2. Lemon Squeezy (65.5th Time)

 

(0/23)

 

The sixty-fifth game—<Haunted Residence>.

 

In this one, Yuki struggled, just a little bit.

 

(1/23)

 

A blood-soaked woman jumped out from the shadows with a scream.

 

"...Gkh!"

 

Yuki gasped.

 

And—reflexively, she looked down at her left wrist. The monitor wrapped around it displayed Yuki's heart rate, body temperature, blood pressure, and various other vital signs. Because of the surprise just now, all of them were disrupted.

 

Also, a buzzer sound could be heard coming from Yuki's neck.

 

It was ringing from her collar. Calm down—Yuki told herself. She was good at calming down. She possessed a mental structure where the more dangerous the situation, the calmer her heart became. The numbers on the monitor instantly returned to normal values, and the buzzer stopped ringing.

 

"...Safe..."

 

Saying that, Yuki tapped the collar with her fingernail.

 

Since it was a metal collar, a dry clack-clack sound returned.

 

<Haunted Residence>—a game set in a haunted house. There were a massive number of gimmicks prepared to startle people, like the woman from earlier—an extra in this game who had vanished before she knew it. The scares themselves weren't life-threatening, but in exchange, a collar-shaped bomb was attached to the players' necks. It constantly recorded increases in heart rate, sweating, and the players' screams of surprise. If these were detected above a certain level—in other words, if one got excessively scared—the collar would explode. Game Over.

 

"—You're pathetic."

 

A harsh voice was directed at Yuki.

 

Looking toward the voice, there was a player with a massive, bear-like body. She had patchwork paint on her face reminiscent of Frankenstein's monster, and her outfit also evoked the same creature. It was the costume for this game. Since it was a haunted house, they were dressed as monsters.

 

It was Maguma.

 

To Yuki, she was a known player. They had been together in several games, such as <Cloudy Beach>. She was a person with an individualistic playstyle, but this game used a two-person team system, and since Yuki and Maguma's collars were connected by a chain, she was forced to act alongside Yuki.

 

"Come on, let's go, hurry up."

 

Maguma pulled Yuki via the chain. "Whoa," Yuki said as she stumbled forward; incidentally, she was dressed as a monster cat (bakeneko).

 

Yuki followed so as not to lag behind Maguma's brisk pace as she advanced through the haunted house. The chain connecting their collars was only a few meters long, meaning they couldn't separate more than a few meters. In other words, if her partner's collar exploded, she would also be caught in the blast. If her partner was a nervous burden, a tactic could be considered: kill the partner before the collar explodes, cut off their head, and switch to solo play. Since there was no guarantee the individualistic Maguma wouldn't choose that option at any moment, Yuki's heart was feeling chills for reasons unrelated to the haunted house.

 

"I am ashamed..."

 

Saying that, Yuki looked at the monitor on her wrist. This was strictly an auxiliary item and had no relation to the collar's operation.

 

"You're a weird one. We compete against much more dangerous traps on a regular basis. You shouldn't be scared of mere ghosts."

 

"The nature of it is different..." Yuki grumbled.

 

Despite looking like a ghost herself—and despite making a living in a death game—Yuki was bad with horror. She thought it was a strange story herself, but rather than the feeling of danger when a sword or spear came flying, the feeling that something looked dangerous when a zombie or spirit approached felt scarier. Perhaps because it appealed to the imagination. It was the same logic as why novels can sometimes feel more immersive than movies.

 

As they proceeded, another ghost appeared. Breaking through the exhaust vent in the ceiling, several pale-faced children descended. They approached Yuki and her partner with great force, showed off their eerie faces for a few seconds, and then ran away. Although Yuki didn't scream, she instinctively clung to Maguma, and was peeled off by a swing of the woman's arm that seemed incredibly annoyed.

 

"...Maguma-san, why are you so unmoved?" Yuki asked. "Your nerves are too steady."

 

"Who knows. Maybe because I trained in the past?"

 

Maguma put both hands out in front of her, making a gesture like gripping motorcycle handlebars.

 

"We used to do it a lot. Two people sprinting full speed at a wall; the one who hits the brakes first loses. If it's about guts, I won't lose to the guys around here."

 

"Hoh, a game of chicken? You were an idiot in the past, weren't you, Maguma-san?"

 

"...I want you to say I was 'bad'."

 

Maguma said with a dissatisfied look. Judging by her massive body, she must have straddled a correspondingly huge machine. Yuki pictured that figure in her head and—

 

"...Hm?"

 

Somehow, she felt something snag in her mind.

 

In that manner, Yuki got through her sixty-fifth game.

 

(2/23)

 

Yuki returned to the apartment and finished her usual routine. Checking the time on her mobile phone, just like the sixty-fourth time, it was a time slot where she could still make it to school. Nice work, Mr. Agent, she thought, as Yuki changed into her sailor uniform and opened the door to her room.

 

"—Oi! Are you in there!"

 

Then—the landlady's angry roar could be heard.

 

"Lemon! Hey! If you're in the room, open up!"

 

Saying that, she was banging violently on a door.

 

Eventually, the door opened, and from inside the room, a blonde woman came out with a bewildered look.

 

Ramona Squire. A student lodger. Judging by her appearance, she was an international student, but one couldn't tell which country she was from. Yuki, who had never left Japan, had no skill in discerning people's nationalities. Since she sometimes spoke English, Yuki only knew that she was from an English-speaking sphere.

 

"What is it, Landlady...?" Ramona asked.

 

"You paid too much for the water bill this time. I came to return it."

 

You definitely didn't need that threatening attitude just to tell her that, Yuki retorted in her heart.

 

The water bill at Tochinoki-so was a system where the water charges for the entire building were divided equally. Once every two months, the landlady came to collect it herself. Since the amount was told on the spot and handed over, mistakes were prone to happen.

 

Ramona accepted the small change from the landlady. "By the way, Landlady," Ramona said.

 

"I am Ramona. Not Lemon..."

 

"Hah? What did you say?"

 

"Nothing..."

 

Having finished her business, the landlady walked heavily back to her own room. Ramona sighed, and there, she noticed Yuki's presence, who had been watching the whole sequence of events. From a posture of sticking only her head out of the room, she greeted Yuki, who was in a similar posture, with "Good evening."

 

"Good evening, Ms. Lemon."

 

For some reason, Yuki tried saying that.

 

Then, Ramona made a startled face for an instant and said, "...It is Ramona, Yuki-san!"

 

"If you say 'lemon' to a person, it has a bad meaning. It means a defective product, or something useless."

 

Heh, is that so, Yuki thought. It was the first she'd heard of it.

 

"Ah... Is that why you are correcting her so persistently, Ramona-san?"

 

"That is right. And yet, she does not fix it at all..."

 

The scene just now was a good example, but—Ramona was always called <Lemon> by the landlady. The pronunciation was subtly similar. She corrected her with <It's Ramona> every time, but the landlady wouldn't listen at all. She seemed to think there wasn't much difference between Ramona and Lemon.

 

"Is it that easy to mistake? I don't think the pronunciation is that similar though..."

 

"Hmm... I wonder. Could you say them alternately for a moment?"

 

"Ramona, lemon, Ramona, lemon."

 

She felt sorry for her, but it is a little similar, Yuki thought. "They are similar," she stated honestly.

 

"They are completely different."

 

From there, the topic shifted to the difference in pronunciation between L and R. Yuki knew this was one of the difficult barriers in English learning, and Yuki at this moment felt the difficulty that countless Japanese people must have felt. Even having the native speaker explain the difference directly, she didn't understand at all, and finally, saying "I'm sorry, it's about time for school...", Yuki escaped from the scene. The look on Ramona's face, not quite convinced, pierced her heart.

 

(3/23)

 

Today is the day exam papers are returned.

 

The results of the year-end tests taken the other day are coming back. There are no regular classes; school ends immediately after receiving the papers. A school day without classes is a strange thing; it holds a sense of excitement even greater than a simple holiday. Savoring that feeling, Yuki arrived at school and opened the classroom door.

 

Immediately, something eye-catching jumped out at her.

 

"Are you okay?" "Sorry~, it's our fault."

 

Speaking alternately were Hiyori Amano and Kazami Amano. Twin sisters, and Yuki's classmates.

 

The one they were talking to was Hitomi. She was sitting in a seat toward the back of the classroom, resting her cheek on her hand. Her face had red marks here and there—meaning she was covered in scratches—and on each of those wounds, the Amano sisters were trying to apply adhesive bandages. A box of bandages was open on the desk, and trash from wrappers and release papers was scattered about.

 

Yuki approached the three. "Sup," she greeted lightly, and the Amano sisters quickly pulled back. They seemed to harbor fear toward Yuki.

 

"Sup," Hitomi replied.

 

"Something happen? Those scratches."

 

"I got into a fight. With <Red Bear>."

 

"Hoh...?" That's a lot of information, Yuki thought as she replied.

 

"Last week, we went home together, right?" Hitomi added a supplement. "The time I got a weird message on the way and we split up."

 

"Yeah."

 

"When I went there, these sisters were being entangled with."

 

Hitomi pointed at the Amano sisters alternately with her thumb.

 

"I drove them off that time but... they came for a counterattack. Today, while I was on my way to school."

 

"Heh..." Yuki sat in the seat in front of Hitomi. "So, you got beat?"

 

"No way. I won. I knocked them all out. But, there were five opponents... And two more came later. Every one of them had weapons too."

 

That's a disaster, Yuki thought. Even for a former player, that number is a bit tough.

 

In our country these days, one could say that delinquent culture is at its peak. Perhaps due to the stagnant atmosphere drifting through the country, or perhaps due to the tense social conditions, disillusioned youths often formed groups and ran toward delinquency. Dangerous driving on motorcycles, underage drinking and smoking, other drugs, and in terrible cases, robbery and extortion, etc. Such acts were of course all illegal, but unlike organized crime syndicates, there was no law cracking down on their existence itself, so even if arrests were made occasionally, the groups themselves were never crushed. It had become a commonplace situation these days that there was one group with deep roots in each region.

 

The name of the group controlling the land where Yuki and the others lived—Harunire City—was <Red Bear>. They were characterized by being an all-female household and coordinating with motorcycles colored red as if splattered with blood. If you heard the sound of mufflers without silencers in the neighborhood, you could assume it was theirs. It was a name anyone in this region would know, and everyone in this region was a victim, at least in the sense of motorcycle noise.

 

"They aren't supposed to be a bunch that does group retaliation like that though..." Hitomi said.

 

"Is that so?" Yuki asked. She wasn't very knowledgeable about the delinquent neighborhood.

 

"Yeah. Even if they came, they should have come with the same number as before. There used to be a little more class in what they did."

 

"...Class? Is there such a thing as class? For delinquents."

 

"There is. Even in the same evil, there are pure ones and insidious ones. For example..."

 

Hitomi glanced at the Amano sisters for a moment and chose her words.

 

"...Even the <Management> you are indebted to has a strange kind of class, right? It's the same as that."

 

"Ah..."

 

Yuki let out a voice of understanding. Yuki knew well that a pitch-black illegal organization running murder games and the like was, however, not recklessly violent, and on the contrary, sometimes even displayed mercy.

 

"They'll surely come again. Maybe even on the way home today. Maybe I should commute by taxi for a while."

 

To Hitomi who spoke bitterly, "That's rough," Yuki stated an impression as if it were someone else's problem.

 

"This isn't the time to be worried about others, you know."

 

"Eh?"

 

Hitomi pointed behind her with her thumb. Not at the Amano sisters, but at the wall at the back of the classroom. There was a board for posting notices there, and there was one new printout. The tests hadn't been returned yet, but the candidates for makeup exams had already been announced.

 

The name Yuki Sorimachi was dancing there in huge letters.

 

(4/23)

 

Ramona left the building.

 

(5/23)

 

She looked back.

 

A building with a modern design stood illuminated by the moonlight.

 

Next to the entrance, a small sign indicating the facility's name was attached. More than ten kanji characters continued in a row, and Ramona couldn't read all of them. Half a year since coming to Japan, she had become able to manage listening and speaking quite well, but kanji was still hopeless. The English name was of course in her head, but as for the Japanese, she could only barely understand the last three characters—the <Research Institute> part.

 

Although she had the status of a student and usually used the university laboratory, Ramona often came in and out of here for research reasons. If one comes in and out frequently, sometimes one leaves things behind. In this case, it was her bag itself, containing everything from her computer to textbooks. Absentminded as always—Ramona sighed with that feeling. Her family back home often told her that her being able to advance to a doctoral program and do research at a foreign university was a one-in-ten-thousand miracle. She thought so herself.

 

Ramona put her bag on her shoulder and started on her way home. She got on the train, arrived at the nearest station, and just as she had walked for a while,

 

There was the sound of someone running up from behind.

 

(6/23)

 

Yuki was trudging along the night road.

 

She was on her way home from school. In the bag slung over her shoulder were the returned test papers. That was the only load that had increased compared to when she went, but Yuki's steps had become terribly heavy.

 

"...English, huh..."

 

Yuki muttered.

 

Fortunately, the only subject she had to retake was English—to be precise, a subject called English Interpretation. When it came to English, it was a type of subject where one could at least fill in the answer columns, so she had felt like she could do it. But, it was no good.

 

I just don't get it—she thought. For Yuki, English was in that state typical of subjects one is bad at, as if covered in fog. Even if she listened to the class, it didn't sink in at all—or rather, she didn't really understand what was being said—it felt like wandering around the same place forever—that state where one even harbors the hysterical suspicion that the ability to understand this is not equipped in one's brain.

 

Recently, study methods weren't limited to classes and reference books; one could utilize video sites and websites, and Yuki didn't not use such means, but she still felt no response. The problem was likely on Yuki's side. To learn something, first, the learning side must be in the proper state. That is the teaching that the facility called school bestows upon all students at the very least.

 

The date of the makeup exam was one week later. Isn't this bad—that feeling was gradually arising. Just when she thought the player business was going smoothly, to think there was a pitfall like this—. That fact seemed to be unexpectedly shocking to Yuki, and like a slave child made to walk carrying a load disproportionate to her physique, Yuki's steps were heavy.

 

Even so, as she moved her feet and trudged home—

 

"...Ah."

 

A voice leaked from Yuki's mouth.

 

Ahead on the road, she discovered a familiar back.

 

Wavy blonde hair. Tacky clothes. That figure was unmistakably Ramona Squire.

 

The moment she saw her, Yuki gained a flash of inspiration. That's right—why didn't I think of it. An English speaker lives near me. Why don't I just ask her to teach me? Why didn't I think of it until this very moment? Did I unconsciously assume that English as school education and authentic English were different things? No—it might be fact rather than assumption, but Yuki was currently stuck, and there was only one week until the makeup exam. If there is a hand to play, she should try anything.

 

Yuki's steps became lighter.

 

She tried to run up to Ramona with quick steps—

 

—However—one instant faster than that.

 

From the shadows ahead, a group of four in black appeared and ran up to Ramona from behind.

 

(7/23)

 

It was a quick move.

 

Faster than Ramona could sense their presence and try to turn around, a black plastic bag was put over her head. Her vision was stolen by that, and perhaps she panicked, making flustered gestures with both hands in front of her. In that gap, the group of four grabbed her body and took her away. It took less than ten seconds for all four of them and Ramona to disappear into the back alley and vanish from Yuki's field of vision.

 

"Wha—"

 

Witnessing that scene, Yuki could only say,

 

"...Eh, why...?"

 

Just when she thought she found Ramona, she got snatched by some weirdos—because the situation moved one after another, her brain couldn't keep up. If this had been during a game, of course, she wouldn't have been foolish enough to watch with her finger in her mouth, but Yuki on her off days was like this.

 

After about two more seconds, Yuki's head began to rotate furiously. Ki—kidnapping? No, taking someone by force is called abduction, right—? Whatever. Why? Why Ramona-san? Moreover, at a timing like this of all times? There were only things she didn't understand, but anyway, Yuki chased after Ramona. While running into the back alley, she didn't forget to take out her smartphone to call the police.

 

When she got through the back alley, a passenger car loaded with luggage was just about to drive away. It must belong to the group of four from earlier. The license plate—Yuki turned her eyes to it, but immediately thought it wouldn't be valid. It's a car used for a crime, so it's probably forged. It won't be a clue. Yuki moved her gaze a little higher, and—

 

Impulsively, she wound up for a big throw.

 

(8/23)

 

Suddenly, her vision went dark.

 

A plastic bag or something had been put over her. Due to the suddenness, Ramona could only do flustered, meaningless movements. By the time her head became able to deploy calm thoughts, she had already been dragged into a car—her eyes were blocked, but there were numerous clues telling her the situation, such as the feeling of the seat transmitted to her back, the sound of doors opening and closing, a distinctive smell, the engine sound, etc. She understood without even having to use deduction that she had been thrown into the back seat of a car and abducted.

 

Pathetic, Ramona thought. She was just letting it happen. Resist more. It was a display of non-resistance so great it could be treated as unfavorable evidence in court. She had been like this since long ago. When something happened, her body stiffened and she became unable to take appropriate responses. Ramona read from the feeling of the seat that the car started and was accelerating, and only then did she try to remove the blindfold, but—

 

"—Don't move."

 

A voice was heard from nearby.

 

Something cylindrical was thrust against Ramona's temple.

 

"Hey. You know what this is, right? Big sis."

 

She knew. It was a white object (slang for gun/weapon) that one shouldn't be able to possess in Japan.

 

"If you don't want to get shot, stay quiet. We won't treat you badly."

 

As if, she thought. The tone was gentle, but the violent aura wasn't hidden at all. It was a bad person's voice. There is no way things won't go badly if she follows those demands.

 

However, she had no choice but to obey. Ramona froze. She realized the person with the voice—a young woman judging by the vocal quality—began to bind Ramona's hands.

 

(9/23)

 

Yuki returned to Tochinoki-so at full speed.

 

(10/23)

 

At the same time she stepped into the apartment, she threw away her school bag.

 

It slid down the hallway and stopped perfectly in front of Room 107. Outstanding control. For Yuki right now, a stunt of this level was nothing. There was no time to put it in the room, and no leeway to carry it on her shoulder. She had no choice but to leave it in the hallway. No thief would appear in a dilapidated apartment like this, so there shouldn't be a problem.

 

After doing that, Yuki herself ran down the hallway, and stopped her feet not at Room 107—but far before it, at Room 103. Before the sound of friction between the hallway floor and her loafers stopped ringing, Yuki thrust her finger at the intercom button and rang the chime.

 

No reaction.

 

Yuki immediately decided to use the Landlady Method. She banged violently on the door. "I'm coming, I'm coming," a voice was heard from inside immediately.

 

"...What is it, at this hour...?"

 

Saying that, a single girl came out.

 

It was Akane Tsuwabuki. A person believed to be a member of the local delinquent group, <Red Bear>.

 

"...Wait, huh. You."

 

Seeing Yuki, Akane reacted with surprise. She had probably predicted a visit from the landlady.

 

Yuki placed her hands on both of her shoulders. After giving a formal greeting of "Good evening," she stated her business concisely.

 

"Akane-san, you have a motorcycle, right? Can you bring it out right now?"

 

(11/23)

 

The car stopped.

 

In Ramona's subjective time, it was a journey of about thirty minutes. In reality, it was probably shorter. Scary times feel long. At any rate, Ramona was taken out of the car—with that thing thrust against her back—and made to walk. They entered a place that looked like a building, and walked for a while after that too. Since she was blindfolded, she quickly lost her sense of direction. They climbed stairs once, so she only knew she was taken to the second floor.

 

Eventually, there was the sound of a door opening, and Ramona was likely ushered into a room. She felt chilly, stagnant air. Something like a chair was placed against the back of her knees and she was told "Sit," so she did. Only after being restrained here and there with rope as if tied to the chair, rendering her in a state with no hope of escape, was the black plastic bag covering Ramona's head finally removed.

 

As she thought, it was inside a room.

 

A concrete room, of the sort one should say "if you're kidnapping someone, do it here." There were no lights on the ceiling; instead, several small lights like those used at campsites were glowing on the floor. It was dim, but enough light to look over the inside of the room. There were some household goods like a desk and chairs, but no sense of life could be felt at all. It must be ruins. Within Ramona's visible range, there were no windows in the room, and no vents to be found. Even if she raised a scream seeking help with all her might, the voice probably wouldn't reach anyone.

 

—Except for these two in front of Ramona's eyes.

 

"Good work."

 

One of the two said. She was hiding everything except her eyes with a hat and mask.

 

"Tired from the long trip? Take it easy."

 

The other one said. This one was also hiding her features. From the pitch of their voices, she understood both were young women.

 

Ramona remembered that there were voices of four people talking in the car. But there are only two here. Where did the remaining two go? Are they keeping watch in front of the building?

 

"Kidnapping... is it? This."

 

Anyway, Ramona asked. To establish the situation she was placed in.

 

"That's right. Ki-d-na-pp-ing."

 

Imitating Ramona's accented pronunciation, the kidnappers giggled.

 

"I, do not have money."

 

Ramona said.

 

It was a phrase she had considered while riding in the car. When one says kidnapping, the goal is usually money. However, Ramona was not blessed with that thing called money in the slightest. Kidnapping her would yield no profit. She had to convey that.

 

"Please look at these clothes. All outlet... I bought things sold cheaply. I am a poor student!"

 

It was a fact. Everything she was wearing—no, even if she included all her possessions, there should be fewer things bought at the original price. She also knew that <Outlet> is used in Japan to mean a bargain sale. She knew it so well it came out instantly.

 

But, however—speaking of the two kidnappers, they showed a cold reaction. They didn't seem impressed like "I see," nor did they laugh at her accented words like before; they looked blank. It didn't get across—thinking so, Ramona piled on more words.

 

"I have no wealthy acquaintances either! My family is in my hometown, and they are poor too! It is helpless!"

 

Perhaps that flustered state was funny; the two chuckled.

 

"Now, now, calm down," one of them called out.

 

"We aren't planning to snatch from your wallet or anything. We don't care if you're poor."

 

"Right, right," the other agreed.

 

"Even if you don't have it in the form of money, you're holding a golden egg, aren't you?"

 

"...?"

 

"There's a research institute you go in and out of, right big sis?"

 

It switched to the other one. Ramona learned that one called her <You (rude)> and the other called her <Big sis>.

 

"You just have to tell us a liiiiittle bit... about that. Like the floor plan inside, or what kind of experiments they're doing."

 

"Right, right. Even for the little bits, there are people who will pay big money. The knowledge you have is worth more than you think."

 

The <You> one looked toward the corner of the room.

 

A bag was placed there. It was Ramona's. Everyday items like bags, shoes, and wallets are strange things; if there is something different from usual, one can detect it even if it is trivial. She immediately noticed the zipper pull was in a different position than usual. It had been opened.

 

"You had a computer and documents in your bag, right? You have internal info right now too, don't you?"

 

Ramona didn't answer.

 

If asked whether she had it or not, she had it. Just in case, she had stuffed data that wasn't supposed to be leaked outside into a directory that wasn't that deep in her computer, and there were documents printed out from it. Regarding that, they must have seen it already.

 

"........."

 

Ramona felt a chill.

 

Not just—at this situation. As if anticipating this situation, she had been given a warning by the people at the institute beforehand. She was instructed, if someone contacts you, say this.

 

"I have a confidentiality obligation."

 

Ramona recited that phrase.

 

"I cannot teach you anything. If I teach you, I will receive punishment."

 

But, the kidnappers laughed through their noses and said,

 

"Well obviously."

 

"That's why we're asking. We want you to tell us because it's a secret. It wouldn't mean anything if we asked about something that wasn't, right?"

 

At that time, one of the kidnappers started walking. She disappeared from Ramona's vision and came back again. Accompanying that, creating a scrape, scrape sound, something was dragged across the concrete floor and brought over. It was a metal bat.

 

"Metal bats, you know—"

 

Holding the bat in front of her chest, she said.

 

"I thought the insides were hollow. But apparently there are some that aren't. Which one is this I wonder?"

 

"You'll know if you try hitting something," the other one answered.

 

The one holding the bat took a practice swing. Seeming unaccustomed to swinging, her body was carried by the weight of the bat, and she fell. "What are you doing," the other one said, and laughed with the one who fell. It was a laugh between friends.

 

"You're poor, right? You," the kidnapper who got up said.

 

"Then, cooperate even more. If we get money, we'll pass some to you as an information fee."

 

"I have a confidentiality obligation," Ramona answered.

 

"It's fine, isn't it. It's not like you're hurting anyone."

 

Saying that, she swung the bat one more time. This time she didn't fall.

 

"I don't know the detailed circumstances, but. I sympathize with your situation, you know? I'm the youngest of five siblings too, and I had only worn used clothes until I was fifteen. Don't hold back, take what you can get. Right?"

 

Honestly—.

 

Ramona couldn't grasp what she was involved in. They want to steal information from the institute, but who on earth? For what purpose? She doesn't understand well. Probably, these two don't understand well either. They don't look like they know the details. They are likely in a position where they were asked by an unidentified <Someone>.

 

However, at least she understood she was involved in a shady story. Living for twenty-something years as a human, she had some experience being invited to such stories. From luggage theft to shady drugs. And, Ramona's answer was always the same.

 

"I cannot. I cannot help attempt a crime."

 

Ramona continued.

 

"I hear there is a saying in Japan, ill-gotten gains are never spent well. It means money obtained by cheating does not stay in the wallet, right. Therefore, doing this has no meaning. ...I will not tell anyone about what happened here. So please, let's stop!"

 

Ramona observed the kidnappers.

 

They—both of them, gave off a chilled vibe. An atmosphere like they lost motivation. A silence like their fun was spoiled. Which is it—which meaning of silence is it? While Ramona's heart pounded, one of the kidnappers disappeared out of Ramona's vision, and,

 

Immediately after that, from behind, she received a blow from a bat swing.

 

(12/23)

 

Her vision spun. She fell backward.

 

There was no pain. Probably, the leg of the chair was hit. Ramona was tied to the chair, so there was no way she could break her fall. So, she took the impact of crashing into the concrete floor fully through the backrest. The shock went through her whole body. Her heart failed to measure its rhythm for an instant.

 

"Thanks for the lecture."

 

A voice came from overhead. She could see the kidnapper lifting the bat.

 

"But you know! It's meaningless! If things changed just by being told a thing or two, we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place!"

 

Between words, the bat was swung down. Ramona braced herself—to be beaten black and blue, but what was hit wasn't Ramona but the floor nearby. In terms of pain, it was nonexistent, but, every time the bat was swung, every time it made a nasty crashing sound with the concrete floor, Ramona's heart was eroded. I've done it—I touched their reverse scale (wrath).

 

"You're looking down on us anyway, aren't you, struggling student! Let me tell you clearly, yours is a comfortable hardship! It's completely different level from ours! A brat who thinks thinning and pruning inside a greenhouse is <hardship>! Don't spout cheeky nonsense!"

 

"Oi, stop it."

 

And there, a voice of restraint came from the other one.

 

"Don't lose your cool. Did you forget the objective?"

 

"...I know."

 

The one holding the bat stopped her hand. The other one grabbed Ramona's hair and asked, "Did your feelings change with that just now?"

 

"Do you feel like talking? If not, it'll get bad, you know? Big sis."

 

"...I have a confidentiality obligation..." Ramona managed to answer.

 

"Ah-ah confidentiality obligation, take it to the grave, idiot. Big sis, do you know what 'take it to the grave' means?"

 

She knew. It means keeping it a secret until death. Since such words came out, she could sufficiently imagine what would happen next.

 

The kidnapper let go of Ramona's hair. After a moment, the sound of opening the bag's zipper and the startup sound of a computer could be heard. It was from the model Ramona owned. In the empty concrete room, that sound echoed well.

 

"For now, tell us the password?" she was asked.

 

"........."

 

Ramona remained silent. She didn't even say <Confidentiality obligation>. Because if she tried to speak, her voice seemed likely to tremble.

 

"Break her leg."

 

A concise order was given. The other one silently lifted the bat.

 

At that moment, Ramona's fear reached its peak.

 

Like seeing a revolving lantern (life flashing before eyes), various thoughts floated up instantly. Really—really, how far will this go? Will I not be killed? The weight of sin is vastly different between murder and assault, so I often hear outlaws avoid murder too. Does this case fall under that? Even assuming so, assuming I'll be released if I endure, can I accomplish that? I refused flatly, which is good, but the blood has already drained from my face. My leg broken, other places beaten terribly, can I still hold the four kanji of <Confidentiality Obligation> in my head? If I happen to talk—and if I'm released because of that, will I be able to be the same me starting tomorrow?

 

Ramona squeezed her eyes shut.

 

Thinking at least I won't cry, she pressed her upper and lower eyelids together strongly—

 

—Until the sound of a motorcycle could be heard faintly.

 

(13/23)

 

It was truly a faint sound.

 

Is it a mishearing—an auditory hallucination created by Ramona seeking help, she thought for an instant. But, as time passed, the sound became louder, and along with that, the kidnappers' look of suspicion deepened. This sound is reality.

 

Eventually, the sound of the motorcycle cut off abruptly.

 

It didn't seem like it drove away. At the timing when the running sound became maximum, it suddenly disappeared. It stopped. Probably, right near these ruins.

 

"Oi."

 

The kidnapper holding the bat said to the other one. It was only one word ("Oi"), but it contained a thick sense of apprehension.

 

The partner, who likely shared the same crisis awareness, answered, "I'll go look."

 

"If it's bad I'll contact you, so get ready to run anytime."

 

Saying that, she placed the computer on the floor and left the room.

 

The kidnapper who was left behind placed the tip of the bat against Ramona's cheekbone and said, "Hey."

 

"You, don't blab about this to the police or anything. I haven't hit you once yet, and the bag is just as it was. If you talk, you know what happens, right."

 

After mouthing a threat that felt like she just said it for form's sake, the kidnapper began collecting the lights. It was the procedure for withdrawal.

 

Seeing that, Ramona, however, breathed a sigh as secretly as possible so that her presence would absolutely not be sensed.

 

(14/23)

 

The motorcycle stopped.

 

Yuki and Akane took off their helmets.

 

(15/23)

 

In front of the two, ruins stood.

 

It was a large, two-story ruin. A sign was attached to the upper part of the building, and although it was hard to read in the midnight darkness, one could barely decipher <Hotel>. It seemed to have originally been an accommodation facility. There wasn't a single building in the surroundings, only a black forest silent enough to be eerie, and a road where not a single car passed. Naturally, there was no sign of people. The population of wild animals was probably far greater than the human population within a ten-kilometer radius. Secluded ruins—. It is a perfect location for confining a person.

 

There was an old parking lot in front of the building, and one car was parked. Yuki recognized that car. Due to the darkness, she couldn't read the license plate, but the car model and the luggage piled on the roof rack were as she remembered. It was the car of the bunch that snatched Ramona.

 

And—those kidnappers were also right nearby.

 

"Wha..."

 

The ones who reacted with surprise were young girls dressed all in black.

 

"Who the hell are you!" "Where did you come from!"

 

There were two of them. In quick succession, they showered Yuki and her companion with angry roars. There were supposed to be four kidnappers, but only two are here. Are the remaining two inside the hotel?

 

Yuki ignored their angry roars. She hurriedly got off the motorcycle, and

 

"I'm going."

 

She quickly told her companion.

 

"I'll go alone from here. Akane-san, stay on standby."

 

The one gripping the handlebars of the motorcycle was—Akane Tsuwabuki. Despite it being the middle of the night, she had given her a ride here on her bike.

 

"Eh—but..."

 

Akane said while looking at the two in black—the two kidnappers. But Yuki repeated, "It's fine."

 

"Even like this, I'm confident in my brawn."

 

Yuki ran toward the hotel. Naturally, the two kidnappers ran toward her, and one of them grabbed Yuki's shoulder with the words "Oi, don't ignore me—", but

 

An instant later, she was slammed onto the asphalt of the old parking lot.

 

Yuki had thrown her. Perhaps because it was such a quick move, the other kidnapper made a surprised face—seizing that gap, Yuki added an attack to that one too. She put a knee into her stomach, rolled her onto the ground, and stomped on the solar plexus of each of them.

 

"...!!"

 

The kidnappers writhed like caterpillars roasted on a hot plate, fainting in agony.

 

They probably won't be able to move from pain for a while, and even if the pain subsides, their fighting spirit won't return immediately. It should be fine to leave them here.

 

"I leave the rest to you!"

 

Yuki said while waving her hand toward Akane.

 

"Y-Yeah..." Akane replied with a voice mixing admiration and awe, and then, "...Ah, right!"

 

"Yuuki-san, this! Please use it!"

 

Akane removed the smartphone attached to the bike's holder and threw it to Yuki.

 

"Light! You'll be in trouble without it! Yuuki-san, you don't have your own smartphone, right?"

 

Indeed, that was true. Yuki right now didn't have any lighting equipment. She only had the clothes on her back.

 

"Thanks!"

 

Holding up the received smartphone, Yuki replied.

 

"But, it's okay! I can tell even without seeing!"

 

(16/23)

 

While putting the smartphone received from Akane into her jersey pocket, Yuki stepped boldly into the hotel from the front entrance.

 

It was pitch dark indoors, given that it was late at night in a remote area with few streetlights to begin with. A modern person would use the flashlight function of a smartphone, and that's probably why Akane handed over the phone, but it was unnecessary for Yuki. Even without relying on vision, she could <Know> the surrounding environment through an ability integrating hearing, smell, and all senses.

 

By the way—as Akane said, Yuki does not have her smartphone.

 

That thing is currently inside the roof rack of the car parked out front.

 

In short, that's what happened. At that time of the first contact with the kidnappers—when the car carrying Ramona was about to drive away, Yuki threw her own smartphone into the roof rack. Since a lot of luggage was piled up, she thought if she placed it well, it would be carried away without falling out. For that scheme, Yuki's smartphone was used in a way different from calling the police, and so she reached the present without making a report.

 

Recent mobile phones are convenient things; even if lost, one can search for the location. Yuki, who had never lost a smartphone in her life so far, didn't know the specific means of searching, but executed it based on the vague knowledge of <I'm pretty sure there was such a function>—and as expected, she successfully identified the location using the smartphone borrowed from Akane. And so, she rushed over on the bike.

 

Yuki advanced through the ruins.

 

She knew from the exterior, but it was large. There were many rooms, and even with Yuki's insight, she couldn't guess where Ramona and the others were. Yuki decided to take a little risk. She inhaled air to fill her chest and said,

 

"Ramona-san! If you can answer, please do!"

 

A moment of silence. And after that,

 

"...Yuuki-san!? Is that Yuuki-san!?"

 

Ramona's voice. From the second floor. A state where she can answer—means she hasn't been ordered to be silent by the kidnappers. Probably, they are already not in the same room. Hearing the sound of Yuki and the other's motorcycle, they are likely preparing to flee. However, from where? They haven't come to the front entrance. Does that mean there is a back door somewhere—?

 

—And, at that moment.

 

Yuki remembered. The car parked right in front of the ruins.

 

That—it was positioned directly under a window.

 

(17/23)

 

Suou jumped from the second-floor window.

 

(18/23)

 

She landed on the roof of the car directly below.

 

Since the luggage on the roof rack absorbed the impact, there was no pain. The luggage was for this purpose too. When using a building with two or more floors, they made sure to park the car under a window to add one more escape route. It was wisdom to recover well even if they messed up.

 

Suou looked back and looked toward the second-floor window she had just used as an exit. Suou's partner—named Sango—stuck her face out. When Suou peeked outside the ruins, a motorcycle had indeed come, so she contacted her by smartphone to retreat.

 

Suou got off the roof rack and got into the car. The two who had gone out for lookout—named Azuki and Ebina—had already climbed into the back seat. Both had pained faces. Were they beaten by the motorcycle person—while thinking that, at the same time Suou sat in the driver's seat, the entire car body shook with a thud. Sango had also jumped down from the window.

 

At that time, there was a sound of something falling out of the roof rack.

 

It hit the asphalt ground of the old parking lot and made a clattering sound. Even from Suou's perspective in the driver's seat, its identity could be confirmed. A smartphone. Sango the idiot, did she drop her phone—she interpreted it that way at first, but,

 

"It's not mine!"

 

While climbing into the passenger seat, Sango said.

 

While throwing the collected lights into the back seat with a clatter, she added words.

 

"It belongs to someone I don't know! Probably, that motorcycle guy's!"

 

Being told that, Suou looked toward the motorcycle.

 

Since the headlights were on, she could clearly confirm the whole thing. She didn't notice when looking from the second-floor window, but looking closely, it was a red chassis as if splattered with blood, the symbol of <Red Bear>. The rider straddling it—since she had taken off her helmet, her face could be seen.

 

"...Her."

 

A voice leaked from Suou's mouth.

 

The motorcycle rider—was a person she knew. Just like the motorcycle model, regarding this too, she understood the identity for the first time by seeing it up close.

 

Opening the driver's side window, Suou shouted her name.

 

"—Tsuwabuki! What the hell are you doing in a place like this!! Huh!?"

 

Akane Tsuwabuki. A member of <Red Bear>, same as Suou and the others.

 

At that moment, everything connected in Suou's brain. Come to think of it, she was saying something like <The team lately is rotten>. She has also criticized Suou and the others to their faces. So, she came to interfere. Even doing a petty trick like planting a phone in the roof rack.

 

"That's my line, idiot!" Akane said.

 

"What are you guys doing! Doing something so worthless!"

 

Suou tried to retort, but,

 

"Oi, this isn't the time to be bickering."

 

Sango in the passenger seat slapped Suou's arm. Not the shoulder, but slapping the arm gripping the steering wheel probably doubled as a demand to <Drive the car>.

 

"Tch..." Suou clicked her tongue while starting the car. Cutting across the old parking lot, they went out onto the public road. However, the red motorcycle from earlier was reflected in the side mirror. They were being chased.

 

"Oi! Wait!"

 

Pulling up right next to the driver's seat, Akane said. The driver's side window was left open, so the voice reached.

 

"The kidnapped guy, still over there!?"

 

"She is!" Suou answered. "We haven't laid a hand on her either! You better not have told the police!"

 

"I haven't! Should I tell them right now!?"

 

"If you tell them I'll kill you! We haven't left any evidence! It's useless if you report! If you say our names I'll really kill you! Got it!!"

 

Suou swerved the car to the right—toward the motorcycle. Akane dodged it while decelerating the bike. Glancing sideways at the figure of the motorcycle rapidly growing smaller in the mirror, Suou clicked her tongue once more at a grand volume.

 

(19/23)

 

Thus—the incident ended.

 

(20/23)

 

To be precise, it ended without becoming an incident (case).

 

The rescued Ramona didn't have a single scratch, and her possessions hadn't been touched, so there was no motivation to file a damage report. "I won't file a report, so if you're going to do it, please do it yourself, Ramona-san," Yuki said. Being someone with a makeup exam for English waiting, she didn't want to waste unnecessary time. Hearing that, Ramona also said, "No, it is fine." Finally, Akane, who lent a hand in identifying the kidnapping location, also showed a policy of remaining silent, saying "I can't sell out my comrades." Thus, this case saw its conclusion.

 

Yuki decided to fulfill her original objective—getting taught English. Going to Ramona's room, she showed the test with a score embarrassing to show people to her anyway, and asked this and that.

 

"This 'put food on the table' here is... umm, a way of saying that is used often..." Ramona said.

 

"Is it an idiom?" Yuki asked.

 

"That is right. Putting food on the table, means to support a family."

 

"I see. There are expressions like that in Japanese too."

 

The study session proceeded smoothly. When they reached a stopping point, "Um, by the way, Ramona-san," Yuki asked.

 

"Yes."

 

"What kind of research do you do at the university, Ramona-san?"

 

"Eh."

 

Perhaps because she started saying the same thing as the kidnappers, Ramona was startled. Yuki had already heard from her that information on the institute was demanded instead of ransom.

 

"Ah, um..." Yuki hurriedly added words.

 

"Of course, it's okay to keep secret things secret. If you could tell me just within the range you can say, even vaguely. I was just wondering... what theme of research was it that there were people who wanted to hear it even to the point of kidnapping..."

 

Ramona lowered her face and pondered. "Scab..." she muttered eventually.

 

"The thing that hardens blood when you get injured... what do you call it in Japanese?"

 

"Kasabuta?"

 

"Yes, kasabuta. I make it so that scab can form even on bigger injuries. You can stop small wounds with a scab, but you cannot stop them when they become big wounds, right? Therefore, we put in a special substance beforehand to make the repair ability higher. It is research about that."

 

"Heh..." Yuki said.

 

I don't really get it, but I guess it's medical research, she thought.

 

At this time, Yuki's intuition didn't work. Yuki on her off days had some rather airheaded parts, and her head was full of the makeup exam, and Ramona's explanation was blurred,

 

And—she never thought there would be a person involved so close by.

 

(21/23)

 

A certain time, a certain place.

 

Supporter and Endori finished work today as well.

 

(22/23)

 

As usual, strangling the target from behind, making them faint, and carrying them to the car with two people. During the job the other day, the Supporter went to dispose of the body alone leaving Endori behind, but this time she also got in the car. It was because the assassination took place at a time and place where it was difficult for Endori to return home alone.

 

The Supporter glanced sideways at Endori sitting in the passenger seat, and then looked at the rearview mirror. Reflected there on the back seat was the figure of the target wrapped in a hemp sack. Is he dead about now?

 

"Brilliant skill today as well, Eighth Generation."

 

The Supporter called out to Endori in the passenger seat.

 

"...Thanks," Endori replied.

 

"Hey. I think I've said this many times."

 

"What is it?"

 

"That 'Eighth Generation' thing, can't we do something about it?"

 

"Then, how should you call me?"

 

"Normally, like Endori or Yashiroi."

 

"Impossible. To be so familiar with the heir of the head family. I cannot think of a title lower than Eighth Generation."

 

"........."

 

Muu, Endori scowled.

 

The Supporter raised the corner of his mouth on the side she couldn't see. Knowing Endori disliked it, he sometimes called her that on purpose.

 

This job was a request from the game's <Management>. The target was a military-related person. They were sniffing around about one of the management's confidential technologies, <Preservation Treatment>, and it was annoying, so they wanted him disposed of. A technology that quickly stops bleeding like forming a scab no matter what the injury—certainly, that would be something those who fight would want so much their hands would reach out from their throats. Any number of nasty uses can be thought of. However, the Management, who is only interested in the <Game>, would never allow that.

 

"Ah, by the way, about the other request," the Supporter said.

 

"It seems we will be executing it. When I checked the site earlier, the donation reached the target amount."

 

"Yeah. Understood," Endori replied.

 

It was decided to do it—that referred to that request he reported the existence of to Endori the other day. That request targeting a person Endori knew; the requester was an individual, not an organization, and the fee was raised in the form of a donation—or crowdfunding in modern terms—on a dark site. Since there was only a request and the fee hadn't been paid, the order was switched with this job.

 

"However, what should we do..." The Supporter scratched his head. "This target, their lifestyle is irregular. Where should we do it."

 

The difficulty of constructing an assassination plan differs greatly depending on the target's lifestyle. Like the salaryman the other day, if they pass the same route every day, it's easy. Conversely, like the next target, in a case where we don't know where they are or what they are doing and they rarely even return home, planning is extremely difficult. Now, what to do—.

 

While talking about various things, the car entered a mountainous area. It was almost time for the body disposal point.

 

"Hey," Endori said.

 

"Yes."

 

"Is this job fun?"

 

"Eh?"

 

When the Supporter looked sideways at Endori, Endori was also looking at the Supporter. It was a serious gaze. It was an atmosphere where he had to answer seriously.

 

"Let's see... It is fun, relatively," the Supporter answered.

 

"What parts?"

 

"The thrill of absolutely not getting caught and such. It's like a stealth game; isn't it interesting?"

 

"...What's a stealth type?"

 

"Eh."

 

That's right. This person has never played electronic games. While tackling the difficult task of explaining a genre to a person who doesn't play games, the Supporter drove the car along the mountain road.

 

Even the Eighth Generation is a girl of that age. Maybe it's a time when she thinks about various things, the Supporter thought.

 

(23/23)

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