Tokyo: Rabbit Officer and Her Evil Partner Chapter 564 - 390: Endurance (Part 2)

"Filthy! Filthy! Aunt Li! Co up quickly!" The woman shouted loudly for reinforcents.

The nanny heard the mistress’s call and hurried up to the attic, dropping her chores to ask what was needed. The mistress extended her soft, boneless fingers, pointing to the gap under the bed, and commanded, "Get that slly cat out for !"

Slly cat?

Minamoto Tamako was montarily stunned, and then realized she was perceived as a cat. She still couldn’t get used to this identity; she’d rather be turned into a child than a cat. Why had she beco a cat?

The nanny wasn’t afraid of dirt. She crouched by the bed, reaching in. With nowhere to retreat, Minamoto Tamako decided to take the initiative. She was, after all, an ard criminal police officer. Were it not for her earlier carelessness, she wouldn’t have died three tis. Perhaps it was ti to help Fushimi Roku clean house!

Her face resolved, she reached for her waist—empty. Though she wore the sa clothes as in reality, complete with a holster, her police gun was inexplicably missing.

Could it be that Fujimura-kun’s childhood banned guns? That’s too strange! Don’t boys all love playing with guns!

Minamoto Tamako had no choice but to flee in panic, turning around and crawling like a turtle. The nanny couldn’t reach her in ti and followed her under the bed.

Now she had nowhere left to hide and had to crawl out. That vicious woman imdiately launched herself at her like a malevolent spirit claiming a life, clearly intending to strangle her to death.

Minamoto Tamako didn’t want to die again, nor lose her mory. Regardless of how she looked, she grabbed the lamp and swung it at the wicked woman’s forehead.

She intended only to defend herself but ended up splitting open the evil woman’s head. The lamp shattered, and the woman’s head bled—she collapsed motionless, black hair slowly seeping into a pool of blood.

Huh?

Was that it?

Minamoto Tamako thought the evil woman was formidable. Previously, her grip was as painful as an iron clamp. She never imagined she’d be so easily subdued.

She didn’t feel much psychological burden. After all, it was a dream, and that woman had transcended human boundaries, looking like a horror film protagonist. Even killing her couldn’t muster guilt.

The nanny scread in fear, scrambling out from under the bed to hurry downstairs to call the police.

As she prepared to descend the stairs, the gloomy boy suddenly appeared behind her, forcefully pushing her. The nanny tumbled down like a bowling ball, her body striking the steps and emitting screams.

Minamoto Tamako was startled, swiftly moving over, crouching at the edge of the floor, looking down. She saw the nanny lying motionless in the corridor, arms and legs twisted in a peculiar arc.

She wanted to question the gloomy boy why he pushed the nanny. After all, she hadn’t done anything wrong; she was an innocent victim.

But before she could speak, she saw the mood value above the gloomy boy’s head plumt from red to black, his expression dark enough to drip water.

"Um, what’s wrong?"

Minamoto Tamako was a bit flustered. Technically, Little Roku should be happy, having avenged himself. Unclear about the relationship between Little Roku and the mistress, she guessed he was a foster child; otherwise, he wouldn’t suffer such abuse. Knowing Fushimi Roku’s adult personality, this should have been a mont for him to rejoice.

"This ti, I’ll die too," the gloomy boy said.

"What?" Minamoto Tamako was stunned.

She still didn’t understand what he ant when the attic floor suddenly collapsed, countless dark, twisted shadows flooding in, wrapping around Minamoto Tamako and the gloomy boy. The latter, with a solemn face, said, "With her dead, I have no place to stay."

Minamoto Tamako wanted to respond, but shadows filled her mouth, clogging her throat and windpipe, rendering her unable to make a sound. Desperate to struggle and escape, it was as if she were caught in quicksand, sinking deeper with every move.

Gradually, she suffocated, completely losing consciousness.

She didn’t know how much ti passed before she heard the familiar bell ringing again. Opening her eyes, she saw the gloomy boy holding a cat toy, swaying it back and forth in front of her—every ti she awoke, it was this sa scene.

Ah...

Did I die again?

Hiss...

What did I forget this ti?

Minamoto Tamako racked her brain, unable to recall, finally giving up. Quickly, she tried to communicate with the gloomy boy. Fortunately, the ’Translation Konjac’ still worked, allowing him to understand her.

Upon learning it was the fourth death, and they killed both the mistress and nanny last ti, the gloomy boy’s mood value slightly decreased, turning a purplish-red.

"It was the bell that attracted her attention before. In a little while, she’ll co up... What should we do? How about escaping through the window?"

Minamoto Tamako really didn’t want to stay in this house anymore.

The gloomy boy shook his head, saying, "There’s surveillance outside. If you go out, you’ll die."

"Surveillance? Why would your house have surveillance outside?" Minamoto Tamako didn’t understand. In her impression, surveillance systems were incredibly expensive, with image quality like a mosaic. To achieve clarity, you’d either use film or military surveillance—both prohibitively expensive for ordinary people.

The gloomy boy didn’t bother to explain; it simply was what it was, for no reason.

Unlike Minamoto Tamako, after dying, he had no mory of the previous ti. Knowing the mistress would soon co up, he repeated his old trick, having Minamoto Tamako hide under the bed.

"No, we tried that last ti, and it didn’t work!" Minamoto Tamako didn’t think it was a good idea.

"You were found last ti?" The gloomy boy frowned, his mood value dropping again.

After Minamoto Tamako recounted the previous situation, the gloomy boy’s mood value rose slightly—barely perceptible without an absolute sense of color.

But judging by his expression, he seed angry, his brows furrowed, and the gloomy aura intensified: "Who asked you to ddle? Stay under the bed and don’t co out! She finds it too dirty to check under the bed!"

"But..."

"Are you trying to get killed, or do you want to die again?" the gloomy boy interrupted.

"Then are you just going to let that person beat you? How can there be such a person; it’s despicable to bully a child!"

The more Minamoto Tamako thought about it, the angrier she got. If soone had been adopted, they might be living in this kind of environnt...

Eh, who?

Minamoto Tamako scratched her head, feeling like she had forgotten soone important.

"She’s my mom," the gloomy boy said.

Minamoto Tamako was shocked. She couldn’t imagine there was such a malicious mother in the world: "How could she treat her child, whom she bore with such hardship for nine months, like this..."

"Not nine months," the gloomy boy said.

"Were you adopted?" Minamoto Tamako asked.

"No." The gloomy boy didn’t want to elaborate, pulling Minamoto Tamako by the arm, pushing her under the bed, and warning, "No matter what happens this ti, don’t make a sound!"

Minamoto Tamako wanted to refuse, but seeing Little Roku’s pleading eyes, she softened... It was the first ti Fushimi Roku had yielded to her.

"Alright..."

She lay under the bed, unable to stifle a sigh.

"Pinky promise." The gloomy boy extended his little finger: "No take-backs."

Minamoto Tamako hadn’t expected this childish side of him. In the past, she had begged Fujimura-kun to make pinky promises; now it was his turn to ask her. She should be happy, but thinking about what was to co made her deeply distressed.

Was this the kind of life Fushimi Roku had endured in childhood?

She made the pinky promise, still wanting to persuade him; if worst ca to worst, they could find a way to escape together. But the gloomy boy, crouching by the bed, softly said, "Sorry, please endure with ."

To endure?

But how long must they endure?

Minamoto Tamako didn’t know the answer; she could only remain silent.

As expected, a few minutes later, the woman ca up, her scolding voice accompanied by the sharp sound of slaps. Minamoto Tamako clenched her teeth, covering her ears and closing her eyes, telling herself over and over: Endure, endure, endure...

About half an hour passed, the equivalent of a minute in reality, before the mistress finally stopped. She then hugged the gloomy boy, sobbing and muttering ’sorry,’ ’it’s for your own good,’ and ’I lost control, it won’t happen again’... She cried quietly as she left in a hurry.

The gloomy boy bent down, softly calling out, "You can co out now."

Minamoto Tamako got out from under the bed, glancing around. The room was a ss, books scattered everywhere, high heel marks on the pages, and the gloomy boy himself looked miserable, his face covered with red welts.

This sparked a question in Minamoto Tamako’s mind: Could she really endure this until the end?