(The writing completely fell apart. Read at your own risk.)
The first time Shiyu met Gin, the other man pointed a gun at his head.
But Shiyu just smiled and said, “Your eyes conceal the most perfect aesthetic of destruction.”
In that instant, Gin realized this man was more dangerous than any traitor in the organization.
He was the organization’s youngest high-ranking member, codenamed “Shiyu.”
On the surface, he was a brilliant performance artist. In reality, he was a spider weaving death.
His weapon wasn’t a gun. It was the human heart.
His battlefield wasn’t the street. It was all of Beika Town.
Shuichi Akai? Taken out of action with severe injuries.
Toru Amuro? Blown up with the bomb.
Shinichi Kudo? Fell among the ruins before dawn.
Yusaku Kudo? Ambushed and killed during the final evacuation.
Every opponent believed they were fighting against fate.
Little did they know they were no more than a dab of paint on Shiyu’s canvas.
“Don’t rush to die,” he said with a smile at the ruins.
“Every one of you is a gift I offer this world: a deadly work of art.”
This is the story of a mad artist and a cold-blooded killer working together
to send the entire opposing side to hell.
No romance, no one is saved, and the villains win completely.
[Content warning] Heavy casualties among the opposing side. The protagonist has warped values. If you’re sensitive, don’t read.
Everyone has their own preferences, but I don't like this one very much. It feels like a patient fantasizing about it, but he has actually been killed long ago.