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‘Dear Reader,
By the time you discover and read the contents of this note, I shall no longer be around. I have done terrible things, awful things. I do not ask for your forgiveness or even that you try to understand my actions, all I ask for, is your time. My image will quickly be slandered when news of this spreads, be it you or another who shares this note with the media, though I will be long gone by then and past the capability of caring. This is a confession of my crimes and the truth behind my unjust actions.
As a boy, I was raised within the care system; a truly horrid place that lacks love and care. My mother had an affair with a good for nothing man. I am the by-product of a one-night stand. My whole existence is – was – a scandal and my father shall be pleased when he hears news of my death; no doubt I would have become more of a liability than a useful tool by now. You see, dear Reader, I discovered who my father several years ago. I was still a small child then while he was a high-status citizen; someone like me could never be able to confront him seriously, not with how I was. So, I grew up, with hate in my heart and a plan to better myself. Better myself so that one day, I could work for my father and, when I gained his trust, I would whisper bitterly in his ear and reveal my true identity before swiftly ending his pitiful existence.
But, this dreary dream did not come true. Instead, I was thrown into a life of chaos. I was the perfect public image, I put up a façade. I was extremely particular about my life, my grades, my public image, so someone would want me around. But alas, dear Reader, no one ever did. After all, I was a corrupt soul, no one would want someone like that around, would they? My father made sure of such. I have killed countless individuals; Wakaba Isshiki, Principle Kobayakawa of Shujin Academy, the director of the SIU and Kunikazu Okumara, just to name a few. All to get close to my father, Masayoshi Shido. He ordered me, as my superior, to commit such crimes. Blinded by hate and my corrupt dream I did without any hesitation; solving the crimes to build my public image as the ‘Celebrity Ace Detective’ that everyone adored. Would they still adore me if they knew the real me? Probably not.
I have travelled the road of loneliness and in my stead, left a trail of blood that will forever follow me. Someone like me cannot change. Someone like me cannot be forgiven. Someone like me cannot be wanted. Someone like me cannot be loved. No matter who I try to be, my hands will always remain stained by the blood of those who I have ruthlessly killed. I lay awake most nights, sleep deprived. They come to me, their faces shadowed by the cover of night as they stand at the bottom of my bed. I can still hear their screams, their pleas, clawing at my skull, asking why I did what I did. Vengeance seems like too simple of an answer; it sounds… Ridiculous. To snuff out someone’s life as easily as one does a candle flame all for the sake of vengeance. It almost seems humorous.
Between me and you, if you’re still reading, would you grant a dead man’s wish? I know I don’t deserve such, but, if you can find it within your heart, seek out the Phantom Thieves of Hearts. Tell them of this letter, but more importantly, ask them to change Shido’s heart. If not for me, then for those which he has hurt, and will hurt, should he be left to his own twisted ways. Please, this is the only other thing that I shall ask of you.
It is time for me to take my leave now, and in my place, this letter shall be, waiting to be discovered. Maybe, in some other world we could have been acquainted, maybe even friends. But such is not the case. Goodbye dear Reader.
- Akechi Goro’
Akira placed the crisply folded note back down on the table with a shaky hand before scrambling to the front door of LeBlanc and swinging the door open; running into the night. Somewhere, the safety tab of the gun flicked off before the nozzle pressed itself firmly to the temple of delicate pale skin; soft brown hair trapping itself between the red brass and human skin. A slim finger wrapped around the trigger before squeezing tightly. The sound of the gunshot echoed across the enclosed room, the thud of something heavy hitting the ground soon followed. Blood seeped between the dull wooden floorboards, pooling around the very gun that had caused such damage. And, just like a flickering candle; Goro Akechi’s life was snuffed out.