on her birthday. But she was awfully late, wasn't she? Saying that she had some important work to take care of.”

The interrogator froze.

Haruto smiled thinly. “You thought it was just your paranoia. You refused to believe it, didn't you?” Haruto let out a slow breath.

“She threatened to take her away. Didn’t you run away with her in fear of that?”

He leaned forward as far as his restraints allowed. “But… the funny thing is… I shouldn’t know any of this. But I do. Just enough to wonder how much more I could remember.”

A crack rippled through the interrogator’s composure. His jaw clenched. His fingers twitched near his baton.

Haruto’s smile widened ever so slightly.

The silence was long and sharp.

“How long have they been feeding you information about me? Hmm? Do they call me a lab rat? Or did they tell you I’m the missing link to Yukawa’s research?”

The interrogator didn’t speak.

Haruto’s grin sharpened. “You don’t even know, do you? You’re just a pawn. Like I was.”

That struck a nerve.

The interrogator stepped back.

“That door behind you,” Haruto continued. “The bolt’s been changed recently. A shoddy weld. Someone broke out, didn’t they? You think you’re in control, but this place is slipping. And you’re just trying to maintain the illusion that someone like me is still manageable.”

The man tried to recover. “You’re delirious. You think you’re smart?”

“I’m not smart,” Haruto said. “You think you’re in control here, but you’re not. The truth is, you’re just a pawn in this twisted game. But I’m not here to destroy you. I’m here to help you.”

The interrogator’s brows furrowed. “Help me?” he scoffed.

Haruto’s grin widened. “You’re scared. But it’s not just your own neck you’re worried about, is it? Emi… You think I don’t know? She’s locked up, isn’t she? They’ve trapped her. They’re going to use her against you – unless you start listening to what I’m saying.”

The interrogator’s eyes narrowed with an almost animalistic snarl. His hand shot out and gripped Haruto’s collar. He pressed a cold knife against his neck.

“How do you know about her? About… everything?” the interrogator hissed.

Haruto stayed perfectly still. “You’re not the only one with secrets,” he replied quietly.

“And I know the Yamaguchi family wasn’t Yukawa’s only mistake,” Haruto added. “So tell me. What’s your real name?”

The interrogator blanched.

Haruto’s eyes gleamed. “Because your jaw tightened when I mentioned Yukawa. Your pupils contracted. You’ve got personal stakes in this, don’t you?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but I do,” Haruto replied. “Because I see it now. You’re trying to find your answers through me. That’s what this whole charade is.”

He leaned forward again. “How does it feel to know that the man you work for might’ve destroyed your life, too?”

The interrogator stuck the knife even closer to his neck. “Shut up!”

But Haruto didn’t resist.

He looked into his eyes and said calmly. “If you hurt me any further, they’ll know you’ve lost control. That you’re emotionally compromised. And if I were you… I’d worry about who’s watching through that camera feed right now.”

The interrogator slowly let go.

Haruto straightened his seat. His lips twitched and before the interrogator could react, a low, almost maniacal chuckle escaped his throat. It was a sound that seemed to echo off the cold walls of the room.

“You think this is about power, don’t you?” he laughed. “But it’s not. It’s about control. And you’ve been nothing but a puppet.”

His laugh intensified as his voice slipped into something cold and sinister. “You have no idea just how deep this really goes, do you?”

“You wanted a confession? Here’s mine: I remember everything. Every person I killed. Every lie I was told. Every piece of their experiment I became.”

He leaned back and stared at the camera in the corner of the room.

“I hope you’re listening.”

The interrogator stood frozen.

Haruto closed his eye and murmured:

“Now… your move.”