Metoya Translation

3. Inner Turmoil (73.5th Time)

(0/42)

Shiro hung up the phone.

He let out a breath. "Phew."

(1/42)

It had been a longer conversation than he anticipated. The plan was to chat briefly, get Yuki to join "The Secret Society," and be done with it—but the conversation had drifted into discussing "Perks" as well. When he checked the call duration, the number displayed on the screen was large enough to be generally considered a long talk. A sense of fatigue matching that number appeared in Shiro's jaw and throat.

However—despite that effort, it couldn't be said that it was accompanied by results. He had asked what needed to be asked, revealed what needed to be revealed, and Yuki’s suspicions toward Shiro should have been dispelled. Yet, regarding the matter of joining "The Secret Society,"

"Let me think about it."

That was how she answered.

"......Why?"

As a natural expression of his feelings, Shiro asked.

Honestly, he was a little irritated at that moment.

"Do you still suspect me?"

"No, it's not that... I don't know, there's just something that sticks in my mind."

Doesn't that mean you suspect me? Shiro thought.

"It's like I haven't fully grasped the situation yet, or my policy isn't set yet... I want to take time to think it over properly, so could we keep it on hold for a while?"

"......Understood."

Although he didn't really accept it at all, Shiro answered that way.

"I don't want to pressure you, so please, take your time to consider it. Once your conclusion is set, Yuki-san, please contact me again."

"Yeah. I'll do that."

And with that, the call ended. Staring at the silent mobile phone, Shiro let out a sigh. "Phew."

She's unexpectedly indecisive, he thought. He had expected her to make a decision more cleanly, but when it came down to it, her response was hesitant and wishy-washy. Is that person really the strongest in the circle? Or perhaps, is it because of that? Is it because she is exceptionally suspicious and heaps caution upon caution that she has survived longer than anyone else?

Well—be that as it may, it is undoubtedly a step forward. Before, she said "I'll pass," but this time it's "Let me think about it." It is a more active phrase. Little by little, he is making her attitude more positive. If he works on it patiently, eventually, he will be able to bring her over to his side—Shiro was someone who preferred to get things done quickly, but in this regard, even if he has to bend his principles, he must work on it deliberately.

Because she is a key person indispensable to the plan—.

(2/42)

If one were to express the human being known as himself in a single word, it would be "Gaki" (Starving Ghost), Shiro thought.

He is starving. Incessantly. A hunger that is never filled and a thirst that is never quenched. That is what has constantly driven Shiro since he was born—he was born into a reasonably distinguished family, the house was large and had assets, and he was in a position where he could have gotten through life without any problems just by eating and sleeping. However, such things did not satisfy Shiro's hunger in the slightest. He wanted more. He wanted something overwhelmingly huge, something that would satisfy me.

At first, he sought it in soccer. His playing style was so hot-blooded it was said he sweated blood, and while he achieved unparalleled results, that excessive hot-bloodedness became a disaster; one day he severely beat a coach, and that path was cut off.

Having lost a place to pour his passion, Shiro was wandering the city in a sullen mood when he met a specialized scout agent. She apparently knew about the violent incident Shiro had caused, and with the inviting words, "There is a place suitable for someone like you," she invited Shiro to the world of games.

The stage for his first participation was a competitive game themed around a mafia conflict called "Underrealm." Shiro was not easily shaken by minor things, but—this surprised him. A real killing game. A world where young girls scattered their lives like flowers. Nevertheless, if it was a "battle," that was Shiro's field of expertise. Rousing his innate competitive spirit, Shiro faced the game. Perhaps due to his experience in the harsh competitive world of soccer, Shiro mowed down other players, survived, and was able to advance through the game successfully.

However—as he did so, gradually.

Shiro's inner world began to show a strange pattern.

He realized that he was beginning to feel a sense of calm in this world—. A world where bullets flew, screams never ceased, and white, fluffy gore clung to his body; he felt it suited his heart. A calmness that seemed to rise silently from the depths of his soul, as if he were in his mother's womb, or as if he had done the same thing in a previous life, filled his chest.

Thanks partly to that sensation, Shiro was able to clear the game and survive, but in exchange, he was terribly flustered. It wasn't just—due to the shock of participating in a killing game. He felt fear at his own nature, which adapted to the game so easily and even felt a deep calm. He wouldn't say he hated this kind of thing. He was hot-blooded, and he had committed a violent incident. There was even a part of him that was a little proud of that self. But, this was indeed abnormal. He remembered what he did in the final phase of his first game. He sliced open an enemy's chest with a rugged hunting knife, grabbed the heart with his bare hand, pulled it out, and killed him. Shiro's heart felt joy in that act, and at the same time, he was terrified of himself for feeling that way.

That terror eventually turned into suspicion.

What am I? What am I, to rejoice in such things?

(3/42)

Shiro decided to search for his roots.

It was the first time he had felt such a desire. He didn't know the past. The now, and the future. He had always lived thinking those two were everything. He knew his family home was a reasonably historic and distinguished one, but seriously digging into it—that was a first.

Shiro's real name is Kurari Shiro. The Kurari family has been the leading family of a certain regional city for generations. Owning a conglomerate topped by a holding company with the straightforward name Kurari Holdings, they have deep roots in that city not only economically, but also politically and culturally, wielding great power. It was understandable that Shiro, born into such a clan, was a lump of desire and competitive spirit, but that didn't explain that sensation he felt in the game world. There is something more. There must be something in my bloodline.

Thinking so, he continued his investigation of his family home, but—however, facts that would answer Shiro's doubts were not found, even after searching the Kurari household from corner to corner. Local dignitaries. That was all. As for shady aspects, at most, they had some association with local crime syndicates.

Shiro expanded the scope of his investigation to relatives—and at one point, he learned of an abandoned house in the suburbs of a city within the Kurari family's sphere of influence. It seems a man who was the most eccentric in the clan, the older brother of Shiro's great-great-grandfather—in other words, his great-great-granduncle—lived there. Not only was the person himself unknown to Shiro, but even the word "great-great-granduncle" was new to his ears. In any case, since the person's death, the mansion had been uninhabited and barely managed; the building had rotted away, weeds grew freely in the garden, and the asset value of the land itself was now almost nil, turning it into a useless white elephant. Honestly, Shiro didn't expect to find anything there, but since he was feeling stuck in his investigation, he visited the old house with half the motivation of just needing a change of pace.

Then, there, he obtained an unexpected harvest.

From an old building in a style rarely seen in modern times, he was able to discover several documents in an even older style. The ancient book he showed Yuki the other day was one of them—although he couldn't understand most of the content, even the small parts he could understand showed a deep shadiness. Those documents excited Shiro greatly. He was convinced he had found a clue. Shiro decided to investigate these documents further.

However—he was unable to do so.

After leaving the mansion, on his way back.

Shiro was kidnapped.

(4/42)

He knew immediately that it was the work of "Management."

Because the "car model" and the "attire" were the same. As Shiro was walking down the street, a black car stopped on the roadway beside him, and several staff members in black suits got out. Unlike his first game—the time of "Underrealm"—there was no question of "Are your preparations complete?"; they pulled Shiro's arm as if no questions were allowed and dragged him into the car. Furthermore, they administered a liquid-type sleeping drug from a syringe, not a pill type, again as if no questions were allowed, and put him to sleep.

When Shiro woke up next, he was indoors. It was a bleak room with only one desk and two chairs. It was reminiscent of the interrogation rooms often seen in dramas and movies. Shiro was sitting on one of the chairs, wrapped in rope and tied down.

And, across the desk, another person was sitting.

It was a child. Appearance-wise, it was hard to judge if they were an elementary or middle school student. They had an androgynous atmosphere, but probably a boy. His line of sight was at almost the same height as Shiro's. Since it was unlikely a child would have the same sitting height as the tall Shiro, he must have adjusted the height of the chair or placed a stand on top of it.

"Hello," the child said.

"Kurari Shiro, correct?"

"......Yes."

He hesitated a little, but Shiro answered honestly.

"And who might you be?"

"If it's just the name, perhaps you have already heard it," the child prefaced before answering.

"I am Kuron. Neither surname nor given name, that is my only name."

It was a name he didn't know. At that time, Shiro did not yet know that it was a name whispered among players.

"I serve as the manager of the operation of the 'Game' you participated in the other day."

So, he received an explanation from Kuron.

However, being told this in a child's voice, it was hard to believe immediately.

"You don't look old enough to serve as the top of an organization," Shiro asked.

"My apologies for that. I would have loved to appear in a dignified form, but I just recently succeeded the position. Pardon me for this appearance."

It was a flat way of speaking. The tone of voice was that of a child, but the phrasing was mature.

And it didn't feel like a child stretching to act like an adult. For example, like a nurse who stabs a needle into a patient's arm without changing expression—or like a judge who flatly pronounces a grave sentence—there was a scarcity of emotion that comes from long experience of that sort. For such a thing to be possessed by a young child was truly eerie.

"What is your business?" Shiro said.

"Surely, it isn't an invitation to the next game."

"No. The reason I called you is... well," Kuron thought for a moment, "honestly, let's just say I called you in a rush."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, actually, even I am undecided on how to handle this. Cases like this were not passed down from my predecessor... To begin with, until recently, I didn't even acknowledge that someone like you existed."

It was a confusing story. Shiro furrowed his brows.

"Do you have a family tree at home?" Kuron asked.

Not knowing what the topic was, Shiro answered. "We don't, but I have looked into the family register."

It was the first thing he did when searching for his roots. Under the current system of this country, one can trace the lineage back about one hundred and fifty years. To go back further than that, one needs to hire a professional in that field to investigate various documents, and of course, Shiro had already issued a request, but there seemed to be no records left, so there were no favorable results.

"Among the ancestors at the limit of where the family register can trace, there should be a person named Kokonoe Tsuzuji. Am I mistaken?"

"Why do you know that?"

"Is he there, or is he not?"

"......There is no mistake. He is there."

"Looking from my perspective, that person corresponds to a great-grandson."

Without breaking his flatness at all, Kuron said.

"Conversely speaking, a person named Kokonoe Kunitatsu, who corresponds to a great-grandfather from Tsuzuji's perspective—that is my form when captured in a social framework. In other words, there is a blood connection between you and me. You are a direct descendant."

Because it was said so calmly, Shiro was at a loss for a reaction. He couldn't return any words.

Ignoring such a Shiro, Kuron counted on his fingers using both hands. "......Hmm."

"A descendant ten generations later, in total? Is there a name to express such a relationship?"

"......Are you saying... you have succeeded my ancestor's name?"

Shiro asked.

Naturally, that must be it. A person from generations before Shiro—could not possibly be alive. Nor could he be this boy. It is reasonable to understand it that way.

"There is no problem with you thinking of it that way," Kuron answered.

"The reality is a little more complex, though... Well, that is not the main issue. The problem is that you are an existence we must be conscious of."

Kuron turned his eyes, which were round and childlike only in appearance, toward Shiro.

"A direct descendant of the General Manager of 'Management.' I never thought such a thing existed. Moreover, apparently, you are doing quite well, aren't you?"

"......You said you didn't acknowledge me. Why?"

"My predecessor didn't pass it down... No, maybe my predecessor didn't acknowledge it either? Perhaps even the first generation didn't know. Kuron didn't seem interested in family. I'm not impressed with myself. Making children when having no interest in family."

It was an incomprehensible answer, Shiro thought. Probably, he didn't intend to make him understand. Kuron's tone was almost like a monologue.

"However, I remembered the surname Kurari," Kuron continued.

"I try to look through the profiles of new players... In there, I found you. Thinking 'it couldn't be' at the surname Kurari, I investigated... and that is the story. I am happy to meet you, my descendant."

Actually, there is still no proof. This person named Kuron is just saying it.

However, he intuitively understood that this was the answer Shiro had been seeking. My god—to think my ancestor was involved in such an illegal world.

"It seems I am not the only one surprised," Kuron saw through Shiro's inner thoughts.

"Well, I suppose so. It's odd for me to say it, but it is an illegal organization. You must be quite surprised."

"......It is a scary thing. Fate, that is," Shiro managed to form words.

"To think a connection that was once broken would be revived in this form..."

"I agree."

"—Those ancient documents," Shiro switched the topic.

"Are they related to your activities?"

"......Ah... Those," Kuron answered. "Right, there was that matter too. ...Let me ask you in return, where did you find those?"

"From a relative's old house. Though it had already turned into ruins."

"I see. Well, it's not strange that they remained..."

Kuron paused for a breath, and then,

"As you have guessed, those were issued by us. Or should I say... by a group that we stem from? The form of the organization has changed variously with the times. By the way, were you able to read the contents?"

"No way. I couldn't make heads or tails of it."

"If you could read it, it would surely be interesting, that stuff."

Kuron smiled thinly.

"Among them, especially the flyer... perhaps it is better to call it a leaflet now... the content of that will be interesting to you. If you like, shall I translate it into modern language for you personally?"

"Is that alright?"

"Anyway, it's something you can find out if you investigate," Kuron said. "However, it would be a little troublesome if it were brought to some agency in the process. There is a risk of our activities being exposed. It's not that we couldn't forcefully confiscate it out of fear of that, but we cannot rule out the possibility that you have already taken photos and sent them to someone, and forcibly touching individual assets is not our style. In that case, I decided I might as well tell you the contents of the documents myself."

Besides, Kuron continued.

"Doing so—might be a good stimulus to move the human known as you."

Kuron directed a gaze that seemed to see right through him.

Just slightly, Shiro's pulse rate increased.

"I don't know many things about the human known as you," Kuron said, holding his gaze. "However... I think, surely, you are of a nature with exceptionally strong desires. You want to do something huge. You want to be big. You cannot forgive yourself for not being so. To be ordinary, to not be special, is an unbearable disgrace to you, and you want to resolve it even one day sooner. You live every day with such feelings. Is that not so?"

While being careful not to let his emotions show on his face, Shiro answered. "Why... do you think so?"

"Because I was like that too. If you draw my blood, it is no wonder you feel the same gloom."

Shiro looked into Kuron's eyes.

Looking at them like this, he realized they were similar to Shiro's own eyes. The glaring eyes peculiar to the Kurari family people. Eyes that are proof of excessive desire.

"Now, let us talk then," Kuron said.

"About the content of those documents. About what kind of game we are in the middle of playing—"

(5/42)

Thud.

Shiro tossed the documents onto the living room table.

(6/42)

It was the ancient book he showed Yuki the other day. Since then, he had left it in his living room, and when he had a little free time, he would pick it up on a whim.

Shiro stared at the ancient book lying slightly askew where it had been tossed on the table. Looking at this reminded him of that time. Right after he became a player. The time he discovered this at his relative's old house. On the way back, the encounter with an unexpected person—. Shiro was in a slightly special position compared to other players. He was a direct descendant of the founder of "Management," and he had heard about the privileges of the ninety-ninth clear directly from him.

Of course, Shiro did not swallow Kuron's statement whole but verified the information. Shiro's agent, people in peripheral industries, the "Audience" of the game, retired players, etc.—after hitting up every related party he could and becoming convinced that it seemed likely true, Shiro was tackling the game.

Being Kuron's descendant brought Shiro no particular benefits. Or rather—except for that conversation, there were none. After that, there was no contact from Kuron at all, nor did the difficulty of subsequent games seem to lower. No favoritism, it seemed. That kind of act—making the game unfair—seemed to be what "Management" hated most. Shiro, who currently marked thirty-two clears, was conquering all games by his own power, and he built his support system, "The Secret Society," completely on his own too.

And of course—he intended to get through this dispute on his own as well.

The intercom rang.

Shiro did not move. Even if he didn't go out of his way to answer, there was a servant in his house. From the direction of the hallway, he heard the pattering footsteps likely belonging to Kokone, and after that, the sound of the front door opening. The sound of someone taking off shoes and coming up, the sound of Kokone and that someone exchanging light conversation, and the footsteps of someone approaching the living room. Only then did Shiro move his gaze to look toward the entrance of the living room.

A young woman entered the living room.

She was a girl with a plain impression. She was wearing Hanfu, and its hem was long enough to touch the floor. It strongly evoked some Chinese-style "Princess" like Orihime or Otohime. She liked this kind of attire. She might be conscious of character building. After all, she is a "Princess."

Awahime, she is called.

He doesn't know her real name. But she is Shiro's associate. A member of "The Secret Society"—at least, still is.

Shiro was careful never to take his eyes off Awahime as she walked toward him. Doing so was essential. After all, she could vanish suddenly from right in front of one's eyes—she, who was apparently the so-called "shadowy" type in her student days, considers erasing her own presence her greatest special skill. The walking technique that "The Secret Society" developed and spreads among players—she is the original holder of it, and that is precisely the cause of the dispute.

Fortunately, he did not lose sight of her. Awahime sat on the sofa opposite Shiro, and the two were in a position facing each other.

"It's been a while, Awahime-san," Shiro said.

"I am happy to have the opportunity to talk."

"I hate beating around the bush."

Awahime said without a greeting.

Awahime prefers this way of speaking, minimizing words.

"I am the same," Shiro answered.

"So, I will state my demand plainly. ...Three hundred million yen. With that, I will sheath my sword."

"Don't say such ridiculous things."

Shiro leaned his weight onto the sofa.

"On what basis did you come up with that number? Well, I can roughly imagine though..."

"You stole my life. It is an amount suitable for that compensation."

Was the lifetime earnings of this country about that much? Two hundred million or two hundred fifty million; his impression was that these kinds of numbers had quite a range. Perhaps no reliable large-scale survey had been done—perhaps because Awahime's statement was too ridiculous, Shiro ended up thinking about things unrelated to the main topic.

"I cannot pay it," Shiro said.

"Even if I am a player, such an amount..."

"That can't be true. You have such a large house and land."

"Are you saying I should sell it? ...Even then, it wouldn't be enough. I'm using it for various things."

"If you can't pay, you can defer part of it," Awahime said. "After you fulfill your plan, you can pay the rest. It should be cheap, compared to the 'Perks' you will obtain."

"It seems the discussion is deviating from the main point," Shiro retorted. "It was never a story of whether I can pay or not from the beginning. The amount is not the issue. It is a question of morality. I do not pay for things I am not convinced by."

"You're the one going against morality!"

Awahime slammed the table.

"It was supposed to be a promise to spread it only within the team! That's why! I taught you! And you! You spread it without consideration!"

Awahime slammed the table again and again.

With each of those threatening acts, Shiro's heart grew colder. Not the cold of fear. It was a cold coming from contempt and annoyance.

"Is that banging intended as intimidation?"

Waiting for the right moment, Shiro said.

"Do you understand the meaning of the gesture? Intimidation is only effective against opponents who are violently weaker than yourself. Is that what you think?"

"............"

Awahime stopped abruptly.

And—in the next instant.

She vanished.

He should have been paying attention—but he failed to track her movement. Where? Where did she go? Just as Shiro shifted his gaze left and right,

Awahime's hand came out from under the table and grabbed Shiro's ankle.

His ankle pulled, Shiro was dragged under the table. Under the table—though, since it was a low table just right for the height of the sofa, there was no space for two humans to be underneath. Pushed by Awahime's back, the table was immediately shoved aside, leaving Awahime and Shiro grappling. Since Awahime was on top and Shiro was on the bottom, Shiro was forced into a disadvantageous fight. Meanwhile, Awahime took out a sharp-tipped knife from her pocket and tried to introduce its point into Shiro's body—

However, at that moment.

Several crows flew to the two of them.

To be precise, it should be said they flew to Awahime. Because those crows made only Awahime the target of their attack. One stabbed at Awahime's hair, another at Awahime's cheek, and another at Awahime's eye with sharp beaks or pecked at her.

Awahime swung down the hand holding the knife while brushing away the crows with one hand, but barely a moment before that, Shiro was able to escape from under Awahime. The knife cut the air and pierced the carpet laid under the sofa and table. It was never pulled out. By that time, Awahime was already full with defending against the crows' attacks.

"......Don't think you can deceive me with this!"

Awahime still shouted at Shiro.

"I'll come again! Until I receive what I should receive, I will not back down!"

Saying so, Awahime jumped behind the sofa.

Immediately, Shiro also went around the sofa.

But, she had suddenly vanished. Only the several crows that had been attacking Awahime were there. The crows also seemed to have lost sight of Awahime and were looking around restlessly. They didn't look unlike they were at a loss.

A bang sound was heard from a little distance.

It was the sound of the front door opening and closing. Considering the timing, it must have been Awahime. Seeing the situation was bad, she retreated.

However—how on earth did she move to the entrance? It was like teleportation. He had been surprised by her skills often in the past, but he felt the dread of it anew. It was a contraption too mysterious to call a technique. "The Secret Society" created the walking technique referencing her skill, but it is nothing compared to the original technique.

If she felt like it, she could take Shiro anytime—

"—That was close, Boss."

A voice stopped Shiro's thoughts.

Right beside Shiro, a girl with a villainous face was standing. She was extending her arm horizontally, and a crow was perched on that arm.

A member of "The Secret Society"—Takami.

"Thank you."

Shiro said.

He had had her watch the earlier meeting from the shadows. To intervene immediately by flying crows if it turned into a rough affair.

"What you gonna do? Boss," Takami asked.

"She said she'd come again, that one."

"Indeed..."

"If you slip her some money, I think she'll quiet down."

Takami took out a small case from her pocket. The contents were pet food. It was for dogs, but since crows are omnivorous, there was no problem. Takami fed the crow perched on her arm.

"You heard too, Takami-san. I cannot pay," Shiro said.

"You don't have to pay the whole amount. Well, maybe three or four thousand... Just slip it to her calling it 'settlement money.' She'll accept that. That kind of type is surprisingly good at knowing when to quit."

"I wonder," Shiro thought suspiciously. "Even if she accepts it momentarily, won't her dissatisfaction reignite after a while? Even if we obediently paid the full three hundred million, once we achieve the plan, wouldn't she come saying 'give me a share'? In my estimation, that is the kind of breed she is. A scoundrel who skillfully justifies herself, puts on a victim's face, and goes around loudly shouting unreasonable demands."

"So, you're gonna fight to the end."

"No. I think it is better to make it into a form with no loose ends."

"Meaning?"

"Not settlement money—I will pay a commission fee."

"............"

"That will be cheaper and more reassuring."

Shiro took out his mobile phone. "Actually, I have already spoken to a 'Contractor' beforehand..." he said.

"It's arranged so that with one contact, they will immediately start the 'job.' It's a contractor whose selling point is quick work. They should send her to the netherworld within an hour..."

Shiro operated his mobile phone to contact that "Contractor."

"Takami-san. You are still tracking her location, right?"

"Yeah... should be," Takami answered.

"I have the crows automatically follow anyone who enters or leaves this building. I don't know where Awahime came out from, but they should be chasing her properly. Arrangements are set just as you requested beforehand."

"The cameras?"

"That too, properly as requested. I asked Dokutake, and cameras are attached to the crows' necks. I feel like you should ask her for details... but, did you assume this situation?"

"Yes, I did."

Takami exhaled in a way that was like a whistle but not quite a whistle.

"Hey, Boss," she said.

"What is it?"

"Me, y'know, I've hated humans for a long time."

"I know. Because you hate humans, you became an animal handler, right?"

"But, I like you."

Takami made a villainous smile on top of her already villainous face.

"Wonder why? ...Maybe because you're heartless?"

That is unexpected, Shiro thought. Takami sometimes has this twisted way of looking at things. He got along with her well enough, but he didn't like that point very much. Putting a little irritation into his voice, Shiro answered, "What are you saying?"

"This is a natural measure. I am just passing the logic that needs to be passed."

(7/42)

Leaving Shiro's mansion, Awahime walked the night road.

Her head was filled with dissatisfaction. "Brusque" probably described Shiro's attitude—unforgivable. She didn't like that her demands were not respected in the slightest.

She told Shiro "I'll come again"—but, no matter how much they talked, Shiro wouldn't change his opinion. He is that kind of breed. A type of scoundrel who doesn't have the thought of searching for a compromise and tries to get through all negotiations by just acting aggressive.

Discussion is meaningless. She has no choice but to resort to forceful measures.

Threaten Shiro by some method and demand money. What would be best? Kidnap Shiro himself, or a member of "The Secret Society"? That might be a bit too simple-minded. Shiro must predict that Awahime would think that, so Shiro and the people around him must have tightened their guard. Even if she succeeded in kidnapping someone from "The Secret Society," with that cold-blooded Shiro, he might easily abandon one comrade. That's no good. She needs to grasp something more decisive. What on earth would that be?

"—Yuki, huh."

Awahime muttered.

She had heard that name before she became estranged from "The Secret Society." A key person indispensable to Shiro's plan—it would be best to contact her.

It doesn't mean detaining her person and demanding ransom from Shiro. She won't do such a thing to Yuki who is unrelated to this matter. She seems to be a very skilled player, so it would be difficult even if she tried.

Rather, in this case, just contacting her can become a negotiation card. After all, Shiro is in a state of proposing a deal to Yuki. Awahime contacts her there. And she tells her in detail about the atrocious treatment she received from Shiro. If she conveys the dark side of the human named Shiro, that he is a brute not worth trusting in the slightest, what will happen? —KABOOM! Game over. If she threatens Shiro flashing that future of ruin, he must accept Awahime's demands.

Awahime knew Yuki's address. Because she had heard about her from Kokone during a chat. A girl with a ghostly atmosphere. Sloppy appearance, always wearing a jersey. Despite being a skilled player and earning a lot, for some reason, she continues to live in a dilapidated apartment called Tochinoki Manor; that was Kokone's assessment.

Awahime took out her mobile phone. She typed the name of the apartment into the search form and looked up the location.

(8/42)

By the way, at this time, Awahime had two miscalculations.

One was that at this very moment when Awahime was looking up the location of Tochinoki Manor—there was a group of crows watching her overhead. High-priced small cameras, where the price per gram exceeded platinum, were tied to the crows' necks, and they were constantly transmitting high-resolution figures of Awahime matching that price to Shiro and the others.

Of course, these are crows trained by Takami. Awahime does not know that she can do this much. Even though they are members of the same "Secret Society," they don't know all of each other's skills. It was something she could have predicted enough if she used her imagination, but whether Awahime didn't think of it because she was trembling with anger, or because of the habit of those confident in their skills unconsciously underestimating others' skills.

And, the other miscalculation was that she believed she was the one on the offensive. Even if there was a counterattack from Shiro, Awahime thought there would be at least a few days' grace period. However, the assassin team Shiro paid the commission fee to was a fast worker of Shiro's preference. A group that makes quick work their biggest selling point, and where peers usually take days to weeks to complete one job, they finish in a day or two. If given information about the target beforehand, that period becomes shorter, and they handle the request in just a few hours.

Therefore—this matter will see a conclusion within the day.

(9/42)

The chime of Yuki's room rang.

(10/42)

Yuki, having finished the phone call with Shiro, went to school and came back. She placed her bag containing textbooks for third-year students on the desk, changed from her sailor uniform into a jersey, and then, just as she let out a sigh of relief, the chime rang.

When Yuki opened the front door, an old woman was standing there. The landlady of this apartment—Tochinoki Manor. Her appearance gave the impression of a typically grumpy old hag, but Yuki knows she is not as unpleasant a person as she looks. She has a rough personality, and during the recent "Red Bear" disturbance, she bravely stood up to a group of delinquent girls with kitchen knives in both hands.

"Food's ready. Come on."

The landlady said.

She had heard beforehand that there would be a dinner party. Yuki followed as the landlady walked, and visited her room, Room 101.

There were already two girls there. One was a girl with a tiny body like a small bird, Encho Yayoi. The other was a girl possessing a rich height in contrast to Encho, Ramona Squire. Neighbors of Tochinoki Manor, and these two including Yuki, three people, are all the tenants of the apartment.

Encho and Ramona were sitting by the table placed in the center of the room. It is a low table of the type that can be converted into a Kotatsu in winter. Various tableware was lined up on it, and in the center, like the main keep of a castle, a pot placed on a portable stove sat imposingly. When the landlady took the lid off the pot, steam rose thickly, and the smell of chili peppers pricked Yuki's nose. It seemed to be a spicy type of hot pot.

Yuki and the landlady also sat in the vacant spots by the table. After exchanging greetings appropriately, one or two words, they started the dinner with the signal "Itadakimasu."

This kind of thing happened occasionally.

At a pace of once or twice a month, a summons is received from the landlady, and a gathering is held. It is a regular event of Tochinoki Manor.

However, the aspect was quite different from before. Before, she would just call them out and preach, but recently, like this, she has started treating them to dinner. There seems to have been a change of heart in the landlady. Yuki also has a rough guess as to the cause inside her.

Because, this March—that is, at the time of the changing fiscal year, this happened. When Yuki and the others were called out by the landlady and were being preached to as usual,

"Um!"

Akane shouted.

Tsuwabuki Akane. A former resident of the apartment and a delinquent girl who belonged to "Red Bear."

"I want to move out," Akane said.

"......What?" The landlady answered, looking as if it were unexpected.

"I'm sorry for causing trouble the other day. Thank you for everything for a long time..."

The "other day" mentioned here refers to when Akane and Yuki had a dispute with "Red Bear." According to what Yuki heard at that time, Akane is advancing to a university in a neighboring prefecture. Therefore, it is just a story of moving because this apartment is inconvenient for commuting, but something seemed to have been conveyed wrongly to the landlady. She seemed to think she was leaving because she came to hate this apartment.

To avoid the number of residents decreasing any further, the landlady resorted to a retention policy. Stop the preaching, and treat them to food instead. Probably that's what it is, Yuki guessed, and Ramona and Encho had the same view. Well, from Yuki and the others' perspective, it's lucky to get a free meal, so they are partaking in the meal without particularly clearing up the misunderstanding.

While listening to a late-night show with low tension flowing on the room's TV, Yuki puts chopsticks into the pot. Hot pots are things where the majority of ingredients are occupied by vegetables, and it was the case for this pot too. Since Yuki has a diet unrelated to vegetables, she thinks to supply as much as possible on this opportunity. Transferring a heap of Chinese cabbage from the pot to a serving plate, moving it from the serving plate into her mouth, and washing it down with Oolong tea after it had absorbed the spicy soup well, Yuki remembered there was something she should say.

"Or rather, it's a bit late to say this," Yuki started. "Thank you everyone for matching your time. It's quite a late time for dinner..."

"Ah. I don't mind."

With her gaze still toward the TV, the landlady answered. Encho and Ramona also nodded back as if to say there was no problem.

The current time is 10 PM. It is extremely late for dinner. Due to night school, Yuki's body only becomes free at this time zone at the earliest.

"By the way, Yuki-san,"

Ramona asked.

"Regarding the test, were there no problems?"

"Ah... yes," come to think of it I haven't said it yet, Yuki thought, "thanks to you, I was able to advance to the next grade safely. Thank you."

"No, no."

Crossing the fiscal year, Yuki became a third-year student. She had to take a makeup exam in English and her advancement was in danger, but she managed to get through it with the aid of Ramona, an English speaker.

A series of conversations ended, and for a while, everyone picked at the pot. At a timing with no particular prelude or anything, Encho opened her mouth saying "By the way."

"Ramona-san. In English too, do they call it 'Stamina Cuisine'?"

"Yes?" Ramona answered.

"About this pot... We call this kind of spicy pot and such 'Stamina Cuisine.' Do foreign countries have that kind of calling too?"

"I don't hear it... There are foods that are seen to increase stamina, though."

"For example, what kind?"

"For example... green tea, beans, chicken, unrefined carbohydrates, etc."

The lineup is a bit different, Yuki thought. Just like foods good for the body. It's probably Japanese-made English.

"I've heard the word 'Power Lunch' which is close, what is that?" Yuki asked.

"Power lunch is... a lunch taken when having a business meeting. It is completely unrelated to stamina cuisine."

It was a loose conversation. Conversations during meals tend to become loose.

"Come to think of it,"

At such a time, the landlady said without prelude.

"I'm thinking of quitting being a landlady soon."

"Eh..."

At the serious topic suddenly thrown in, Yuki and the others were at a loss for words.

"Well, I'm getting old," the landlady continued. "It's getting tough doing everything myself, so I'm thinking of leaving it to a management company."

"Ah, so that's what it is..."

Ramona said. This apartment is currently under the landlady's 100% self-management.

"Besides, you know, I don't know when I might collapse and die. At that time, if it remains self-managed, I'd cause a panic for the relatives inheriting it. Better to put in outside hands."

"Don't say such ominous things..." Yuki said.

"Ominous or whatever. Humans kick the bucket eventually."

Like this, mixing too heavy topics and too light topics moderately, the dinner party proceeded.

Of the four people here, no one knows yet.

That there is a car approaching this apartment.

(11/42)

Awahime went to the main street and caught a taxi. Opening the address of Tochinoki Manor on a map app, she told the driver "To here." "Aye," the driver, an old man, answered in a practiced tone and started the taxi. After some time had passed,

"Customer, you're young."

He spoke to her.

"Are you a student?"

Awahime felt annoyed inwardly. Not limited to taxis, but hair salons, clothing stores, Awahime is not good with professionals of the type who speak to her. For an introverted human like Awahime, conversation costs enormous cost.

"No," she shook her head.

"I do a job I don't really want to tell people. Please guess."

"......Ah, like that..."

The driver peeked at Awahime's figure through the rearview mirror, and

"Well, that's it, isn't it. If you say you don't want to say it that's fine, but in today's world, there's no nobility or baseness in occupations. Don't worry about it."

To the words he probably spoke just somehow, Awahime also answered just somehow, "Thanks."

No nobility or baseness in occupations, huh. Words that are like a representative of empty compliments. The existence of such a maxim itself is proof that many humans are intensely conscious of it. While saying so as a facade, everyone wants to become a noble person. And those whose wish did not come true spend their whole lives with miserable thoughts. Given a stingy ration that doesn't resemble what they really wanted, they have to hold it dear because it can't be helped, find meaning in it somehow, and live on. Awahime hates this kind of world.

That Awahime is a lowly citizen was surely decided from the moment she was born. She didn't have the brain to place complex concepts under recognition, she ran out of breath easily if she exercised a little, her hands were clumsy and she didn't have the sensibility to be moved by art, and she couldn't behave socially to secure a place in a group. There was nothing that could be called a strong point, and she simply thought she didn't want to do life in such a vessel, so from some time, Awahime started trying to erase her existence. Not being noticed by surroundings, not attracting attention, erasing presence to get through everything was Awahime's art of living.

That eventually transformed into a special skill. If Awahime felt like it a little, no one could notice her existence anymore. She independently developed a stealth walking technique where no sound occurred and even wind didn't rise no matter how fast she moved, she trained to immediately read the area that became a blind spot from others' gaze and enter it, she had plastic surgery on her face and managed her physique, adjusting her body to look as inconspicuous as possible. She used many other techniques too, but she herself didn't really know how much it totaled. Although she verbalized some of it when providing technology to "The Secret Society," the majority had become Awahime's blood and flesh, and was highly habitualized to the point she didn't even catch it in her consciousness anymore.

It was the first thing for Awahime that could be called a special skill.

By acquiring this, freedom increased a little in Awahime's life. She was no longer looked at strangely even if she went out in sloppy attire, if she saw a nasty guy in town she could secretly trip him up, and when the product in her hand didn't match the contents of her wallet, the option of taking it home without accounting was born.

While she was enjoying playing such silly games, there were two types of emotions in Awahime's heart. A secret sense of superiority that no one can notice me, and a sense of inferiority asking if I only have talent for such things. Caught between these two, Awahime felt her personality, which was already distorted, distorting further.

It was then. That she learned of the game world.

When she was taking a walk in the city—of course when she wasn't "erasing" herself—she received a scout. A killing game world. It was a surprise that such a thing existed, but Awahime's skill worked without problems even in that world. I might have found my calling, she thought. She acquired a special skill, obtained a place to belong, and harbored a faint expectation that my life might start turning well from now on.

But—it didn't happen that way.

"......?"

At that moment, Awahime furrowed her brows in the back seat of the taxi.

She felt a little sick in her chest.

That was how Awahime's intuition worked. When she had a bad premonition, it came to Awahime's chest. Looking back, she confirmed the vehicle behind through the back door. However, just with that, she understands nothing.

She thought she was worrying too much, but just in case, Awahime called out to the taxi driver. "Um, excuse me."

"Aye."

"I'll pay extra, so could you speed up with full power? I'm in a hurry."

"I don't mind but... why?"

"Also, please be careful not to enter back roads as much as possible. Drive only on the conspicuous parts of the main street. Please."

"So, why?"

"Just do it."

(12/42)

Several tens of meters behind that conversation—.

In a certain car, a man clicked his tongue.

(13/42)

"......She might have noticed."

The man sitting in the driver's seat said. He is a huge man with a voluptuous physique.

"What?"

The man in the passenger seat asked. He is a tiny man whose feet don't touch the floor of the car. Holding a smartphone horizontally, he is playing an app game.

"The target, obviously," the big man in the driver's seat answers. "She turned back this way. Probably noticed she's being chased."

"No way. We aren't tailing her that persistently. She can't know."

"I wonder about that."

There was a voice from the back seat.

A third man was lying down there. He was a lanky man who looked cramped even with two seats' worth of the back seat.

"This target is a player of a killing game, right? Her survival instincts must be sharp. Just us getting close, and she senses it."

"It's the end of the world, isn't it—that there are folks paying money for such things," the tiny man says. "Well, our client is a good match too though..."

The men are running a business of so-called hitmen.

Moreover, they are earning quite a lot. Fast, cheap, rough. With these three points as a sales pitch, they are receiving more jobs than their peers.

The peers seem to have old thinking and it's no good, the men thought. In the hitman circle, old business customs were rampant, there were still many operators employing a hereditary system, commission fees were unreasonably high due to bid-rigging among such operators, and they were strangely obsessed with disposing of without leaving evidence so the work was slow. The men changed that. They accepted requests at a fair price, and emphasized getting the job done quickly even if it was somewhat rough. As a result, they became an existence one step ahead of their peers.

That quick work style can be said to be reflected in the current situation. Despite not even fifteen minutes passing since they formally accepted the request from the client—a tall woman called Shiro—they gathered personnel, gathered necessary tools, and are tracking the target.

"Maybe we should open the distance a little,"

The lanky man in the back seat said.

"Even without tailing in a visible position, we know the target's location, right?"

"Yeah."

The tiny man in the passenger seat operated the smartphone he was holding.

An image was displayed on the full screen. It was a shot of this street from the sky. The taxi the target is riding and the car the men are driving are also clearly reflected in it.

This footage is provided by the client. Apparently, they are filming with cameras tied to crows' necks. It was the first time they received information provision by such a rare method, but if they reference this, they can know the location without tailing by direct sight. The men moved the car to a side road, escaping the target's field of view, yet continued the pursuit.

After about twenty minutes passed like that, the target's car stopped. It was in front of a dilapidated apartment that looked decades old. It must be the target's home. It's a little inconvenient that it's a housing complex, but it's convenient that security looks lax. The men stopped the car a little away from the apartment. Getting out, they pursue the target.

Upon doing so, the lanky man operated a handy-sized machine. It was a device shaped like a transceiver—but compared to that, many antennas were sticking out from the top of its head, and its purpose lies in the exact opposite of a transceiver. It is a device not to communicate with others, but to prevent others from communicating. By emitting powerful noise radio waves to the whole area, it can make surrounding communication devices unusable.

To put it plainly—it is a radio jammer.

After turning on its switch, the lanky man looks at his mobile phone. He could confirm that "Out of Service" was displayed on the top right of the screen.

(14/42)

In front of the apartment, a car stopped.

Yuki and the others heard that sound.

(15/42)

"......Someone came?"

Stopping the chopsticks picking at the pot, Yuki said.

"They came," Ramona answered.

A car stops in front of the building. It is an extremely normal thing, but in this situation, it is not normal. The residents of the apartment are all gathered here, and there wouldn't be a delivery at this time. Yuki's agent—that possibility came to mind, but it should be too early for a game invitation.

However, since that seemed the most likely possibility, Yuki stood up. Leaving the words "I'll go look," she left Room 101, slipped out of the apartment, and exposed herself to the moonlight.

Then, a young woman was just getting out of a taxi.

She is wearing slightly strange clothes. Kimono—is a little different. Is it that thing called Hanfu? She had a beautiful face, but strangely, there was an impression that it didn't stand out. A physiognomy as if one gathered the faces of a hundred humans and took the average by image processing. She heard somewhere that humans tend to like average faces. She could be called that type of beauty.

She directed that average face toward Yuki.

Instantly, that face changed to an expression of average joy.

(16/42)

Now, at this time.

The surveillance on Awahime was still continuing. On the utility poles in the vicinity of the apartment, several crows were perched as if blending into the darkness, and their black pearl-like eyes and the camera lenses attached to their necks were all directed at Awahime—of course, neither Awahime nor Yuki knew this.

Also—this was also something the two could not know, but—the encounter of the two was an event just a few seconds before the hitmen used the radio jammer. Therefore, the wireless module to transmit the camera footage operated without problems, delivering the high-resolution figures of the two to Shiro and the others.

Of course, the two do not know that a member of "The Secret Society" monitoring that footage—Dokutake—expressed a great surprise that nearly made her tumble off her chair.

Nor do they know that she blew out all the tea she happened to have in her mouth at that moment, drenching the PC tower, keyboard, mouse, and six monitors in front of her evenly with water.

(17/42)

Cough, cough, Dokutake choked. After coughing about three times, she calmed down.

Dokutake layers nearby tissues and wipes the machinery. However, this, it must be said she was somewhat confused. It wasn't a situation to be wiping leisurely at all, and besides, even if she wiped, she couldn't continue the surveillance.

Because—suddenly, the monitor footage had stopped.

"Eh... W-what is this?"

The monitor footage was frozen at the point where it captured that shocking footage—the contact between Awahime and Yuki. It wasn't simply that the two weren't moving, but the video itself was stopped. It wasn't that the monitor broke. It wouldn't break with just a little tea sprayed on it. Probably, a malfunction occurred on the camera side.

This is Dokutake's room. All members of "The Secret Society" have private rooms in the Shiro residence. Being "The Secret Society" full of eccentrics, the way of the rooms is also diverse. Dokutake's room has the aspect of a junk shop, with miscellaneous machinery spreading not just on the desk but on shelves and the floor. Since she leaves rather expensive items rolling on the floor calmly, and if one doesn't walk carefully, a loss of units of a hundred thousand yen comes out immediately, no one tries to enter other than Dokutake. She is often told "Clean it up," and just a few hours ago, Takami, who came to pick up the cameras to attach to the crows, mentioned it, and Dokutake cracked a science joke saying "It's not scattered. It's accumulating, this is," but unfortunately it didn't seem to convey well to Takami.

Dokutake is strong with machines to the extent she can scatter them all over the room. It was Dokutake who prepared the cameras for Awahime's surveillance, and it is Dokutake passing that footage to the hitmen. To confirm the outcome of the work, she was watching the footage herself. It was no problem until Awahime used a taxi and returned to her home, but—the appearance of an unexpected person there. She was flabbergasted.

Why, Yuki came out. What does it mean? Did she happen to live in the same apartment as Awahime? No, that's wrong. To begin with, that is not Awahime's home. She didn't return home, but headed to Yuki's place. She probably heard the address from Shiro or Kokone or someone. Dokutake didn't know Awahime's address or Yuki's address. She had been monitoring all along, but she hadn't recognized the situation correctly.

Why did Awahime attempt to contact Yuki—?

She can roughly imagine. The blood drained from Dokutake's face.

"......Shiro-san! Trouble! It's trouble!"

Saying so, Dokutake left the room.

She tried shouting for the time being, but since it's a large house, the voice doesn't reach. While sending a message on her mobile phone, and shouting trouble trouble, Dokutake headed to Shiro's room.

In the hallway on the way, she ran into Shiro.

"—Is it true?"

She asked first thing.

It was not <What do you want?> but <Is it true?> because she had already explained the situation by message. Dokutake showed the screen of her mobile phone. It was a photo taken of the monitor footage from earlier. The two figures of Awahime and Yuki are clearly reflected.

"......It seems to be true," Shiro said.

She had a calm face. However, Dokutake saw through that her attitude was only on the surface, and inwardly she must be panicking. This person has this side. At a glance, she looks calm, composed, and shrewd, but in reality, she flusters quite a bit and what she does is rough too.

"Did you tell the hitmen about Yuki-shi?" Dokutake asked.

"No. Because there was no need to."

"But, as expected, they won't lay a hand in this situation, right...? Since there's an unrelated person."

"I cannot assert that." Shiro shakes her head. "Because they are a group that makes rough work their principle... They might kill her along with Yuki-san. Anyway, I will contact them. It is very bad if they proceed in this situation."

Shiro operated her mobile phone. She held it to her ear for a while, moved it away, operated it again, and held it to her ear. The meaning of that gesture would have been understood even if seen from tens of meters away—it is the gesture when the phone doesn't connect easily.

Why doesn't it connect, Dokutake thinks. Perhaps, to prevent reporting to the police, they might be using a radio jammer. If so, the hitmen's own phones can't be used either, and the fact that the cameras stopped functioning is also explained.

Finally, Shiro put away the mobile phone. "I will head there directly," she says.

"Excuse me. I will go call the agent."

"E-eh..."

Shiro walked the hallway briskly.

Following that, "......Will we make it...?" Dokutake asked.

It was a question with an ambiguous subject. Make it, for what? If we don't make it, what will happen?

Shiro answers. "I don't want to think about that."

(18/42)

"Yuki-san, right."

Under the roof of Tochinoki Manor—the Hanfu girl said so to Yuki.

"You know me?" Yuki asked.

"I know. I was looking for you."

At those words, Yuki makes a difficult face.

"......This pattern again..." she muttered small.

"Eh? What?"

"No, nothing. Um..."

What should I do, Yuki thought. If we are to talk like this, it means withdrawing from the dinner party. She feels reluctant to withdraw midway even though she had them shift the time for her, but keeping this girl waiting is also pitiable in its own way.

Let's ask her business for now, thinking so, Yuki tried to open her mouth—

However, at that moment.

Kacha, a sound was heard from far away.

(19/42)

"......Guh!"

Her body moves reflexively.

She jumps back, returning under the roof of the apartment. Putting her back against the wall, she directs eyes of caution to the surroundings.

Regarding such behavior of Yuki,

"What's wrong"

The Hanfu girl asked—

—From an ultra-close distance, enough for face and face to stick together.

"Whoa...!"

Because of that, Yuki jumps back another step.

"W-when did you..."

"What's wrong"

This time from a moderate distance, the Hanfu girl asks.

"......Didn't you hear?" Yuki answers in a small voice.

"What."

"Kacha, the sound of plastic."

Yuki expressed what she thought that sound meant in a gesture. Lightly gripping the right hand, pulling the left hand from front to back.

"Probably—the sound of pulling a handgun slide."

She has no proof, but she thought so. Although it is something usually not allowed to be possessed in this country, since Yuki is a player, it is not strange whenever and wherever such things appear. Actually, even in the "Red Bear" incident the other day—although that was a revolver—she has had an unexpected encounter.

Yuki looked at the Hanfu girl. "Don't tell me they're your buddies," she said in a harsh voice.

"Distracting me with conversation, then bang from a distance... wasn't that the plan?"

"N-no," The Hanfu girl shook her head. "Rather, enemies. Shiro probably sent hitmen."

"Shiro?"

It was the appearance of an unexpected name. Yuki repeats it.

"To come this quickly... but, I confirmed there was no car tailing..."

"Then they must have come by bicycle," saying a joke that came to mind appropriately, Yuki said, "...No, um..."

The story is getting a bit messy, Yuki thinks.

Holding her forehead, just as she pondered what she should ask—

This time, from upstairs, she heard a sound like someone jumping onto the roof.

(20/42)

Encho jumped onto the roof of Tochinoki Manor.

(21/42)

Encho likes high places.

There is the fact that she likes it because she can feel a sense of openness—but she also likes it for more practical reasons. By taking a position with a good view, she can literally <look down on the situation>. If there is anything suspicious, she makes it a rule to try climbing to a high place for the time being.

In this case, that <something> was the cocking sound of a handgun. It was faint, but she certainly heard it. Encho immediately—opened the screen door of the landlady's room—went outside, and relying on the outdoor unit or pipes attached to the wall of the apartment, performed climbing, and instantly leaped onto the roof.

Grabbing the lightning rod and supporting her weight, Encho looks around. Tochinoki Manor is a two-story apartment. As a building, it is not that high, but since neighboring buildings were also similar in terms of height, the view was sufficient.

In that scenery, Encho saw wriggling shadows.

Men are walking the night road. Their attire was, tentatively, a salaryman-style outfit, but they were heavily exuding an atmosphere that was not of the honest world. They were walking in a characteristic pose of thrusting one hand into the suit, and the meaning was clear. They are hiding guns in their pockets.

She observes the men in more detail. According to Encho's both eyes which work very well at night due to her profession, some of the men don't look Japanese—adding that information, Encho realized the true identity of the men. They are probably a newcomer assassin group. When Encho returned to her parents' home the other day, she heard that such things are rising. They are stealing customers from existing operators with cheaper and faster work than peers. The hitman industry is a terribly exclusive world, and it was customary for new entrants to be physically excluded by the collusion of old families, but in this case, it seems exclusion is difficult because an overseas criminal organization is backing them. The influence is reaching the Encho family too, the number of jobs has started to decrease recently, and all the relatives were mouthing words of complaint, but as Encho who is doing the hitman job reluctantly, she just prayed that it wouldn't lead to closing the business as is.

Now—who is their aim? Is it Encho? Or is it Tomoki-san? It is also conceivable that it is Ramona or the landlady. Due to the incident the other day, remnants of "Red Bear" might have issued a request. The earlier car—it seems to have disappeared from in front of the apartment—is probably the hitmen's car. In any case, she should consider that everyone in the apartment is in danger. Encho had also heard rumors about their "rough work." They might be planning to kill everyone and seal their mouths.

Encho takes out her mobile phone. It was to attempt dialing 110—however, already, "Out of Service" was displayed on Encho's mobile phone. They must be using a radio jammer. It is a standard method of hitmen to cut off contact.

Then—.

Tracing back the path she came, Encho returned to Room 101. Ramona and the landlady—probably due to Encho's acrobatic behavior—had their mouths gaping open. Encho also opened her mouth and said "Landline."

"Landline, is it in this room?"

"Eh?"

"It is an important matter," Encho says quietly but strongly. "Yes or no."

"A, ah..." The landlady said, appearing a little overwhelmed, "But, where did I put it. Haven't used it for a while. Since it was nothing but nuisance calls, I pulled the cable out—"

And, at that moment.

Batsun, a sound was heard small.

And, the room's light, TV, and electric fan stopped simultaneously.

"......Tch......"

Staring at the only light remaining in the room—the fire of the portable stove, Encho grinds her teeth.

Blackout. She thought she could communicate if it was wired—but the wires were cut. Probably, the telephone line was done too.

"Well? What is..."

Saying so, Ramona turned on her smartphone and made it an impromptu light.

"—Wait! Ramona-san."

Encho says in a panic. Taking the smartphone from Ramona's hand, she turned it face down on the floor. At the same time, she extinguishes the fire of the stove and cuts off all light sources from the room.

"You must not turn on the light. Conversation in a small voice too. Please."

"......Y-yes..."

Ramona shouldn't understand the situation well yet, but probably due to Encho's threatening attitude, she answered so.

"Landlady, Ramona-san, please do not leave this room," Encho said to the two. "I think you are curious about the outside, but please stay here. Close all doors, lock them, and never let anyone in. Even if the chime rings, please ignore it. And... as quietly as possible, without turning on lights, please look for the landline. There is a possibility that the telephone line is safe."

The electricity cutting out is probably because the power line drawn into the apartment was cut. It is hard to think they would cut the power line but not cut other lines—telephone line or optical fiber—but the possibility they inadvertently overlooked it is not zero. We should try.

"Landlines can be used even during a blackout, right? If it connects, please call 110. 'Suspicious persons are wandering around the apartment,' 'sounds like gunshots are heard,' should pass."

"Hey, gunshots, you..."

The landlady says, but Encho ignored it. "And, if, something like someone breaking in happens—"

Encho took out two small items from her pocket.

"With this, please protect yourself."

One was a thick ballpoint pen. The other was a mobile battery. They do possess functions as such, but the main function of these small items lies elsewhere. Encho held the ballpoint pen and battery in each hand, and when she pressed the buttons, sparks crackled between two electrodes secretly attached to places not visible at a glance.

Concealed stun guns.

"Here."

Encho hands them to Ramona and the landlady.

"Um, er..." While receiving it, Ramona asks. "Yayoi-san, why, do you have such things...?"

"......I am of the same tribe as Tomoki-san."

Encho answered.

She thought that would convey it. Because she knew that Ramona got involved with Tomoki the other day.

"Since there is no time, detailed explanation later. ...Well then."

Leaving those words, Encho went through the window and left Room 101. The slight space existing between the next-door private house—therefore an area difficult to be seen from the enemy—she moved quietly.

(22/42)

In the darkness, the man twirled the tip of his knife.

"Hit," he muttered softly.

Ahead of his gaze lay power lines. They were the lines drawn from the utility pole into the apartment, and none of them were intact. Severed, they hung limply.

The man had cut them. He was a master of throwing knives. possessing a unique background as a former street performer; as long as the target was within throwing distance, he could hit the mark with one hundred percent accuracy. For cutting the apartment's power lines, he took on this role because using a knife was easier to aim and quieter than using a gun.

He tucked the knife, which he no longer needed to throw, into his pocket. At that moment—

There was a strange sensation on the man's neck.

At first, he thought a bug had landed on him. However, it was too forceful for that. He was being strangled—as he recognized this, the man touched his neck, but the thread that appeared to be strangling him was far too thin and had dug into his neck, making it impossible to peel away.

The man didn't know when he had lost consciousness. When he next came to, he was rolled out onto concrete. It was a narrow alleyway, cramped enough to feel tight against the man's shoulder width. Right next to him, he could see the outer wall of that apartment. It was likely the gap between Tochinoki Manor and the neighboring building.

There was the sensation of a soft hand on the man's mouth. A girl dressed in green was right in front of him—she was grabbing the man's face, covering his mouth.

"—From now on," the girl said.

"Answer in a whisper only when I give you permission. If you break this rule, I will kill you."

It wasn't the "I'll kill you" of a teenage girl. The tone was less aggressive and more administrative in nuance. It was the way of speaking of a human using violence strictly as a tool. That single phrase identified her as someone in the same trade.

Even now, the thread was wound around the man's neck. The girl held the ends of it. She was poised to strangle him at any moment—it seemed not just his neck but his whole body was bound, as the man could not move satisfactorily.

"You are in the same trade, correct? Answer yes or no."

Saying so, the girl removed her hand from the man's mouth. "......Yes," the man answered.

"Who is the target? Answer me."

"A... A girl named Awahime. Not you."

"No such person is in this apartment."

The man was bewildered. That couldn't be. The target had definitely returned to that apartment.

"Who is it really? Answer me."

"It's not a lie!" The man realized his voice had gotten too loud and whispered, "......Earlier, a taxi stopped in front of the apartment, right? She got out from there..."

The girl made a dubious face.

Seeing that, the man also felt dubious. What is going on? Has she not grasped the situation either? Or rather, why is a fellow professional here in the first place? Did Awahime call her in advance—?

"I hear your work is rough. Was the plan to dispose of the apartment residents along with her?"

"We wouldn't do that."

Yank, the girl pulled the thread. The man's neck constricted. With a compressed airway, he offered his defense. "Wro, ng."

"If we killed a bunch of people, it'd be a huge, deal. We wouldn't do that..."

It wasn't a lie. The men hated for things to become major incidents. Their style was not to hesitate in leaving evidence or letting things become criminal cases—but they did not slaughter indiscriminately. If the scale of the incident was large, public authority would put serious effort into the investigation.

Although the girl directed a suspicious gaze at him, she seemed to accept it for now. "And one more thing," she asked.

"In total, you are—"

Just as the girl said that, there was the sound of footsteps.

Footsteps from the apartment. The girl yanked the hand holding the thread. The man's neck was strangled. Bound thoroughly from head to toe, unable to offer anything resembling resistance, the man's consciousness faded. The last sight the man saw was the girl opening a nearby window and entering one of the apartment rooms.

(23/42)

Yuki and Awahime heard the footsteps.

(24/42)

"......They're here," Awahime said.

"......They're here, aren't they," Yuki replied.

The two had their ears to the floor. It was to hear the footsteps of the "Hitmen" who would be coming to the apartment shortly.

Yuki had, for the time being, taken Awahime back to her own room, Room 107. Both of them spoke in whispers while pressing their ears to the entryway floor. Just as she had started by getting the name Awahime and was about to move on to a more detailed discussion—they heard the footsteps.

And it was the footsteps of multiple people. To Yuki's ears, it sounded like three people. The volume and interval of the sounds seemed different for each. The three presumably had different builds.

When she pressed her ear even harder to the floor to extract further information—the footsteps vanished. The three had stopped. Sounds that seemed like conversation and the clattering sound of metal were heard simultaneously. This was probably—

"......Are they looking at the mailboxes?"

Yuki muttered in a whisper.

"But, why...?"

At the entrance of Tochinoki Manor, there are mailboxes for each unit. Since the unused ones are sealed with duct tape, checking them would naturally reveal the number of residents and their locations. But why check? Awahime isn't a resident here—.

"They think I'm a resident of the apartment," Awahime answered.

"I haven't told the guys at 'The Secret Society' where I live. Since I got out of a taxi and entered the building, they've mistakenly assumed I returned home."

"I see..."

In that case, this is bad. The three hitmen will likely go around the rooms in order from here on. Naturally, the first one they visit will be Room 101, closest to the entrance. She didn't know how they would visit. They might ring the chime normally, or they might pick the lock and barge in. She also didn't know how the landlady and the others would respond to that. The hitmen's aim is strictly Awahime, so there shouldn't be any danger, but the landlady is hot-blooded, and there is a possibility it could develop into strange trouble. She couldn't just stand by and watch the situation.

Thinking so, Yuki stood up. She tried to open the door and leave, but—

"—Wait."

Awahime grabbed the sleeve of her jersey.

"What do you intend to do?"

"Don't worry, I won't tell them about you," Yuki answered.

Unconsciously, she used the second-person pronoun "Anta" (You). She calls people she isn't very friendly with this way.

When Yuki went out into the hallway, just as expected, there were three men. Also as expected, they were discussing something in front of the mailboxes, and again as expected, the three had different builds. In her mind, she gave them nicknames: Big, Chibi (Shorty), and Noppo (Tall).

"Excuse me! Who might you be?"

Yuki asked, pretending to know nothing.

"You aren't people from the apartment, are you?"

Her loud voice seemed to reach the three men. The men turned toward Yuki. "Oh, perfect timing," the Chibi man said.

"Hey, Miss, there's something we want to ask."

"What is it?"

"Is there a person named Awahime in this apartment?"

During the conversation, the three men casually approached her. Yuki did not move from her spot.

"She's a girl with a plain vibe wearing something like a Kimono. Don't know her?"

"No... I don't know her. Do you have a photo or something?"

"Here, this."

The Chibi man showed the screen of his mobile phone.

However, she couldn't see it well. Because there was a reasonable distance between the men and Yuki.

But Yuki lied, "I've never seen her."

"I don't think she's a person from here. There are apartments similar to this one all over the place. Aren't you mistaking it for somewhere else?"

"Is that so—"

Saying that, the Chibi man put his mobile phone into the breast pocket of his suit.

And—when he pulled his hand out next, he was gripping a handgun.

Yuki was moving before the Chibi man could exude killing intent. She quickly opened the door, closed it, and just as she returned from the hallway to Room 107, Bam bam bam, gunshots rang out.

"......What roughnecks...!"

Yuki stated her impression.

They probably intended to hurt her a little and make her tell the truth. With this, the doubt was gone. They are a group of outlaws. Yuki thought it was good that she went out.

Without needing to press her ear to the floor anymore, footsteps could be heard from the hallway. Yuki took out her mobile phone. Of course, to call the police. Yuki was someone in an illegal trade who didn't pay taxes properly, but she didn't care about that. She'd teach them what happens when they go bang bang with guns in this country. Yuki pressed the emergency call button on the smartphone lock screen and tried to dial 110 immediately, but—

However, for some reason, it was out of service.

"Impossible," Awahime said.

"My phone is out of service too."

With the smartphone in hand, Awahime tapped her own forehead.

"They're definitely jamming us. One of those three must have a radio jammer. I'll smash it and stop it. Negotiating with Shiro comes after that."

Saying so, Awahime gave off a belligerent air. She intends to fight those three.

"......I don't know the detailed circumstances," Yuki said.

"Don't drag the apartment residents into this. It can't be helped that we fight here due to the turn of events, but if any of the residents get hurt, I won't cooperate with you."

Not even knowing what Awahime's business was, Yuki gave a warning like that.

"I know."

Awahime answered and—

Vanished suddenly from the spot.

Yuki looked around in surprise. She noticed the room window was open.

"......When did she..." she muttered.

(25/42)

The three men advanced with a fast walk.

Their destination was the door to Room 107—no, the window of that room. To force their way in, that side was more convenient.

This apartment has almost no gap between it and the neighboring building. There is only a narrow path that could barely be called a small alley—provided more for placing outdoor units and gas meters than for human passage. The men proceeded through such a place in single file, aiming for the window of Room 107.

On the way, they passed by an outdoor AC unit. The tall man walking at the front of the three checked behind it. Confirming no one was there, he passed the outdoor unit and moved forward.

Then, there was a shadow moving behind the men.

Awahime, who had been hiding behind that very outdoor unit, assaulted the three from behind.

(26/42)

Deceiving human eyes is an easy thing, Awahime thought.

Human eyes are sloppy, and brains are even sloppier. Moreover, despite that, the person in question doesn't think they are sloppy. That's why they can be easily deceived. Awahime, who had swept through human physiology and psychology in mastering the master art of <Erasing> her own figure, knew well the sloppiness of human cognition. She considered humans to be nothing more than upstart monkeys after all.

For such an Awahime, appearing from a spot the opponent had supposedly checked was a piece of cake. Physically, Awahime's figure must have been seen by the man. However, simply <being reflected in the eyes> and recognizing that it was <seen> are different. There is a large gap there. Most humans have probably had the mysterious experience at least once of searching for tens of minutes for something they thought they had <lost>, only for it to have been right in front of them from the start—what Awahime <pulled> on the men was the same thing. Skillfully escaping the tall man's recognition and successfully assaulting them from behind, Awahime first attacked the Chibi man walking at the very back of the three.

Now—Awahime, a master of erasing presence and a player, also knew the etiquette of surprise attacks. She covered Chibi's mouth using the sleeve of her Hanfu and strangled Chibi's neck with the other sleeve. Chibi struggled flailing, but the two going ahead did not notice. Awahime expected to eliminate him in silence like this, but—

—However, the Chibi man noticed the fact that he could kick the outdoor unit right next to him.

The man did exactly that. The two in front turned around.

Awahime had properly thought about that case too. Awahime aimed the handgun she snatched from the Chibi man at the Big and Tall men. A weapon in one hand, a shield in the other—so to speak, this is what it was. While using the Chibi man, who had already fainted from being strangled by then, as a shield, Awahime fired at the remaining two enemies.

However—Awahime's speculation missed the mark again. The Chibi man's handgun had a larger caliber than expected, the trigger was heavy, and the recoil was large too. There was difficulty handling it with Awahime's slender arms, and all the fired bullets missed the mark completely. After firing three shots and missing two, with barely one shot grazing the Big man's shoulder, the men launched a counterattack. This was also a miscalculation for Awahime—the men were ruffians beyond what Awahime imagined—the Chibi man did not function as a shield at all, and the Big and Tall men, who had each taken out their own handguns, fired without hesitation. Awahime hid behind the outdoor unit.

Awahime let go of Chibi. After feeding a lead bullet into the mouth of the thing she realized was useless, she <Erased> herself again.

(27/42)

This is Awahime's way of fighting.

Quickly <Reveal> herself and <Erase> herself, fighting while constantly escaping the opponent's eyes. In a killing match, this technique is invincible—Awahime has fought more than thirty games so far, but she has rarely even had a close call, let alone fallen into a pinch. If it was a competitive game, just lightly <Erasing> herself allowed her to do as she pleased with the opponent, and regarding escape-type games, if it involved obstacles prepared by management as <Enemies>, Awahime's technique worked without problems, and even for pure types with traps and terrain as obstacles, there were some benefits in the part of the technique for moving quickly. According to a story she heard from an agent, there is a jinx called the <Wall of Thirty> in the circle, where impossible bad luck occurs in games close to the thirtieth time and the player survival rate drops drastically, but as for Awahime's actual feeling, honestly, she didn't think there was such a thing. She suspected it was just a superstition.

However, if it's about unlucky encounters, she has one in mind.

In her thirtieth game, she met that devil—Shiro.

It was a game called "Heavenly Sky," set on an airplane, structured so that two factions, crew and hijackers, fought each other. Awahime, who belonged to the crew faction and wore a cabin attendant's outfit, spoke with Shiro, who was also in a CA outfit.

Shiro, having heard about the <Technique> possessed by Awahime, said with a face full of joy,

"Wonderful!"

And she began to—how should one put it—woo Awahime. Your technique is wonderful. I was looking for a person with a unique technique like you. I want to get close to a sharp person like you. I definitely want you to join our team—. At Shiro's offensive, which could be called killing with praise, Awahime, pathetically, let her cheeks relax. It was the first time in her life she had been fawned over like that. Not knowing that it was Shiro's usual modus operandi—Awahime came to be invited to "The Secret Society."

"The Secret Society." The group formed by Shiro. Apparently, it is a place where players <possessing unique techniques> gather. Awahime is exactly that, but—collecting holders of rare skills found nowhere else in one place, sharing that technique within the team, and attempting to improve player skills seems to be the aim of the group called "The Secret Society."

When Awahime joined, there were two other players enrolled besides Shiro. Takami and Dokutake. Both were characters with quite strong quirks, but since Awahime also had strong quirks, they got along, and life in "The Secret Society" was quite fun. Also, the numerous techniques brought from "The Secret Society" raised Awahime's level as a player even further.

Eventually, the turn came for Awahime to provide technology. <Putting into words>, <making explainable>, <making doable by anyone>, and <selling off> the thing she had spent her life refining—it wasn't that she didn't have thoughts about such a situation, but she had received the educational package first, and accepting Shiro's explanation that it would only be shared within the team, Awahime carried out the development of the <Walking Technique>. When it came to making it learnable by anyone, most of the techniques used by Awahime could not be included, and as a result, the finished product remained strictly in the category of elementary skills from Awahime's perspective, but it still seemed to be a huge benefit from Shiro and the others' perspective, and was greatly appreciated. Seeing the members of "The Secret Society" practicing the same way of walking as herself and mastering it, she felt subconsciously as if a part of herself had been cut off, but Awahime forced herself to ignore that feeling.

It became impossible to ignore about a few months after the development of the Walking Technique.

In a certain game, she witnessed a player other than "The Secret Society" using the Walking Technique.

Awahime's feelings at that time were indescribable. As if her soul had been extracted—as if her identity had been stolen—a disgusting image floated in her head as if the existence known as herself had been crushed, stretched flat, and spread so thin she could no longer be called herself. She hadn't realized she was so attached to that technique.

When that game ended, Awahime immediately confronted Shiro. A guy not in "The Secret Society" was using my Walking Technique. What is the meaning of that?

"Ah... About that," she answered calmly.

"I decided to dare to spread that Walking Technique. To increase the fame of 'The Secret Society' and gain further members... That will be for our benefit in the long run, won't it?"

Awahime brought up the promise. It was supposed to be a promise to teach only humans of "The Secret Society."

In response to that, Shiro changed to a blank face. As if she had forgotten until this very moment, she answered.

"Was that so?"

Awahime doesn't remember what she said after that. However, she remembers only that she snapped spectacularly. Thinking about it now, this was a bad move. If she had pressed her calmly, she could have at least drawn out words of apology. There might have been some compensation too. Lashing out furiously caused Shiro's attitude to harden. The mission changed from a <Discussion> with a human partner to <Monster Extermination>. Because of that, the negotiations got tangled and more tangled, leading to the current state.

Awahime still remembers that blank face of Shiro.

I should have punched her while I was at it, she thinks. Because of the excessive rage, that option didn't come to mind instead. As if to clear her regret, Awahime killed Shiro with that face hundreds of times in her imagination. I won't forgive her. For stealing my life. I murder her in my head. By every possible method, again, and again, and again, and again—

That face changed to that of the tall man.

(28/42)

A bullet pierced the tall man's face.

The man falls. Spilling blood from the entry and exit of the bullet—two holes in total—he scattered it on the concrete ground. Awahime stared at that figure coldly.

It is outside the apartment. A small parking space provided at the back of the building. She came here while fighting the two men, and the fight just finished a moment ago. Not just the Tall man, but the Big man is also dead next to him with his face shot through. The Chibi man is also dead in the narrow alley from earlier. Confirming that she killed all three—that the killing intent has vanished from the area—Awahime checks.

"—Splendid."

And, at such a time, a voice called out to Awahime.

Before she knew it, Yuki was nearby.

"......When did you..."

Awahime threw the exact same question.

"I'm good at erasing my presence. Not as good as you though," Yuki said.

She approached the Tall man and performed a body check. Awahime searches the other one—namely the Big man. The one who drew the <Winner> was Yuki. From the inner pocket of the suit the Tall man was wearing, a device with spiky antennas reminiscent of punk fashion came out, and when Yuki fiddled with it, Awahime's mobile phone recovered its signal.

"It connected," Awahime said.

"Good."

Yuki answered and took out her own mobile phone. Looking over the disastrous scene around them, she said, "I'll contact my agent, is that okay?"

"We need to have them clean up the mess..."

"Yeah. I'll leave it to you."

Awahime answered. Regarding the destruction of evidence, it would be better to leave it to Yuki's agent. Because she has her own place she needs to call. Awahime opened the call history on her mobile phone, pressed the number at the very top, and tried to contact Shiro—

That was the most foolish moment for Awahime tonight.

(29/42)

In Room 101.

Encho read that the killing intent had vanished.

(30/42)

At this time, Encho was in Room 101.

Inside the room, she was protecting Ramona and the landlady.

However, there was never a dangerous moment. It is probably thanks to Tomoki. From the sounds heard from outside the room, Encho grasped the general situation. Tomoki fought the three men who broke into the apartment—and won. She can deduce she won because the killing intent had vanished from around the apartment. It means the hitmen were annihilated, and Tomoki won.

After that, Encho confirmed that the mobile phone signal had recovered. They must have stopped or destroyed the radio jammer. Now they could call the police—but, as it stands now, reporting it would not be desirable. Because Tomoki is assumed to have killed the hitmen. So Encho contacted her own supporter—the partner she is always indebted to in her work—instead.

Even while doing so, Encho keeps her nerves sharp.

With this, three are down for the time being.

But, she cannot let her guard down—because more than half of the hitmen still remain.

(31/42)

Yes.

That is right.

At this time, in Tochinoki Manor, the only one who had the correct recognition was Encho—but there were ten men in total. Riding in three cars with three, three, and four people respectively, they chased Awahime and came to this apartment. Of them, Encho knocked out one, and Awahime killed three more, so currently six are alive and well. These six are <Lookouts> whose role is recovery in case the target escapes. They do not break directly into the apartment, but hide their bodies around it, concealing their presence as much as possible. Since there is no presence, and of course they are not emitting killing intent—neither Yuki nor Awahime could notice their existence. They mistook the three of Chibi, Big, and Tall for the entire hitman team.

—Furthermore.

This was something even Encho did not know, but the team organized for Awahime's assassination was not just these ten people.

On the roof of a multi-tenant building far away from the apartment—two more men had taken up position.

One is monitoring the apartment with binoculars, and the other with the scope of a sniper rifle.

Sniper rifle—is a contraption they wouldn't bring out for usual work. For the men, it is truly a useless white elephant. It goes against the philosophy of <Quick Work>. Selecting a sniping location, carefully aiming, and squeezing the trigger—all of it was terribly troublesome work for the men.

The reason they prepared a sniper team despite that was because the target this time had special skills. They had heard about her abilities from the client, Shiro. A player of a killing game with a sharp ability to read killing intent. Furthermore, possessing a special skill to erase her own presence. Vanishing suddenly without warning, or somehow not being noticed despite walking right in front of eyes—when they heard such stories from Shiro, it was hard to believe immediately, but they decided to take measures just in case. Preparing a sniper team, aiming from a long distance where reading or erasing presence wouldn't work.

As a result, those preparations paid off—that is probably what it amounts to.

The sniper man caught the figure of the target coming out into the apartment parking lot.

He squeezed the trigger of the gun.

—The one who noticed that fact ahead of time was Yuki.

(32/42)

In the apartment parking lot.

The one who noticed that fact ahead of time was Yuki.

Faster than the bullet, faster than the gunshot, even faster than the flash of the muzzle flash—an intense <Killing Intent> delivered like telepathy gave power to Yuki's body. They're shooting, she intuited.

Along with the intuition, the flow of time became slow. It's the usual thing. The brain, trained thoroughly as a player, temporarily heightens processing capacity in extreme situations. Within a sensation as if swimming in sticky liquid—as if the slowed time was clinging to her skin—Yuki moved. There was almost nothing she could do. Since she predicted based on the direction of the killing intent that she would receive <Sniping> from a distant building, shifting the position of body parts from hands to feet to torso to head to anything to let her body escape the line of fire was the most Yuki could do.

At that time, by chance, Yuki's gaze turned toward Awahime. She also seemed to sense the omen and was taking evasive action, but regrettably, it was one tempo later than Yuki. Yuki, sorry to say, half-predicted what would happen a split second later, and moved her left eye sharply to focus on Awahime's head.

White fluff burst open.

(33/42)

The flow of time returned.

Awahime fell to the ground.

"......Tch......!!"

A reckless shudder assaulted Yuki, as if her sensory nerves had been smashed with a stone.

Yuki's actions from there were extremely precise. Yuki, who corrected her posture which was slightly crumbled due to the evasive action, did not run at full speed to rush to Awahime—she did no such thing. That is useless. After all, she was shot in the head. She cannot be alive. So all Yuki could do was avoid repeating that mistake—that is why she ran hurriedly, opened the back door leading from the parking lot to the apartment, and hid indoors, but just as she turned back toward the parking lot when closing that door, she learned that her recognition was wrong.

Awahime was standing.

While spilling white fluff from her head—she was running toward her.

This object like white cotton is what blood transformed into. Due to the human body modification generally applied to players—<Preservation Treatment>—blood exposed to air turns into white fluff. By this, wounds are covered, bleeding stops, and one can survive even injuries that would normally be fatal—but, it's the brain, you know? Can one stay alive? No—or perhaps, the bullet didn't hit directly, but just grazed the surface? In any case, Yuki invited Awahime into the apartment and closed the door. Since the door was made of thin steel and not magnificent enough to stop a bullet, Yuki and the other moved further into the building.

"Ah, gu..."

Awahime released a groan that did not form words.

Seeing it up close, she understands it even better—she is injured in the head. It probably isn't just a graze. The amount of white fluff overflowing was clearly large, and signs of damage to the brain were recognized in Awahime's expression and words.

Yuki didn't know what to do. Even asking "Are you okay?" was troubling. She isn't okay no matter how you look at it, and even answering <I'm okay> would be a great struggle for the current Awahime. She didn't want to give her such a burden.

After a short time that could barely be called <hesitation>—Yuki took out her mobile phone. To convey an additional request to the agent to arrange a hospital. Calling from the top of the call history, she put the mobile phone to her ear.

"—He, him"

Before that phone connected, Awahime clung to her.

"Him, him, hi, him"

"W-what?" Yuki answers with a mix of bewilderment.

"Don't—trust him."

She couldn't see Awahime's face. She was clinging in a posture burying her face in Yuki's chest, and from Yuki, only the head covered in white fluff was visible. In that posture, Awahime said.

"He, deceived me. You will be deceived too..."

She says further.

"Stolen. I was. If you believe him, you will become so too..."

After those words, the breath on her chest disappeared.

She stopped feeling breathing from Awahime. She stopped feeling the clinging strength. She stopped feeling the pulsation. Yuki stirred just a little and shook Awahime's body.

"Awahime-san?"

(34/42)

Shiro's call connected.

(35/42)

It was inside the car driven by Shiro's agent.

Having the agent drive the car, they were heading to that apartment where Yuki lives. Even during that time, Shiro continued to call the hitman group. And—at the stage where the apartment was approaching right before their eyes, the phone finally got through.

"Yeah."

The person on the phone answered with a voice that could be identified as rough just by those two syllables.

"It is Shiro," she announced briefly.

"Ah, Boss Shiro. What's up?"

"I am cancelling the request. Please stop action immediately."

"Haa...? What do you mean?"

"It is bad if it is carried out there. That is not the target's home. It is the home of... Yuki..." Shiro hesitated for words, "...an acquaintance player of mine. I do not want to cause her trouble. So please cancel it."

"Haa. But you know, Boss, even if you say stop, you gotta tell us earlier. It's too late now."

"You are the ones who didn't answer the phone."

"Hehe, guess that's true. Had the signal cut." The man laughed, "Anyway, Boss. Even if you say stop, it's impossible. Because we already did it."

"Did you kill her?"

"No... I wonder. She might not be dead yet."

"Which is it."

"Well, according to what I heard from the sniper earlier, he did shoot her in the head. But, it seems she was still moving... What did you call it again, this. Um, Mofu-something..."

"Do you mean <Preservation Treatment>?"

Shiro answers. Regarding that, she had conveyed it beforehand. "Ah, right right," the man answers.

"Thanks to that or whatever, it seems she was still alive. She ran and fled into the apartment. We can't tell whether she's currently alive or not from here. And well, that's the situation but... Boss, do you want to quit even from now? We already went wild at the apartment quite a bit, so I think trouble or whatever is moot though."

"Please withdraw," Shiro says. "I will handle the cleanup here. Regarding the commission fee... let's see, if she is dead, the full amount, if she isn't dead, I will pay half. How is that."

"No no Boss, half is troubling. Because we already used men and bullets—"

Not listening to the end, Shiro hung up the phone.

And, she looks to the side. Shiro was sitting in the back seat of the car, and next to her was Kokone. "Kokone-san, please lend me your mobile phone," Shiro says.

"......Are you going to call Yuki-san?" Kokone asks.

"Is there any reason other than that?"

Kokone said nothing more, unlocked the mobile phone, and handed it to Shiro. She promptly dialed Yuki and put the mobile phone to her ear.

(36/42)

Yuki's mobile phone vibrated.

There is no ringtone. Since the situation is what it is, she has it on silent mode. Yuki answered the phone while remaining in the posture of being clung to by Awahime. She heard Shiro's greeting, "Good evening."

"......What do you want, at this time."

"I apologize for causing you trouble this time."

"What are you talking about?"

"It is about the matter Yuki-san is currently involved in right now. ...I have already made the assassin team withdraw. Yuki-san's safety will not be threatened from now on. Are you currently near your home?"

"Yeah."

"That is good. I have also currently come to the vicinity of the apartment. As soon as I arrive there, I wish to meet you directly and explain this matter. I would like to meet in front of the apartment, is that a problem?"

"Yeah. I'll be waiting—"

Just as Yuki tried to answer, she heard the sound of a car stopping.

It seems there is no longer a need to wait. Yuki gently laid the quiet Awahime on the spot, and then left the apartment. When she surveyed the surroundings while being wary of sniping, she found one black car stopped on the street. The rear door opened, and Shiro stepped out.

"Excuse me for the late hour,"

Shiro said to her.

"No... Isn't it already far past a commotion of just 'excuse me'..."

"No,"

Yuki said flatly.

"Don't bring your internal disputes over here."

"......From that demeanor, you already understand the details. Did you meet Awahime-san?"

"I met her."

"Where is she now?"

"She died."

Yuki jerked her chin to indicate the hallway of the apartment. Although, Awahime's figure cannot be seen from here.

"Probably, though. Through the agent, I contacted a Management hospital. Whether dead or alive will be known there."

"How did you hear it from her?"

"Weren't you supposed to <Explain>? Why am I being asked questions one after another."

"My apologies."

Shiro said. It looked like an apology in form only.

Then, Shiro created a time of silence for a while. That means one of two things. Silence because she is thinking about the arrangement of the story, or silence because she is fabricating the story. Eventually, "Let's see..." Shiro began.

"It seems she was attempting to contact Yuki-san. She likely planned to whisper baseless rumors to you and ruin the deal between me and Yuki-san."

"Rumors?"

"Yes. She has been caught up in persecution delusions lately... It seems she felt her technique was stolen by 'The Secret Society.' The Walking Technique I spoke of the other day—that originates from Awahime-san's skill. Of course, there is no fact that we stole it, and she provided the technology upon prior agreement, but for some reason, inside her head, it became <Stolen>. So, she was demanding compensation from 'The Secret Society'."

Shiro continued fluently without stagnation.

"To state the concrete amount, three hundred million yen. According to her, it is because <I stole her life>. She likely calculated it from the lifetime earnings of this country... but from our standpoint, we have neither reason nor obligation to pay. I refused decisively. And, Awahime, impatient with the stalled negotiations, thought of contacting Yuki-san... that is the story. I do not know accurately what she was actually thinking. Did she expect negotiations to progress if she approached Yuki-san, the most important person for us... or was she trying to whisper things true and false to damage trust in 'The Secret Society'... or perhaps she was trying to murder Yuki-san to harass 'The Secret Society.' In any case, I never thought she would take such action. Because of that, I ended up dragging Yuki-san into this. I am truly sorry for this matter."

Shiro bowed her head toward Yuki. That head was still higher than Yuki's.

Yuki examines Shiro's story. Since Yuki doesn't know what actually happened, she can only speak about impressions—but she felt something was suspicious. The sign of distorting facts peculiar to glib humans is recognized. At least one large distorted part could be seen. The part about unleashing hitmen on Awahime—was casually glossed over in Shiro's story.

Shiro raised her head without waiting for Yuki's response.

"Good grief, we were troubled by her,"

She said.

"People with skills are prone to be eccentric... But she was exceptional. She wasn't a human who could get along in a group. What on earth do those indecisive people intend? What do you have to do to be able to distort facts like that? ...Well, anyway, I will not let anything like this happen again. I look forward to working with you from now on."

Yuki closed her eyes.

She recalled Awahime's last words once more.

He deceived me. You will be deceived too—.

<He> probably refers to Shiro. She doesn't know if the words that Awahime was <Deceived> and <Stolen from> are truth or delusion. From Yuki's position, there is no way to know.

But—it conveyed. These things convey. There have been several opportunities before. Yuki can naturally read words released by whittling down the soul, words coming out from the deepest part of the heart. Perhaps because the lifeless self longs for such things. That the girl named Awahime dedicated herself to something and received a terrible betrayal conveyed without needing corroboration.

"Shiro," Yuki said.

"Yes."

"Sorry about <That> tonight."

"Yes?"

"You know, even though you explained about the <Perks> and various things, I put joining 'The Secret Society' on hold. About that."

"Ah..." Shiro answers appearing convinced. "Please, do not mind it. But why such talk?"

"I wondered about it myself, that. Why I hesitated. When we met the other day, I thought it was a little strange too... Whether it's the story of <Perks> or the provision of educational packages, it's a story that is only gain for me, but I felt like I didn't want to accept it. I had an impression that I somehow didn't want to touch it. That was just strange to me."

"Haa."

"But, I finally understood the reason."

Yuki met Shiro's gaze and said.

"I hate you."

(37/42)

Yuki watched closely so as not to miss even a slight change in Shiro's expression.

However, there was no change. Does it mean there was no agitation in particular—or was she agitated but covering it up perfectly? Either way, the words Yuki should continue with were the same.

"My bad. Saying something like this even though you came all the way here."

Yuki puts her hand on her own chest.

"But, it is my true feeling. I found out the true nature of this emotion. I hate you, your very existence."

Thinking about it, it might be the first time she hated a person. Yuki, who only had sparse human relationships in her life so far, never liked anyone specially nor hated anyone. This emotion was a first. She was so unused to it that it took this much time to know its true nature.

"Every single word you spit out displeases me. None of your behaviors are acceptable. I don't want to be involved with you ever again. I want you to exist in a world unrelated to me. It's not about superficial loss or gain, it's physiologically impossible. My instinct is saying I shouldn't get involved."

Without waiting for Shiro's reply, Yuki continued her words.

"So, I won't team up with you. It's useless no matter how much you use your tricks. Because I hate you. No matter what souvenir you bring, it's no good. The moment it touches your hand, it becomes something without charm to me. I won't team up with you no matter what. Even if I reach the <Appropriate Time>, I won't call you. ...I say this after having you teach me various things, but I recommend choosing another human for your plan."

Just as Yuki said that much, she heard the sound of a car stopping.

Near the apartment, another car stopped. Not a black car—but a pure white ambulance, undoubtedly dispatched from a hospital with ties to Management. From that car which came quietly without even sounding a siren, several humans stepped out. One of them was Yuki's agent.

"Yuki-san. The injured player is—"

At the agent's words, Yuki pointed toward the hallway. After seeing off the agent and several staff members entering the apartment, Yuki looked at Shiro again.

"Well, that's how it is,"

She says.

"Farewell. I hope we never meet again."

(38/42)

The night deepened, and the dawn broke.

(39/42)

Just like on the way there, Shiro rode in the agent's car and returned home.

She doesn't remember well about the time in between. Her thoughts wouldn't come together. She doesn't even know if she is shocked or depressed. It is a state where she doesn't even know the state of her own heart. When she realized, she was home, back in her own room, and she threw herself onto the bed Kokone had made and closed her eyes.

But, she couldn't fall asleep. Tormented by a disgusting sensation as if her brain was being stirred, she couldn't sleep. Is she shocked after all? She doesn't know. Shiro pressed her body against the bed for a while after that, but since she couldn't sleep no matter what, she thought of going out for a short walk.

When she went outside, the sky was already turning white. It is dawn. Had that much time passed? Shiro thinks. Did she lie on the bed for a longer time than expected—or did she have a time where she fell asleep actually, despite her recognition that she hadn't slept? In any way, it is dawn. Shiro used that time, the most pleasant of the day, to wander around the neighborhood of her home.

It was, at that time.

"—You seem to be beaten, my descendant."

She was late to realize that the voice was directed at her. Because she was in a daze.

She was also late to realize that it was his voice. Because it was an encounter after quite a long time—about a year in terms of time.

Shiro turns around. Just at the spot on the sidewalk Shiro was walking on, just at the point Shiro passed a few seconds ago, there was a child. The appearance that used to be intermediate between an elementary school student and a middle school student has grown enough to be clearly judged as a middle school student. He has grown taller, his body has become larger, and his Adam's apple was beginning to reveal its shape. It is a healthy growth for one year of a child in a growth period. However, regarding the androgynous atmosphere and the experienced presence unlike a child, they remained as they were.

"......Kuron."

Shiro mouths the child's name.

"Yes, Kuron. Long time no see, my descendant."

"Why, here?"

"I constantly grasp at least the movements of players," Kuron answers. "Especially—when players cause a dispute outside the game."

Tension runs through Shiro. Although she shouldn't have shown it on her face, "Rest assured," Kuron said.

"Regarding that matter, Management has no intention of saying this or that. Outside the game, you are free. As long as you don't do things that threaten our existence. ...I came, therefore, simply due to a rubbernecker spirit."

Kuron sits on the guardrail of the sidewalk.

"Apparently, it turned into a bad situation. was the plan to piggyback on that player named Yuki? If so, I can only say you made a bad move."

"......I know."

While answering so, Shiro examined her next words. Because she couldn't judge how much of the circumstances Kuron knew.

"However, this is an accident. I didn't know Awahime was heading to Yuki-san's place. Dragging her in was a consequential result."

"I wonder about that? I don't know the detailed circumstances but... From the impression I was watching, wasn't it impossible to woo that player named Yuki anyway? She doesn't seem to like the human known as you."

"............"

"It's likely 'that figures,' isn't it," Kuron shakes his head as if to say good grief. "Because, you, you are greedy to the point of being obvious—you say things pleasant to the ear, but in reality, the ideology that it's fine as long as you feel good is transparent. The smell of a savage beast that would trample others for self-interest is wafting. You aren't hiding your dark side at all. First-class humans are sensitive to that kind of thing."

There, Kuron laughed "Heh" as if he thought of something, and

"Come to think of it, you—I heard a little rumor, but I hear you failed to woo your Master too?"

At that time, Shiro.

Rare for her—felt something resembling the emotion of shame. It is an emotion as if her sore spot was poked, as if something she didn't want said was said. Of course, it is strictly a metaphor, and since there was no way she would harbor such an emotion, Shiro did not admit it. She didn't show it on her face either.

"You should have learned properly at the time of that failure," Kuron says.

"That there are opponents your methods don't work on. ...Now, anyway, you have angered her. Your plan has come to naught, but what on earth will you do? At this rate, it won't go as you desire. The <Perk> will become hers, and you will gain no benefit at all."

"—No."

Shiro answered.

Before she knew it, Shiro had returned to normal. Probably due to Kuron's words.

"It won't be like that. If I can't use her, I'll just use another. There are still plenty of moves to play. The one who gains the <Perk> is me. The one who becomes your successor is—this me. It is definitely not her or anyone else."

"Is that so."

Kuron said.

"Then, I expect much from you in the future too. My descendant."

(40/42)

At a time slightly before that.

Yuki was thinking.

(41/42)

The work of the staff who came to the apartment was truly brilliant.

In the blink of an eye, they put Awahime on a stretcher, carried her to the ambulance, and left. During that series of tasks—and while the sound of the car engine faded away, Yuki was thinking. About a matter that has a relation to this case that is by no means small—about the <Perk>.

Tonight, when she talked with Shiro on the phone, she was informed of its true nature. The perk for the achiever of ninety-nine clears—it was a kind of thing where one would think <Oh, that's it> once heard. It can even be said to be common.

In short, it is the position of General Manager of Management.

The <Management> of the killing game. Yuki knows the magnitude of its power well. It has the financial power and organizational power to set up large-scale games, holds a large number of free-spending <Audience>, possesses state-of-the-art technology of modern science represented by <Preservation Treatment>, and also has the execution ability to exterminate immediately if resistance forces appear. It also possesses the continuity to continue activities for decades without making any of those activities public.

All of that <Management>—an organization that should be called the King of the Underworld—becomes one's own. How much would its estimated value be? At least, it would be far higher than one human being. It is a reward suitable for betting one's life.

However—honestly speaking.

For Yuki, it wasn't a reward that made her heart dance very much. Yuki has no interest in money or power. The number ninety-nine itself is far heavier. When she heard the fact about the <Perk> from Shiro, Yuki inwardly felt relieved. Because she felt nothing. The existence of the <Perk> did not distort or break Yuki's heart. She thought it was strictly just a bonus attached to the goal of ninety-nine times.

But—there is a human aiming for it seriously. Shiro. The player with hair like a wolf. She, who has an atmosphere of strong desire just by looking, naturally would have a great interest in that <Perk>. And, if it is for that, she doesn't mind assigning hitmen to a former comrade and murdering her.

To such a Shiro, Yuki declared hostility.

What on earth does that fact mean?

"......Was this, for the best, I wonder..."

Yuki mutters.

In this matter, Yuki <Made an Enemy>. It is rare for her. Not being specially friendly with anyone nor being hostile, Yuki has been a player for many years with such a stance. Consciously making an enemy is something she has done very few times—like the case of a certain young lady once. Doing such an act even though physical damage is accumulating and it is a bad situation feels like a bad move.

However, she thought she should do so.

Yuki's instinct was saying she must keep that person away.

In any case, one cannot swallow spilt spit. She must respond to this situation. Yuki called the agent who should be riding in the ambulance by now.

When the phone connected, "Ah, hello, Agent-san—" she stated her business.

"I have a little favor to ask. Will you listen?"

(42/42)

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