That Time I Got Turn Home

"Wait a minute… we actually ran all the way to the area where I used to live!" Scarlett smiled.

It wasn’t completely an accident—her feet had just moved on their own, guided by old habits and muscle mory.

In front of them was a slum-like area, completely different from the bright and bustling city of Tokyo. The tall buildings, neon lights, and crowded streets were nowhere to be seen. Instead, there were narrow alleys, small houses with peeling paint, and old shops with faded signs. The air slled different too—like damp concrete, rust, and the faint scent of cheap street food.

This place was underdeveloped, mostly filled with lower-class people struggling to get by.

And how could it not be?

Scarlett had once been one of them.

She had lived here with just her small family—her alcoholic father, who had lost most of his property to drinking and gambling, and her mother.

Scarlett still had a smile on her face, but it wasn’t a happy one.

It was hollow.

Because this place held more bad mories than good ones.

anwhile, Irish had a completely different reaction.

"Ugh… are you sure we’re in the right place?" she wrinkled her nose in disgust, looking around like she had just stepped into a trash dump.

Scarlett chuckled. "Of course! Let’s keep moving."

Irish hesitated before following. "I thought you were so kind of royalty or sothing…"

Scarlett only laughed lightly at that, not bothering to explain.

Watching Scarlett’s expression, Irish quickly picked up on sothing. It was subtle, but the way Scarlett smiled while looking at this place… it wasn’t the usual playful or confident smile she always had. It felt different.

"I… should probably not dig any further," Irish muttered to herself, deciding to drop the topic.

As they walked deeper into the neighborhood, people began to notice them.

Many stopped in their tracks, staring as if they had just seen ghosts. So whispered to each other, while others just stood frozen, watching in disbelief.

"Are they so kind of celebrities?" one man mumbled, his jaw slightly hanging open. His heart pounded wildly as his eyes locked onto Scarlett. "That purple-haired woman… she has a blindfold on, but she’s walking like she can see just fine. She must be a hunter or sothing!"

His friend, who was standing next to him, leaned in and whispered, "Should we follow them? Maybe I can try my luck!"

But the first man imdiately shook his head.

"No way! Just look at them! They’re beyond our league. And what are two beauties doing in a place like this? Sothing’s definitely off… We should stay out of it!"

He gulped, quickly looking away, pretending he hadn’t been staring.

anwhile, Scarlett and Irish just kept walking, completely unaware of the small commotion they had caused.

Scarlett finally stopped in front of an old, worn-down house. The wooden walls were cracked, there were holes in the roof, and the whole place looked like it could collapse at any mont.

"Here we are," she said, walking toward it.

Irish hesitated, looking at the house with disbelief. "You lived here?" she asked, but Scarlett didn’t respond.

So of the neighbors peeked out from their balconies, watching curiously. Whispers spread among them, but Scarlett and Irish ignored them completely.

They walked up to the door. As expected, it was locked.

Scarlett didn’t even hesitate. She simply pressed her finger against the lock, and with a small snap, it broke apart like it was made of tofu.

They stepped inside.

Imdiately, the sharp sll of alcohol hit them. It was as if the walls themselves were soaked in liquor.

Scarlett looked around. Broken wine bottles lay in the corners, their jagged pieces still untouched after all these years. The walls were covered in stains, scratches, and so areas even had holes punched into them.

The house wasn’t big. There was no separate kitchen, just one main room that served as both a living space and a cooking area. Then there were two small bedrooms—one for her parents and one for her.

Scarlett stood still for a mont, her eyes slowly scanning the place.

mories flooded back.

She could almost hear the clinking of bottles, the shouting, the sobbing. She could see herself, standing in the small kitchen, gripping a knife with trembling hands.

This was where she had killed her father.

She turned her gaze to the floor—the exact spot where her mother had taken her own life. She could still rember how her body had lain there, lifeless and cold.

A strange mix of emotions stirred inside her. Nostalgia, disgust, emptiness.

"What a nostalgic yet disgusting feeling," she thought to herself.

The mories were painful, but as always, her eyes remained dry. No tears ca.

"If I had just cried that day… maybe I wouldn’t have beco this tearless person," she thought bitterly.

Taking a deep breath, she walked toward a certain wall.

This was where the family photos had been placed.

But the mont she looked at them, her eyes widened behind blindfold in shock.

Every single photo—every portrait of her family—had her in it.

That wouldn’t be strange if she had always been Scarlett. But she hadn’t.

She used to be a teenage boy.

Yet, in every single photo, it was Scarlett.

Her childhood self, her teenage years, even her thirties—exactly how she looked now.

The pictures were exactly the sa as she rembered. The sa monts, the sa backgrounds… but instead of her past self, it was Scarlett in them.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached out, touching one of the fras.

"Wow… Honey was so cute when she was a kid—"

Irish’s voice was filled with excitent as she looked at the photos. But before she could finish her sentence—

BAM!

Scarlett’s fist smashed into the wall, shattering the fra into tiny pieces.

Irish flinched in shock. "W-What the hell!?"

Scarlett gritted her teeth, her whole body shaking with anger. "Those bastards…" she muttered under her breath.

She knew exactly who had done this. The ones who kidnapped her, turned her into a girl, and tortured her for six months.

She clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. "Just enjoy your lives untill I find you."

Taking a deep breath, she grabbed another portrait and carefully removed the paper photo from the fra. She stared at it for a mont before swiftly tearing away the part where her father was. She only kept the part with her and her mother.

"I got what I wanted. Let’s go—"

But just as she turned around, before she could even finish her sentence, she froze.

Irish had suddenly pulled her into a deep kiss.

It wasn’t a kiss filled with passion or lust. It was soft. Gentle. Warm.

Like she was trying to comfort her.

Scarlett’s body tensed at first, but then… she slowly relaxed.

After a mont, Irish finally pulled away. She cupped Scarlett’s face and looked into her blindfolded eyes.

"I don’t know what happened in your past," Irish whispered. "But I can’t stand seeing you sad."

Scarlett’s lips parted slightly, but she didn’t know what to say.

"Forget about your past and look at —your present. We’ll be happy together." Irish smiled and kissed her again, this ti even softer.

Then, as she pulled back, she started unbuttoning her shirt. "Let

console you," she said with a teasing smirk.

But before she could go any further, Scarlett quickly grabbed her wrist.

"Not here, idiot!" Scarlett’s face turned slightly red.

Scarlett clicked her tongue, turning her head to the side. "Tch. I still have one more place to go," she said, trying to ignore the warmth in her cheeks.

Then she took a deep breath and steadied herself. "We’ll continue this after we get back to our apartnt," she said in a firm voice.

Irish grinned. "I’ll hold you to that, Honey~"