Ryunosuke Uyu considers himself an artist.
He has unshakable enthusiasm, an open-minded and optimistic attitude, and a deep curiosity and thirst for knowledge. The only thing that bothers him is society's prejudice.
Because the "art" he pursues is death, and in this, he holds extraordinary fanaticism. Sure, bloody and violent movies are always popular entertainment.
But don't you think they're too monotonous? Watching fictional death from a safe distance, using reason to shrink and conquer that tiny flicker of fear?
From a very young age, Ryunosuke Uyu was extraordinarily sensitive to the truth and falseness of death. No matter how much fiction tried to paint it, he couldn't feel anything from it.
Death is something you can't actually experience while alive. And even if you try to extend the process as long as possible, what's that compared to the massive six-billion-long tapestry of human life on this planet?
So, to experience the essence of death, to feel the pain and despair of victims up close, Ryunosuke Uyu became a murderer.
There's nothing like taking life with your own hands to truly recognize a human being. Compared to the millions of anonymous dead, simply reduced to numbers in a cold statistic, the deaths you yourself create are valuable, creative. They're transcendence. They're the art of death.
However… even now, he's fallen into the common misery shared by many artists: fading passion.
Even after digging up an old family grimoire that claimed to summon demons, even after running the ritual himself, nothing happened, maybe the circle was incomplete, maybe the chant was wrong, but no matter what, there was no reaction.
Still, out of curiosity and faith in his family legend, Ryunosuke decided to stay in Fuyuki City until the very end of the "summoning window" recorded in the book.
But, as if blessed by the gods, that morning, while out wandering, he met someone.
There was something missing about that person. Something outside of society, an attitude of indifference to everything, a mechanical self-discipline without the slightest pursuit or desire, and that was so cool.
Ryunosuke Uyu was deeply curious: was this person's inside as striking as his outside? He wondered, what kind of experience would it be to kill someone like that?
Would it be like those others, people who pretended to be tough at first, only to break down and beg for mercy after a few more punishments?
Or would this person face death with the same cold eyes, calmly watching pain and despair roll in?
Just thinking about it made Ryunosuke's creative urge surge wildly.
He couldn't wait to make his move.
---
"Roland senpai, where do you want to go for drinks after work?"
The man who was addressed didn't respond.
Roland leaned lazily in his chair, calmly trimming his nails with a pair of clippers, his expression so focused it was as if he were defusing a bomb, like any moment might be his last.
When the last nail was clipped, Roland gave a small satisfied sigh. "No. I'm going straight home after work."
As if on cue, the shop manager outside called out that their shift was over.
Only then did the faintest smile appear on Roland's face. He stood up and left without hesitation.
"Just one drink… Senpai!"
Like a lovesick puppy chasing after his crush, Ryunosuke hurried after him, but Roland didn't even glance back.
"Ahh, so cold…"
Watching Roland's departing back, Ryunosuke sighed dreamily.
The store manager beside him chuckled, a voice seasoned with experience. "You'll get used to it. Roland's always been like that. He doesn't let people in. We shouldn't expect too much."
"Is that his life philosophy? Cool!"
Ryunosuke grinned. He'd made the right decision coming to work here, this man had far more artistic value than ordinary people.
He had to have Roland!
Ryunosuke clenched his fist, determination blazing.
---
Later, a new colleague asked:
"So, Ryunosuke, want to grab a drink tonight?"
"I'd love to," Ryunosuke scratched the back of his head sheepishly, "but I've got housework piling up. I left a mess last night, gotta clean it up today."
"Ah, what a shame. Maybe next time."
After the casual small talk, Ryunosuke Uyu left the convenience store.
But in the shadows of the corner, a pair of cold eyes were watching.
Being targeted by a perverted killer?
Good thing I'm one too, Roland thought calmly. Otherwise, I might've really fallen for that act.
Unlike Kotomine Kirei, Ryunosuke Uyu was a ticking time bomb, a dangerous presence that couldn't be left unchecked. Keeping someone like him close would only invite disaster.
For the sake of a peaceful life, he needed to be erased.
Using the knowledge and instincts honed by Yoshikage Kira's experience, Roland followed Ryunosuke Uyu at a distance so subtle no one would notice.
Before long, Ryunosuke arrived at a remote private home. He pulled out a keyring, fumbled a little awkwardly, and finally unlocked the door.
"I'm home!"
Like a wanderer joyfully returning, Ryunosuke called out cheerfully.
But no lights turned on, and no one answered in the dim, shadowy room.
As he groped for the light switch and flicked it on, a grotesque sight greeted him in the middle of the living room — two corpses, twisted together into one horrific shape.
"Ah… they were still alive this morning…"
Ryunosuke let out a wistful sigh. Then, without hesitation, he set about his heavy cleaning tasks, erasing the unnecessary traces of the artist, leaving only the pure work behind. That was his guiding life philosophy, his "art outside the law."
"Let's start with the cleaning tools," he muttered, moving carefully. But when he glanced up, he noticed something, a tiny gap in the entry door, which should have been firmly shut.
A pale, well-shaped hand was gripping the edge from the outside, keeping it open.
Cold fear flooded Ryunosuke's heart.
He hadn't even realized someone had been following him!
The entranceway was still shrouded in shadow, like a dark cave hiding a beast. But Ryunosuke didn't hesitate. He grabbed the bloodstained blade he was about to clean and charged toward the entrance.
No matter who it was, they had to be dealt with.
Compared to death, the idea of being imprisoned, unable to hold his tools, unable to create his art, was far more terrifying.
Like a cheetah, his slim frame exploded with astonishing speed, reaching the doorway in an instant, and then, like an artist cruelly caught by fate, he was seized by the throat.
Something invisible but unshakably real clamped around his neck and lifted him into the air.
Ryunosuke kicked and thrashed helplessly, his face turning blue and purple, dark fingerprints blooming across his skin.
What… is this?
No matter how wildly he swung the knife in his hand, he couldn't strike the invisible monster.
It was only one hand, yet it lifted a full-grown adult effortlessly.
Who… was it?
As his consciousness began to fade, Ryunosuke's eyes bulged wide, desperate to see the figure slowly emerging behind the door.
Fortunately, the visitor didn't intend to hide his identity.
"Hello, Mr. Uryu. I'm truly sorry, you just helped me the other day, and here I am troubling you again tonight."
Standing at the doorway, Roland spoke in that same cold, detached tone as when they first met.
"But this time, it's different. What I want to do to you… is exactly what you wanted to do to me. So, I suppose you have no complaints."
With a faint smile, not waiting for any reply, Roland gave a silent signal.
The Killer Queen raised its free hand.
And then, a sharp, lethal hand strike pierced straight into Ryunosuke Uyu's heart.