That man had no name.
He might have been given one the moment he was born into this world.
That man had no nationality.
He was born in some country, but no one knew which.
That man had no family registry.
He was a single human being, yet nothing confirmed his relations or status.
That man had no individuality.
Everyone who met him either knew him or didn't, their perception of him shifting constantly.
That man possessed talent.
Name, nationality, registry, individuality—none of it mattered as long as he had that talent.
Ultimate Con Artist.
That was his sole proof of existence. A curse and an honor that left him with only one choice to "become" someone else.
Right now, in my field of vision, the man frantically repeating reckless actions was exactly that kind of person.
From the lower floors of a shattered high-rise, I observed and analyzed his behavior.
In what had once been a city now engulfed in flames, an organization had arrived to capture the remnants of despair.
"They're here!!"
Of all things, he was charging straight into their makeshift headquarters.
Dodging gunfire, slipping through gaps in modern weaponry. Wearing night-vision goggles, he judged the correct route even through black smoke and raced toward the temporary base at top speed.
His large, almost obese frame moved with surprising agility. He finally reached the base and destroyed their communication source.
Laughing loudly, he pulled something flag-like from his pocket and stabbed it into the ground—as if proving his own existence.
Once finished, he withdrew from the front line. In an instant he changed his appearance completely, escaping disguised as one of the organization's soldiers.
Fortunately, he was heading toward the building where I was.
To "converse" with him, I moved ahead to the entrance. A few minutes later, he appeared in yet another different form—just as expected.
"...Who the hell are you?"
He asked with open hostility.
A man whose white-based suit strained at the seams, wearing night-vision goggles.
I ignored the question and prioritized my own words.
"Why are you still using that talent?"
"...What?"
"Why do you constantly use that talent?"
"Hmph, what are you talking about? I am Byakuya Togami, Ultimate Affluent Progeny. I don't constantly use any talent. My stature simply exudes itself."
"No. I'm asking about the 'swindler' talent."
When I struck the core, the man before me froze for a moment.
Even through the night-vision goggles, his red eyes glinted suspiciously.
"You... how do you know about me..."
"If you can satisfy me, I'll answer that question."
"...Very well. Then listen—to my words."
He clicked his tongue before beginning.
He showed no displeasure at the one-sided information advantage the other held. Rather, he seemed almost gleeful as he spoke about himself.
The contradictions became glaringly obvious.
"As you say, I'm known as the Ultimate Con Artist. The one and only human who can deceive anyone and become anyone.
Now, why do I use this talent? Simple. Because I can become anything. Because that's who I am."
His eyes were a mess even through the goggles. An answer that explained nothing.
I already knew those traits.
"That's why I'm acknowledged! Affirmed as myself! ...Huh? But in the end I'm always impersonating someone."
"Huh? Why is that? Strange—I, me, I—why... why why why why?"
He laughing as he continued chanting "why."
"Boring."
The con artist's talent is in essence is the ability to skillfully use "lies."
A talent for deceiving both oneself and others. Thus, the only way to gain acknowledgment was through "affirmation from others."
An honor that forced him to continue—knowing full well that affirmation was directed at the person he impersonated—while suffering.
The only reset was "death." That was the curse-like nature of this talent.
I left the still-laughing man behind.
There was no satisfying answer, and I was growing bored with this despair.
To dispel the boredom, I began walking toward a new observation point.
"...So that was your encounter with him."
Time accelerated—to the present. Two days after the uninhabited island special exam ended. In an empty lounge.
Wearing the distinctive red-based uniform, I muttered to myself and lowered my gaze to the novel in my hand.
This book—borrowed from my classmate Shiina-san—was themed around a "swindler."
Perhaps that was why he had appeared in my dream after a nap.
And at the same time, it reminded me of that girl who possessed an inferior version of the same talent.
"Will she—who hasn't lost herself—find companions who accept and acknowledge her true self? Will she be able to expose her existence to those companions?"
Recalling one small amusement, I left the lounge.
...
Three days after the uninhabited island exam ended. Aboard the luxury cruise ship carrying us Advanced Nurturing High School students, peaceful time flowed without incident.
The weather remained constantly clear. No storms or high waves—students enjoyed a life free of inconvenience.
The harsh survival on the island was a thing of the past.
Students who had tasted near-euphoric triumph in the special exam, and those who had suffered bitter defeat—everyone was reveling in their youth without distinction.
In truth, an optimistic atmosphere could be observed everywhere among the students on the ship.
"...There's someone here already."
I was currently on the deck, holding the book borrowed from Shiina-san.
The deck where I had spent time with her before the uninhabited island exam began.
With too much time on my hands, I had planned to read in this relatively quiet spot.
But there was a prior occupant. On that bench, a boy and girl I didn't know by name were chatting amiably.
They were definitely from different classes. I don't forget anything I've seen unless I consciously choose to.
From observations during the island exam, I couldn't match faces to names, but faces to classes were already linked.
"Romance, is it?"
The couple in my view sat close, holding hands as they talked.
I had long surpassed understanding that emotion. Thanks to the remnants of Hinata Hajime within me, I even grasped the sensation.
Yet having understood it, I could declare with certainty that I have no need for affection.
"...I'll change locations."
Muttering quietly, I mentally listed alternative spots.
Deciding on one, I acted immediately. I left the deck at a brisk pace and headed for the rooftop pool.
I reached the roof without issue and entered the shop where swimsuits could be rented.
I borrowed a black one, changed in the dressing room, ordered a tropical juice, and went straight to a beach chair under a parasol.
"Kamukura-saaan!"
But today seemed to be a day when things wouldn't go smoothly. It was nearing lunchtime, so there should have been few people—yet someone called me.
As I settled into the chair and lay back, a tough-looking guy appeared with his friends in tow.
"What do you want, Ishizaki-kun, Komiya-kun?"
They were classmates, wearing swimsuits.
I had secured the spot farthest from the poolside for quiet relaxation, yet it was getting noisy again.
"No real business. But if you're coming to the pool, let us know."
"I came here to be alone, so I won't."
With my distinctive appearance, standing out was inevitable.
For a moment I considered cutting them off sharply, but it was honestly unimportant, so I stopped thinking about it.
"See, I told you, Daichi. Kamukura-san's off today."
"Yeah, you did... but he's the only one who can grant our 'hope.'"
"True, but we can't keep bothering him."
Unusually—truly unusually—Ishizaki-kun was seriously troubled.
Intrigued by the rare reaction, I asked him.
"Ishizaki-kun, what do you mean by 'hope'? Depending on the explanation, I might help."
"For real!? You're not lying!?"
"Yes."
Ishizaki-kun's eyes sparkled as he shouted.
He confirmed with Komiya-kun, then struck a victory pose.
"Then, could you come to the poolside first?"
I stood from the chair, placed the book I'd been holding next to the tropical juice on the small round table, and followed them.
We arrived at the poolside. There, Class C students—mostly girls—were playing, joyfully engaged in volleyball.
"Then, please! Kamukura-san!"
Ishizaki-kun bowed deeply, like a salaryman, without explaining why.
At this point, I had already guessed—no, I couldn't help guessing—what he would ask.
His bloodshot eyes and his slightly heavier breathing, and the look at the corner of his gaze told the story.
No need for super analytical ability.
"Just to confirm—what do you want me to do?"
"Kamukura-san... with your analytical skills—please analyze the girls' three sizes!"
Ishizaki-kun straightened from his bow, put on the most determined face he'd ever shown, and shouted his request.
Of course, my answer was...
"Boring."
Naturally.
This was my mistake for even momentarily considering helping them.
"N-No way..."
Ishizaki-kun dropped to one knee in disappointment.
Komiya-kun beside him covered his face, sighing that it was hopeless after all.
But just when I thought it was over, Ishizaki-kun raised his head as if to say it wasn't finished and declared...
"...Kamukura-san, before boarding the ship I found a new place that serves Japanese food."
"So?"
"I'll treat you to as many of their kusamochi as you want."
As expected. But my steps, which had started to leave, stopped.
Hmm. Quite a negotiation chip for Ishizaki-kun.
If I could eat as much satisfying kusamochi as I wanted for free, there would be benefit to me.
However,
"No thank you."
I refused firmly.
This time, Ishizaki-kun dropped both hands and knees to the ground in a near-dogesa pose of resignation.
Yet a final desperate move from the hidden reserve stole even more of my time.
"But Kamukura-san, can you really analyze three sizes?"
"It's possible."
"...Ugh, how do you even know that? Kinda scary, man."
Komiya-kun asked the question but immediately looked creeped out.
The Ultimate Analyst talent is originally one that can copy others' talents and improve upon them, but its true essence lies in overwhelming analytical ability.
If I felt like it, I could analyze three sizes even over clothing. In swimsuits—with such high exposure—the numbers would be flawless.
"Hah, then Kamukura-san could monopolize that info and—gueh!"
Splash!! A massive diving sound echoed across the pool. The girls playing volleyball naturally turned, as did the other students enjoying the water.
The cause was Ishizaki-kun's misfortune. Trying to say something unnecessary, he stood too quickly, slipped, and dove headfirst into the nearest pool.
"Ahaha!! What are you doing, Ishizaki? Pathetic!!"
"D-Don't laugh, help me!!"
"Ahaha, fine... whoa!!"
Komiya-kun reached to pull Ishizaki out but got dragged in himself, producing another huge splash.
I don't care about my own reputation, but I generally avoid actions that actively lower it, so I offered no sympathy for their behavior.
Yet perhaps it was precisely because of people like them that I had achieved the peculiar feat of using Ultimate Analyst in this way.
Musing on something between admiration and contempt, I walked back and finally reached the beach chair.
For once, I was rendered speechless.
"Hey there, Kamukura-boy. Is this book yours? Excellent choice."
The man in a boomerang swimsuit was drinking the tropical juice I'd bought and reading my book.
He lounged on the beach chair and greeted me with a pleasant smile.
"Are you free?"
It seemed today offered me no peace.
...
Kouenji Rokusuke. Sole heir to the Kouenji conglomerate and a first-year at Advanced Nurturing High School.
Exceptional in physique, appearance, analytical ability, physical prowess, luck, and many other areas—an outstanding individual who hardly seemed to belong in Class D.
I'd heard his academic performance was also high; truly befitting the Kouenji conglomerate's only son.
If I hadn't known of Byakuya Togami's existence, I would have labeled him the Ultimate Affluent Progeny without hesitation.
Yet even such a princeling isn't perfect. Every human has flaws.
He possessed one too—an extraordinarily unconventional personality. His wild unpredictability evoked a typhoon.
"Hmm, the sweets here are quite good."
The typhoon himself—Kouenji Rokusuke—sat facing me, eating jelly provided by the establishment.
The same dessert sat before me as well. Since it was served, I partook without reservation.
"What do you think, Kamukura-boy? Not bad, right?"
"Yes. This jelly is quite good."
"Isn't it? Hahaha!"
He laughed heartily simply because I confirmed the taste and gave my impression.
"Low in fat, pleasant flavor. Perfect for post-exercise sweets."
"Jelly digests easily and doesn't sit heavy in the stomach. Suitable for this slightly late hour before dinner. It won't interfere with enjoying a full meal."
"Naturally. Eating three proper meals a day is fundamental. I'm not the sort to overlook that."
The current time was just past four o'clock.
After encountering him just after lunch, I had accompanied his workout for about two hours before returning to my room once.
Then, after drying my hair, we had agreed to meet again here—for the meal we had long planned.
"Still, you're a fascinating individual. Not only did you keep up with my exercise, you show no signs of fatigue. Is swimming one of your strengths?"
"No. I've never felt any particular field was a strength."
"Hahaha, you say amusing things. Then let me hear the true meaning."
Even as he laughed, his faintly red eyes fixed firmly on me—strong, imposing eyes that sought to peer into a person's essence.
His boast of one day carrying Japan on his shoulders appeared grounded in genuine confidence.
"You've already guessed to some extent—yet you still want me to say it?"
"Indeed, my guess is likely correct. But there is 'value' in words from your own mouth. That is what I wish to hear."
"'Value'? You mean you want to 'evaluate' me."
"No, that's not it, Kamukura-boy. I judge that conversing with you holds 'value.'
I myself do. I assign 'value' to this time—to our exchange. Therefore, your words also possess 'value.'"
Everything is decided by himself alone.
Ego supreme. A fitting four-character idiom for him.
I had encountered this type before, but never to this degree.
"Now then, let's have your response, Kamukura-boy."
"It's simple. I can accomplish anything perfectly. 'Strength' is a polysemous word, but generally used when one is superior to a comparison. If everything is perfect, there is no basis for superiority or inferiority."
"Hahaha, exactly. If everything is perfect, there is no 'strength' and no need to feel it. A valuable opinion. However—allow me a slight correction."
Kouenji-kun countered with a meaningful pause.
His words intrigued me slightly, so I listened.
"Even if everything is a 'strength,' it is not perfect unless one can enjoy all of it."
"That I am not perfect?"
"Precisely. Perfection is a title reserved for me alone."
This man's guiding principle, through and through, was to follow his own whims. Easy to understand and accept.
Yet his definition of perfection eluded me.
That sparked my interest, so I continued the conversation.
"Enjoyment? Things can be accomplished perfectly without it."
"If one cannot enjoy, it is not perfect. Why not incorporate that new understanding?"
"Incorporating such understanding yields a predictable outcome."
Yes—such things are irrelevant. No matter the effort or enjoyment.
Certainly, proverbs like "love makes mastery" exist.
Effort alone—thinking "I'll try hard"—cannot surpass single-minded passion and the drive of enjoyment.
For someone who enjoys, effort is inevitable to reach deeper enjoyment. The starting dash is already lost.
But for me—for my talent—it is irrelevant.
"So—that is why you call it boring, Kamukura-boy."
I felt my eyebrow twitch slightly.
Kouenji-kun noticed my reaction but continued undeterred.
"Why not try to enjoy it yourself? Why declare it boring and give up? Why place expectations on others?"
Midway, Kouenji-kun stood and posed the three questions with some passion.
But before I could answer, he spoke again.
"Why do you not use that ability for your own sake?"
"I do. That's why my 'evaluation' is high. Even in our earlier exercise, I used my talent for myself."
To that, Kouenji-kun wagged his index finger side to side with a "non, non."
"Quite a nonsensical answer. What's needed is not 'evaluation' but 'value.' ...And I understand now, Kamukura-boy."
"You understand?"
"I had thought your inability to enjoy stemmed from laziness. But that doesn't seem to be the case. You simply use that talent because you must. Am I wrong?"
"Yes. Is there something odd about that?"
"Nothing odd. Among ordinary people, some crave 'evaluation' from others—boasting their abilities to satisfy exhibitionism. I'm accustomed to such types in my class.
But I see no such signs in you. In our earlier exercise, you claim you exerted yourself, yet regrettably it didn't appear so to me.
You merely did it. Did it because it was necessary. I saw only mechanical motion."
"Excellent observation. To you, I—who executes tasks precisely without enjoyment—must appear as a speaking machine."
Well said. As a manufactured hope, I am human, yet my essence is closer to a machine.
A machine that merely accomplishes what is ordered, what is requested.
Kouenji-kun had glimpsed my essence with his analytical prowess.
"That too is no. You are no machine—you are a living being. A human instinctively equipped with the emotion of enjoyment. You simply don't yet know how to enjoy things. Isn't it merely inexperience?"
"...What exactly are you trying to say?"
"Hahaha, it's simple. You are not perfect—because you cannot enjoy. Yet since you are human, with experience you will learn to entertain yourself. That is what I meant."
I offered no reply to those words. It was a matter I could dismiss as irrelevant.
Yet as I remained silent, Kouenji-kun spoke again.
"Hmm, perhaps I was a bit immature? But don't misunderstand, Kamukura-boy—I'm not belittling you.
I simply felt it was a waste. A man with potential equal to mine should not be so constrained."
"Hmm. Advice—from you, who cares for no one but yourself."
"That is how highly I expect of you, Hahahaha!"
Kouenji-kun's laughter rang throughout the restaurant.
Even the staff glanced over in surprise.
The loudest moment of the day, I thought frankly—yet within ten seconds the laughter ceased.
Suddenly, both our phones buzzed in our pockets.
"Oh my, I had it on manner mode."
Even on manner mode, sound was forced. And both phones at once.
The high-pitched tone indicated school mail. Given the situation, it was clearly important.
I took out my phone to check, but it proved unnecessary. An announcement came over the ship's speakers.
[To all students. We have just sent an important message from the school to every student's device.
Please check your phones and follow the instructions. If you have not received the message, please inform the nearest faculty member.
This is highly important, so please ensure you do not miss it. Repeating...]
"I see, I see."
Hearing the announcement, Kouenji-kun immediately checked his phone. I followed suit after his reaction.
Opening the message revealed the following...
[A special exam will begin shortly. Please gather in your designated room at the designated time.
Penalties may be imposed for arriving more than 10 minutes late. Please assemble in Room 205 on Deck 2 by 20:40 today.
The exam will take approximately 20 minutes, so please use the restroom beforehand and set your phone to manner mode or powered off.]
The words "special exam" were clear.
Three days after the uninhabited island exam—while enjoying the luxury cruise and beginning to relax—this timing. As malicious as ever, this school.
"Kamukura-boy, tell me your designated room and time."
Kouenji-kun pocketed his phone and turned to ask me.
"Room 205, 20:40. Yours?"
"Room 209 for me, at 18:00."
He showed me his screen as he spoke.
Times and rooms differed, but the rest of the text was identical. Given the announcement to all students, the other messages were likely the same—only room and time varying.
Dividing students into designated rooms for a limited-situational special exam.
I attempted to infer the full scope but judged the information insufficient and ceased thinking.
"Kouenji-kun, shouldn't you prepare to head to your room soon?"
"Indeed. It's a good stopping point, so I'll take my leave here."
His guiding principle was his own judgment, yet he acted promptly—showing at least some interest in the exam.
"See you, Kamukura-boy! Let's share another meal once we're back at school."
"I don't mind."
After the farewell, he departed at a pace most would call brisk.
I firmly committed our conversation to memory.
He had said it that even I could learn to enjoy through my own will.
It was the first time anyone had ever told me that.
Yet strangely, I felt no frustration.
"If I myself derive the 'unknown,' would that be enjoyable?"
I—who have observed from a third-party perspective—actively using my talent myself.
When I disrupt the field, does an unknown arise?
Not the unknown others create, but one I create—would that be interesting?
The prediction is clear. A boring future surely awaits.
Yet if the possibility exists for that future to change. In this environment with vast time, perhaps there is a chance.
It might be worth trying. Not major interference—eliminating small distortions could also be an option.
Seriously considering such things, my phone buzzed again.
This time not the high-pitched school tone, but the notification for the classmate chat app.
I quickly opened it. The sender was Ryuuen Kakeru.
[Tell me your designated room and time]
[Room 205, 20:40. Yours?]
I answered only what was asked. Read receipt appeared instantly.
[Room 207, 19:00. Don't do anything unnecessary]
Nothing further from him. All I knew was different timing. No need to speculate yet.
With plenty of time before the designated hour, now idle, I returned to my room at a brisk pace.
***
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