CAR 6

A sudden chill went down Dennis’s spine. The time he had arranged to meet Viollet Dey was slipping further and further away. Dennis, pushing the barre away, placed both hands on the windowsill. He checked above before below, but it was quiet.

Desperately praying that it wasn’t so, just as Dennis looked down at the ground.

“Dennis Kahler.”

Someone swiftly grabbed the nape of Dennis’s neck and slammed him against the windowsill. His crushed left cheek and cheekbone throbbed. Dennis let out a long groan. It was a pain that was impossible to hide.

Dennis, his eyes wide, desperately looked up at his attacker. The first things he noticed were the short pants that revealed the curves of his body and an off-white leotard. The large dancer, pressing Dennis down with one hand and holding the other politely behind his back, looked extremely poised.

The beautiful assailant sneered as he looked at Dennis’s severely bloodshot eyes.

“Why is it that my teacher…”

“…”

“…is present at every scene of death.”

It was Vittorio.

He looked down at Dennis menacingly. His merciless eyes stared alternately at Dennis and the corpse on the ground.

“Do you want to end up like that?”

“…Let go and ask.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Vittorio smiled like a child for a moment. His thumb rubbed Dennis’s right eyelid hard. It felt as if he were fondling his eyeball, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

“You wouldn’t be getting excited over a corpse, I suppose…”

Vittorio, who had come closer to Dennis, reached his hand toward his crotch. Vittorio, who had fumbled between Dennis’s legs a couple of times as if to simply check without any ulterior motive, pulled his hand back.

Dennis’s face turned pale. It was the first time he had been so openly harassed by another man. Dennis had no immunity to this sort of thing.

Vittorio, who was gripping the nape of Dennis’s neck tightly, pulled him to his feet in one motion. Dennis reflexively reached out his hand and clawed at Vittorio’s wrist. Vittorio clicked his tongue and muttered. Pinching like some sissy…

He and Vittorio were so close their lips could have touched. Vittorio, who had been admiring Dennis’s face as if it were a spectacle, blew air on his chin with a whoosh. Dennis, feeling disgusted by the hot breath, lowered his eyes.

Vittorio opened his mouth. It was a merciless voice, devoid of any emotion.

“Relax.”

“…”

“Because when I see you like that, I want to do… something.”

Dennis impulsively spat in his face. The moment the thin, non-viscous saliva splattered on the other’s mouth, Vittorio let out a small burst of laughter, as if he were thoroughly enjoying it. He then stuck out his tongue and licked his mouth greedily.

The back of his neck, held in Vittorio’s grip, was stiff.

“Teacher.”

“…”

“Why are you so stiff only with me?”

Surprisingly, Vittorio used polite language with Dennis, but there was not a hint of respect. On the contrary, the gaze with which he looked down at Dennis, as if he would chew him up and swallow him, was nothing short of irreverent.

When Dennis avoided his gaze and looked down, the grip of the hand holding his neck grew stronger and stronger.

“…Don’t you think there’s an excess of unnecessary physical contact between you and me?”

Dennis twisted his neck to shake him off, but Vittorio did not budge. Dennis, recalling the menu from the student dining hall, couldn’t help but shudder. It was difficult to even fathom how he could muster such strength after eating only those kinds of grassroots.

Vittorio was staring intently at Dennis’s entire body. His gaze, looking down at his head, neck, bent arms and elbows, his fly, and his lower body, was persistent.

“Unnecessary physical contact?”

Vittorio, repeating Dennis’s murmur, let out a sneer. He seemed to be contemplating Dennis for a moment. And this was also a golden opportunity to escape Vittorio’s grasp.

Dennis threw his card.

“Viollet Dey.”

As Dennis murmured that name, a glint appeared in the pupils of Vittorio, who had been lost in thought. Vittorio pulled up the corners of his mouth and smiled silently, like a child who had heard interesting news.

“This afternoon, Mr. Dey reported you to me. Vittorio Bonaparte.”

“Ah.”

“He was so clever, he had even diligently collected evidence of the abuse. When the sun rises, I plan to visit the principal’s office with him…”

Dennis could not continue speaking. It was because Vittorio had seized his jaw. In Vittorio’s large hand, Dennis’s pulse throbbed wildly. Even though he pretended to be composed on the outside, he felt a sense of shame, as if his inner turmoil had been exposed.

“So you were the one who raped Viollet Dey, teacher.”

“…What?”

Vittorio’s eyes were merciless. He was spouting things Dennis hadn’t even done as if they were fact, with such audacity. Vittorio even let out a sigh, as if he were genuinely lamenting, and began to choke Dennis.

“Everyone makes mistakes in life.”

“Let go of this first…”

“Your first mistake must have been Eric.”

“…”

“And then you fucked Viollet, I suppose?”

“Bonaparte!”

“Because he confessed everything to me and then threw himself to his death. He said that Dennis Kahler ripped his leotard to shreds, shoved his unwashed, dirty dick between his buttocks… and that you threatened to kill him immediately if he reported it, and raped him all night long.”

Dennis’s vision momentarily turned yellow. Vittorio, who noticed it with uncanny perception, briefly loosened the strength of his grip. Dennis let out a ragged breath.

Vittorio grabbed Dennis’s bangs. The corners of his mouth, holding back laughter, were humiliating, as if he found Dennis’s flushed, reddish face amusing.

Vittorio placed a short kiss on Dennis’s exposed forehead. Goosebumps erupted all over his body.

“Poor Viollet…”

Vittorio raised his hand. Dennis reflexively closed his eyes. A fierce slapping sound, as if a cheek had been struck, filled the practice room.

However, he felt no pain. Slap, slap, slap… Dennis barely managed to open his eyes.

Vittorio was slapping his own cheek and laughing.

He deliberately put on an exaggerated voice.

“Teacher, please don’t…”

“…”

“In response to his pleas, Mr. Kahler got a hard-on with his blunt dick… Is my testimony correct?”

“…You crazy bastard.”

Showing his swollen cheek, Vittorio was closing the distance to Dennis. Dennis’s eyes darted around busily, searching for a way out other than backing away. Could he throw the ballet barre at him? But as if he had read Dennis’s gaze, Vittorio also grabbed the barre.

Under the moonlight, Vittorio looked like an overwhelming god. Every action he took and every word he spoke was like a disaster. Dennis, a mere human, could not even dare to avoid him. What he wanted, his intentions, were also unclear.

But in this moment, Dennis felt he could understand his inscrutable inner thoughts, just a little.

There was no reason. It was simply interesting to toy with the rat, Dennis, who had invaded his territory, in the palm of his hand.

Vittorio Bonaparte raised both hands into the air. He held up his thumb and forefinger like a camera. Vittorio, who had trapped the slowly retreating Dennis in his hands, was expressionless.

“Kahler, Kahler…”

He called out to Dennis. Dennis was trying to gauge the distance between the door and Vittorio. He was not an opponent Dennis could face in terms of physique. In that case, the only option was to escape when the opportunity arose.

This was also a rather useful method that Quachi had taught him. There was no need to be fair and square in every situation. First, one should take care of one’s own body and then wait for the right moment.

As if to block Dennis’s intentions, Vittorio thrust his upper body forward.

“How should I address you, teacher?”

“…I have no idea what you mean.”

“Whorehouse dog, sewer hole… Come to think of it, I believe I heard a rumor about some old marquis sleeping with his adopted son.”

Vittorio Bonaparte murmured elegantly, as if reciting poetry. He circled around Dennis.

“I am in agony, for I wish to bestow upon you a fitting epithet.”

As soon as Vittorio’s murmuring ended, Dennis kicked off the wall. The moment he tried to pass him, Vittorio’s arm blocked Dennis’s view.

Dennis ducked his upper body for a moment. Then, as if it had been waiting, Vittorio’s knee flew up. The fully bent knee kicked Dennis in the solar plexus.

“Ah, ugh…!”

“Teacher.”

“…”

“We were in the middle of a consultation, weren’t we.”

About your future and mine… Vittorio, who had added that, looked down at Dennis mercilessly. As Dennis twisted his upper body like a crushed earthworm, the tip of Vittorio’s foot stepped on his shoulder, pinning him down.