This Japanese Monogatari Isn't Lame
Chapter 390 - 271. The True Self (4000 words)

Chapter 390: Chapter 271. The True Self (4000 words)

At the height of summer, on a night, a flashlight cast a vertical beam, a man carrying something on his back.

That scene, regardless of the movie, was definitely the beginning of a horror or mystery film, catching the attention of Beichuan Si.

It must have been Hinakabe Haru’s memory... or a scene from a recollection.

Under his gaze, Tsuchiya Motomu walked straight into the warehouse, with Beichuan Si following step by step.

Thud.

A muffled sound.

Dressed in a security guard’s uniform, Tsuchiya Motomu roughly threw the object he was carrying to the ground.

Hmph—

A muffled grunt emanated from the black bag.

"Damn it, the cops have started to take notice of me."

Muttering to himself, Tsuchiya Motomu opened the cloth bag.

It was then that Beichuan Si saw what was inside.

It was a girl.

A girl who was somewhat disfigured.

From Beichuan Si’s perspective, he could clearly see the burnt marks at the front of the girl’s short hair, a large patch charred, marks of cigarette burns all over her body, on her face, traces of wax could also be found.

Her back of the hand, her arms, there were bruises from being beaten. Her face swelled up significantly, almost making it difficult for Beichuan Si to recognize her features.

Hinakabe Haru.

Beichuan Si narrowed his eyes, glancing at Hinakabe Haru, then at the face of Tsuchiya Motomu that had turned from docile to ferocious, and took a deep breath.

Hinakabe Haru’s mouth was gagged with plastic tape, she was barely breathing, her large, black and white eyes helplessly looking at Tsuchiya Motomu, helplessly looking at Beichuan Si.

Seeing this expression, Tsuchiya Motomu suddenly pulled out a police baton from his waist, tears streaming down his face for some reason, shouting emotionally, "What the hell do you want me to do?!"

"What the hell do you want me to do?!"

"What the hell do you want me to do?!"

"Nagako!"

Slap! Slap! Slap!

The police baton struck again and again, crisp sounds ringing out upon the girl’s body, her complexion paler by the second, mixed with the sound of pained crying.

Tsuchiya Motomu beat Hinakabe Haru relentlessly with the baton, watching the bruises forming on her body, seeing her curled up in fear, he felt inwardly satisfied and at ease.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! I forgot! You’re not Nagako! You’re just a fake! A fake should have her own place to be! Right! Right!"

Despite Tsuchiya Motomu’s voice sounding delighted, his expression was full of pain.

In the face of the girl’s terror, he fetched the equipment for mixing concrete from the corner.

As mentioned earlier, it would take two to three weeks to check these tools and the piles of concrete; taking these items now wouldn’t attract any attention.

Because in two to three weeks, Tsuchiya Motomu would have already been caught and confessed to his crimes—who would bother about a minor issue like two bags of school property cement going missing?

Woo! Woo, woo!!!

As if knowing what was about to happen to her, Hinakabe Haru voiced her horror, her entire body shaking with fear.

She kept moving backward, but it couldn’t change anything.

Tsuchiya Motomu dragged a waste oil drum, about the height of a man, from the corner and hoisted Hinakabe Haru from the ground before stuffing her into it.

Observing her bound hands and feet, struggling frantically inside the drum, Tsuchiya Motomu laughed uproariously.

The mixer roared.

On this sultry and suffocating summer night, it made only the slightest noise. Plus, these warehouses were remote, no one would notice what was happening there.

Batches of concrete slipped in and filled the drum, while Hinakabe Haru could only use her bruised body to continuously bang against the abandoned oil drum.

But it was useless.

She strained on tiptoes, eyes filled with terror as she looked around, uttering sharp cries.

Eventually, the concrete rose above her neck.

Then over her head, covering it entirely.

In the meantime, Tsuchiya Motomu held the abandoned drum, stopping Hinakabe Haru’s attempts to hit the concrete.

Under Beichuan Si’s watch, he cried and laughed.

The laughter louder than the sobs, the expression was that of an abuser, a humiliator.

Tsuchiya Motomu was indeed conflicted.

He beat Hinakabe Haru while loudly crying out another woman’s name, treating Hinakabe Haru as if she were someone else.

From the tears he shed, Beichuan Si could see Tsuchiya Motomu’s expression, one of pain and distortion, of struggle and ease.

Perhaps he was someone with psychological issues, or perhaps a lack of maternal or paternal love in his youth had created such a person.

Nonetheless, Beichuan Si held absolutely no sympathy for Tsuchiya Motomu.

A murderer was a murderer, nothing else to be said.

"..." Beichuan Si watched the abandoned oil drum that wobbled and slowly ceased its struggling, shaking his head slightly.

He could only watch as Tsuchiya Motomu abused the victim, poured in the concrete, then dragged the drum out to bury behind the warehouse.

Beichuan Si couldn’t imagine what Hinakabe Haru had endured during those forty days.

Nor did he want to imagine how Hinakabe Haru had spent them.

Maybe the former Hinakabe Haru was kind-hearted, but as the tired woman, she became a merciless ghost who killed others.

What Beichuan Si had to do was simple—

He turned his hand over holding Jian Ding, a sudden injection of deadly energy, a pristine chill flitting through the air!