The boss's office had fallen completely silent, with nothing but the sound of pages being turned.
Asou Akiya stood before the desk, reaching out to read the report—the kind of confidential information only the boss was permitted to see.
Inayama Kigoro wasn't angry, or rather, he was incapable of feeling any negative emotions toward Asou Akiya. Randou had edited the boss' personality, removing anything that might be detrimental to his lover.
As a result, Asou Akiya had lost his sense of awe toward the boss.
A puppet on a stage that would neither hurt nor insult him, nor make things difficult for him. All he could do was manipulate the puppet from behind the curtain, observe the audience, and study every action the puppet had made while it was still alive.
After the boss's death, Randou had been deepening his understanding of medicine and the human body, while under Natsume Souseki's guidance, Akiya had also been studying the art of reading and understanding people's hearts, striving toward the bare minimum standard of a member of the "scriptwriting team."
"Boss, aren't you afraid the Colonel will rebel if you keep eliminating his people to secure your position?"
"Shouldn't the one who needs to be afraid be you, Akiya-kun?"
Inayama Kigoro teased him. Having seen through life and death, his temperament had undergone a tremendous change.
"Are you trying to make trouble for me?" Asou Akiya asked.
Inayama Kigoro looked completely at ease, his gaze distant and ethereal, with faint traces of the ruthlessness he had possessed in life.
"That's not how I'd put it. If you want to hold supreme authority, you can't allow any subordinate to have too much power. Nishida is gone, but there's still the Colonel and Yagishita. Only by weakening the two of them can we prevent them from developing rebellious intentions."
Inayama Kigoro tossed another document over. It detailed the measures he had taken to suppress Yagishita and his faction.
Within the Port Mafia, he had long since reduced everyone to a state where they dared to be angry, but not dare to speak.
The style of a true tyrant.
This was something that wouldn't change even after Inayama Kigoro regained his sanity. Habits cultivated over many years had made him accustomed to having the final say. At most, he was no longer plagued by constant paranoia or driven mad by the torment of illness.
"Akiya-kun, you're far too negligent in your duties as an Executive. You haven't even made any arrangements to protect yourself from me."
"..."
"How many people around you would be willing to risk their lives for you?"
"I don't need them to risk their lives."
"Haha, are you joking with me? An Executive who has climbed to the upper ranks of a Mafia yet doesn't pursue power, doesn't covet money, doesn't indulge in women, and spends all his time working in the office?"
"Is my behavior really that strange?"
Asou Akiya looked slightly confused, convinced that he hadn't done anything wrong.
Just like with any other job, the essence of being Chinese was to cling to your iron rice bowl and keep eating from it until retirement.
As far as he was concerned, the Port Mafia was simply a job he'd been curious about in his previous life. The pay was good, the work was demanding, and the educational requirements were low. He had paid a price for satisfying that curiosity, but he had never considered his attitude toward his work to be a problem. Compared to the days when killing people had made him sick, he'd gotten used to it by now.
The arrow had already been loosed from the bow. There was no turning back.
Once he had stepped into the darkness, he would never consider himself to have chosen the wrong path. At most, he had simply taken on a few more sins.
"Akiya-kun, you're not like the people of this country."
Inayama Kigoro's sudden remark made Asou Akiya's heart skip for a second. But then the rest of his explanation proved that he had simply been reading too much into it.
"You don't seem to fit in with everyone else. When I was alive, I could never see through you; And after death, I've become more settled, and this false soul of mine actually has the leisure to observe you. The more I watch you, the more astonished I become. You don't care about any of these things because you believe you can obtain them with a casual wave of your hand."
"Your ability to make money is extraordinary, so you don't care about wealth. Your status as a non-ability user limits you, so you don't covet positions that don't suit your identity. Your boyfriend is a French ability user whose looks and abilities surpass those of more than ninety-nine percent of Japanese men. He's got an exceptional physique, too—not the slender, delicate type of beauty favored by Japanese men. He's got plenty of flesh on his hips and thighs..."
"And there's one more thing." Inayama Kigoro laughed cheerfully. "Randou-kun lost his memories and has become extremely dependent on you. I can't help but wonder... whether all of this was your..."
...calculation.
Asou Akiya slammed the documents in his hand onto the desk.
"Enough with your nonsense!"
Inayama Kigoro's throat seemed to be clamped by an invisible force. His eyes opened wide, and although he opened his mouth, he couldn't utter a sound.
Randou had programmed him to obey Asou Akiya's commands.
A puppet could not disobey its master.
Yet the puppet's eyes could still betray a trace of will. He stared at Asou Akiya with a dark expression, wanting to see the look of anger and embarrassment on his face.
Unfortunately, that moment of discomposure vanished in an instant. Asou Akiya remained the same top-tier Analyst who had once dared to let Inayama Kigoro strangle him just to see which of them would die first.
Asou Akiya said, "Your suspicions are nothing more than your own imagination."
I didn't scheme against Randou, and I didn't use him. I respect the person he's become after losing his memories. I love him. I want to protect him, so he won't end up dying alone in a foreign land...
The only thing I schemed against was...
Asou Akiya forcibly suppressed the chaotic thoughts churning in his heart.
A certain name still broke through his reason, surfacing in his mind from beneath all his self-deception.
Arthur Rimbaud.
The name he had loved so dearly at first, the name that had later made him lose his nerve, caught in his throat. He didn't dare say it aloud so easily.
It was like a switch... waiting to be triggered.
"Boss, a competent leader only needs to concern himself with his work. He shouldn't interfere with other people's affairs."
"...Yes."
The order between master and subordinate had been completely reversed. The Port Mafia boss answered with a complicated expression.
In the end, it was the dead who bowed their heads first.
Outside, Nakahara Chuuya was asking all sorts of people for help with his homework. His friends from the group now known as "The Sheep" at school all pitched in, offering one wild idea after another.
"If they're soldiers, they could fight another war and prove themselves! Then their country would take them back as heroes!"
"It's not that easy."
"Return to their homeland? Would sending their corpses back count as a success?"
"Whoa, that's too brutal, dude. Hear me out—have them kidnap those government officials and force them to agree!"
"I think it would be better to buy their way back into the country..."
"Oh, right! There has to be a way to sneak them back in, right?"
Nakahara Chuuya recorded all the suggestions in his little notebook. Once he'd finished collecting them, he didn't say that any one person's idea was particularly good. Still, he secretly praised his friends.
So many 'unique' ideas; As expected of people from Suribachi City!
If you asked elementary and middle school students out there to answer, there was no way any of them could come up with a remotely decent solution.
The beautiful, snow-white Chinchilla "Ryuuji" was sprawled across Nakahara Chuuya's back, its sharp claws hooked into the fabric over his shoulder to keep from falling. It weighed around seven pounds, and even after being neutered, it hadn't gotten excessively fat. It was a gorgeous, aloof little fairy of a cat, and with such careful care, its looks were easily on par with a Ragdoll of the same price range.
Quite a few of Chuuya's friends were girls, and their eyes practically lit up when they saw the cat.
It is so beautiful!
When have they ever seen such a gorgeous cat?
"Chuuya, can I pet it?" Yuan and another short-haired girl crowded around him, approaching from either side in an attempt to get his permission.
Ryuuji immediately went from relaxed to alert. It arched its body, raised its tail, and bared its teeth threateningly.
Chuuya wrapped the Chinchilla in his gravity ability to keep it from accidentally hurting his friends.
He said helplessly, "This cat doesn't like being touched by other people. If you want a cat, I can pick up a stray for you next time I'm out."
Yuan complained, "Could a stray cat possibly be as pretty as this one?"
Chuuya didn't budge. "It was a gift to Akiya-san and Randou-san."
The cat wasn't his to give away, so he couldn't force it to put on a show for them.
Chuuya offered another suggestion. "Instead of asking me all the time, why don't you buy it some tasty treats and make it happy? Then it'll come over to you on its own and let you pet it."
The girls could only stare wistfully at the cat before reluctantly agreeing.
It seems like they have to be a little more careful with their pocket money.
Every Sheep member who was willing to attend school received a fixed allowance of 3,000 yen each month. Asou Akiya also covered their basic food, clothing, and shelter. If they wanted a better quality of life, they had to leave the old dormitory building during weekends and holidays to look for part-time work.
On his way to find his teacher, Chuuya placed an international call to Kudo Yusaku.
No answer.
The famous novelist was probably shut away in his study, writing in peace.
Giving up on his "External Brain No. 4," he dialed "External Brain No. 5" instead—Kudo Shinichi.
No matter how reluctant he was to admit it, he had come to realize that 6-year-old kids really could be frighteningly smart.
Beep... Beep...
"Hello? Chuuya-nii? Did you need something?" Kudou Shinichi's cheerful voice came through the line. "Let me guess. Ranpo-nii couldn't help you, so now you're calling in the rest of us as backup?"
He really... was that smart.
Not daring to let his pride get in the way, Chuuya explained the impossible homework assignment from beginning to end.
When he finished, he added, "I couldn't get through to your dad. Could you let him know for me?"
"Your homework is terrifying!" Shinichi exclaimed from America. The sound of hurried footsteps followed as he slipped into his slippers and ran toward his father's study. "Hang on! I'll email you both my ideas and my dad's. Don't underestimate me just because I'm little, more brains are better than one! It's still the same email address you gave me back in Hawaii, right? I'll send everything tomorrow during the day!"
The call ended.
Only then did Chuuya belatedly remember that there was a time difference between Japan and the United States.
Exactly how much faster... if he remembered correctly, Japan was seventeen hours ahead of America. The first time he came back from an overseas trip, it had taken him an entire day to get over the jet lag.
"Next call... External Brain No. 3. Hopefully he isn't still holding a grudge against me. At least there's no time difference between Tokyo and Yokohama."
Nakahara Chuuya muttered to himself.
At the Special Division for Unusual Powers, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko sat expressionlessly inside a classified facility after being escorted in by government personnel. When his personal phone rang, several people nearby frowned in disapproval.
Seeing the caller's name, Shibusawa tilted his head.
—Do I have any connection with him?
—No.
Shibusawa would never forget the orange-haired boy who had literally beaten him to tears in the Mist Zone. That punch had hurt so much it felt as though his organs had twisted inside him. The only reason he hadn't taken revenge was because he still lacked the strength to settle the score.
"What is it?" Shibusawa answered. "This isn't a good time for me to talk."
Chuuya was quick enough to catch the implication.
"I'll email you!"
"All right," Shibusawa replied. "I'll get back to you tonight."
The call ended.
The white-haired boy powered off his phone and handed it over to the agents of the Special Division for Unusual Powers. Then, under the guidance of an even higher-ranking official, he entered the classified base for the "Transcendent Cultivation Program."
There, he waited to undergo the examinations he detested—but had no choice except to accept if he wanted power.
A bunch of ordinary people trying to create a "god"?
How interesting.
Throughout the grueling, unforgiving process, Shibusawa Tatsuhiko endured wave after wave of pain as his Ability was pushed to its absolute limit. His Mist Zone could no longer expand any further at its current stage.
He wanted to grow stronger.
He wanted his Mist Zone's control over Abilities to surpass everyone else's.
In Japan, there would one day be no Ability user stronger than him.
He would become the ultimate Ability user.
As currents designed to awaken the human body's latent potential surged through him, Shibusawa's vision began to blur. Without sparing the monitor's endless stream of numbers a glance, he suddenly asked from inside the machine,
"What is a Transcendent?"
Behind the transparent wall of bulletproof glass, the researchers outside froze.
Has the core secret of the project been leaked?
The head of the Special Division for Unusual Powers, Taneda Santoka—whose few stubborn tufts of hair still clung defiantly to the top of his head—studied this promising candidate with the potential to become a Transcendent. After a moment's consideration, he offered a measured explanation.
"A Transcendent is the title given to the highest class of Ability users in the world. Every nation hopes to possess one—an Ability user who serves as the equivalent of a nuclear weapon."
Shibusawa asked another question.
"Does Japan have one?"
Taneda Santoka slowly shook his head, his expression heavy.
No.
Japan remained shackled by its status as a defeated nation.
A satisfied smile spread across Shibusawa Tatsuhiko's face.
That's right, he is delighted.
Japan didn't have one!
That meant Asou Akiya, Edogawa Ranpo, and Nakahara Chuuya had all fallen short of the level of a Transcendent. The only person deemed worthy by the Transcendent Training Program was him!
As for Randou?
Shibusawa Tatsuhiko refused to believe France would ever let one of its "nuclear weapons" become the wife of a Japanese man.
The White Kirin stood proud and elegant, his bearing lofty and commanding.
"I'll be the one!"
Once he became a Transcendent, he would trap everyone in Akiya-sensei's household inside his Mist Zone and watch their own Abilities hunt them down.
Then, at the very end, he would admire the beautiful Ability crystals they left behind...
Just imagining it filled him with purpose, with the drive to keep living.
The brilliance of human nature...
It was simply too dazzling.
...Ugh, this hurts.
Damn these tests!