CHAPTER 454: CHAPTER 339: THE DEATH OF FUSHIMI ROKU

In Japanese culture, the words ’go die’ are quite serious, almost equivalent to ’idiot’. If said between family or friends, it almost equates to breaking off relations.

So Minamoto Tamako regretted it as soon as she said it.

She just wanted to express the meaning of "Mr. Fushimi not actively seeking treatment means just waiting for death," like picking the worst option out of two, and not actually cursing Mr. Fushimi to die quickly.

After returning to her room, Minamoto Tamako lay face down on her bed, covered herself with a blanket, her mind in turmoil, not knowing what to do.

Fushimi Roku, on the other hand, didn’t think much of it. In his past life, he would joke with ordinary friends by saying ’go die’, and in his context, the severity of saying ’go die’ was about the same as calling someone an ’idiot’.

He just assumed Minamoto Tamako was being petty and didn’t take it to heart. He knocked on the door proactively and said loudly, "If you admit you were the first to say you like me, then I wouldn’t mind considering making a further effort..."

A voice came from inside the room: "Does that still matter!"

"It matters a lot," Fushimi Roku, seeing she wouldn’t open the door, opened the refrigerator instead to find food and said casually, "Because just now I had a sudden inspiration and thought of a clue to detox. If we can dispel the Nue Poison, we should eventually clarify who fell for whom first, right?"

Upon hearing this, Minamoto Tamako abruptly pushed open the door and rushed into the living room, asking Fushimi Roku what the clue was. The latter stubbornly insisted that Tamako admit it first before he would say.

"How could you, you jerk, what do you take your life for?!"

Minamoto Tamako swung a turtle punch, angrily hitting Fushimi Roku. The latter leisurely twisted open a bottle of milk, planning to eat bread rolls with milk for breakfast, and said casually, "Doesn’t this prove that you liking me is more important than my life?"

Minamoto Tamako paused with both hands, her eyes widened, her lips tightly pressed, and her whole body froze. Her small face flushed red like a boiling kettle, the little strand of hair on her head seemed like it was about to emit steam.

"You, you’re talking nonsense..."

"I-I don’t like you that much..."

"Honestly... Saying such things... don’t you feel embarrassed?"

Her voice grew increasingly faint, pinching the hem of her clothes anxiously.

"So you admit it?" Fushimi Roku ignored his milk, jogged back to the room, took out a tape recorder, and demanded Minamoto Tamako say it again into the recorder, threatening, "If you don’t say it, I’ll die on you."

"..."

Minamoto Tamako’s ears burned hot, her heart pounding violently. She stood by the coffee table, staring at the recorder, feeling like the whole world’s spotlight was on her.

W-what to do...

Do I really have to say it?

What if Mr. Fushimi brags about it later?

In the past, when Minamoto Tamako was in high school and college, she often saw boys in her class boasting, saying things like ’xxx likes me’, ’she’s head over heels in love with me’, ’it’s not joy, it’s annoying’... She detested such behavior and was also worried her future partner might do the same.

If she let Mr. Fushimi record this embarrassing admission, it would be like giving him a lethal leverage, and this recording tape might be kept for decades to even a hundred years.

She could envision it: when both of them were aged and frail, Mr. Fushimi and she leaning on wheelchairs, with their children and grandchildren coming to visit, and a grandkid accidentally asking ’how did grandpa and grandma get together’, Mr. Fushimi would take out the tape, laugh wickedly, and say ’it was your grandma who first liked me back then, she confessed to me and I was in a real pickle whether to say yes’...

Ugh, ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah!!

Just thinking about it terrified Minamoto Tamako. In her mind, this matter was like a naked loan—once you lose footing, you’d face doom.

She hesitated for a long time, huffed, and muttered, "Clearly it was you who said you liked me first. I’m not lying!"

Seeing this, Fushimi Roku sighed, moved the recorder aside, put up some bread rolls and milk, and said, "If you’re unwilling, I won’t force you, let’s have breakfast first."

Minamoto Tamako’s stomach rumbled right on cue—she hadn’t eaten dinner last night, hadn’t had breakfast this morning, she was famished, her stomach glued to her back. If it weren’t for the emotional upheavals of the past few days, she’d already have raided the fridge.

She sat down next to the coffee table, picked up a bread roll, smeared jam on it, and while eating, she mumbled indistinctly, "What exactly are the clues? Tell me first! We can talk about other things later..."

Before she finished speaking, Fushimi Roku suddenly clutched his chest, his eyes rolled back, and he started convulsing all over, collapsing on the sofa.

Minamoto Tamako was shocked, tossing away the bread roll and cradling Fushimi Roku’s head, repeatedly asking what was wrong. The latter, barely breathing, tremblingly extended a hand and said, "It’s... the Nue Poison acting up... pain... it hurts so much!"

"Y-you hold on! I’ll go buy painkillers right now!"

Just as Minamoto Tamako was about to leave, Fushimi Roku grabbed her with a ’won’t live long’ air, delivering his last words: "No... painkillers are useless... I’ve tried..."

"Then-then what should I do?"

Minamoto Tamako panicked. She knew that eventually, Mr. Fushimi would die, but she never imagined it would come so soon.

"I... I just want to hear you admit... you liked me first..."

Saying so, Fushimi Roku burst into a violent coughing fit, spitting out a mouthful of nearly black, viscous blood.

Minamoto Tamako held his hand, the little bit of sweetness she felt earlier vanished without a trace. With tears welling up, she cried, "I-I like you... I liked you first... please, I’m begging you..."