Charles and Stella changed into local clothes, which, to them, felt a bit dated. Still, with faces like theirs, even "corny" outfits drew plenty of eyes.
After all, this world was already in the '90s—much better than those other worlds stuck at a medieval level of civilization.
Beyond that, what Charles could sense was the world's fragility. Not only were the energy particles in the air thin; even the world itself couldn't withstand overly powerful forces.
Charles and Stella both had to rein in most of their power, lest a flick of a finger cause massive destruction.
Realizing that left Charles a bit disappointed—it meant this world's power ceiling wouldn't be very high.
So meeting high-quality opponents like Lucifero and Lucius one after another, like in the last world, was out of the question.
All he could hope for now was that this world had some special techniques or knowledge worth learning. Otherwise, it'd really just be an ordinary trip.
But first, they needed to confirm which world this was.
Stella, for her part, didn't worry about any of that. She was quite interested in Japan's '90s under a "normal historical track."
After all, Stella came from a European kingdom where superpowers and mad science existed.
With no leads for the moment, Charles had to focus on getting them settled.
Using hypnotic magic, he successfully rented a sizable house. He wasn't about to bully ordinary people with magic, so he paid with a sizable gemstone for the rent.
With the landlord's help, he also secured basic spending money.
Sure, Charles could imitate a certain down-on-his-luck Demon Lord and use hypnosis to obtain official ID outright. But sorry—his homeland didn't recognize dual citizenship.
Even if it were only ceremonial—even if he'd gone to another world—Charles wouldn't do that.
Once they were settled, Charles and Stella began gathering intel on this world.
The presence of energy particles meant there was extraordinary power here. No matter how well its wielders hid, they'd leave traces.
Even if Charles had some issues with Japan, he had to admit it was indeed prosperous at this time.
To soar in the postwar era as a defeated nation—they'd clearly caught the right tailwind. It's just that the wind later shifted, and down they went—that's another story.
They were in the Tokyo metropolitan area, the most bustling place. After several days searching nearby, they found nothing.
Eventually, neither of them was in a rush; they treated it like a date and had a great time.
Back home, though, Charles started thinking it over. The extraordinary powers in this world were very well hidden—likely their own circle, keeping ordinary people out.
From experience, such powers were probably tucked into the city's underbelly. With patience, he'd find threads to pull.
It was also possible there were special secret realms or spaces where the extraordinary gathered.
If so, that would actually be easier for Charles; such places tended to spawn urban legends. With some intel gathering and his senses, they wouldn't be hard to find.
The worst case was the extraordinary being hidden far from people—then he'd have to search bit by bit.
Rubbing his brow, Charles set the thoughts aside. He and Stella had a shopping date tomorrow—that'd be tiring enough. No point stewing tonight; better to rest early.
Who knows—maybe tomorrow they'd run into someone who could tell him what world this was.
Charles hadn't expected he might have developed a knack for prophecy…
The next day, Charles trudged behind an excited Stella, arms loaded with shopping bags.
What a miscalculation. He'd assumed Stella wouldn't think much of goods from this era. Who could've guessed humanity's creativity is terrifying when it comes to making money off women?
Clothes, jewelry, cosmetics, shoes, bags—Charles honestly couldn't tell much difference from later generations.
Just when Charles figured today's only "gain" would be the goods in his hands, something unexpected happened.
As they passed an intersection, they spotted five or six people leaning against a wall, eyes fixed on Charles and Stella.
Leather jackets and pants, studs in ears and lips, necklaces and rings galore. Hair dyed in bright colors, styled into mohawks and pompadours.
In the eyes of passersby, this look screamed good-for-nothing—in short, a gang of punks.
One carried a baseball bat, another wore brass knuckles, another dragged a chain. Plainly, they weren't here with good intentions.
One of Charles's brows twitched, and he couldn't help but feel amused.
Judging by them, they'd had their eyes on him for a while—his easy, generous paying at the mall must've made them think they'd found a fat sheep to fleece.
But Charles hadn't noticed them at all because their presence was too weak. So weak that even their hostile intent didn't register to his senses.
He was being careful—there were plenty of stories of people underestimating the weak and getting burned.
If these guys had the air of someone who'd trained, he would've sensed them. But they were just layabouts who scared ordinary people, nothing more.
Stella covered her mouth with a laugh. She'd faced terrifying enemies with Charles, but she'd never run into a situation this… speechless.
Her laugh left the punks dazed. After a long beat, the red-haired leader wiped his mouth and swaggered over.
"Yo, kid. Don't recognize your face. New around here?"
Charles's brow twitched. He could already guess his next lines.
"This is Murata big bro's turf. If you wanna hang around, pay your protection fee like a good boy. You seem loaded—hand over two hundred thousand today, and maybe I'll watch over you a little more in the future."
Redhair jabbed a finger into Charles's chest, while his goons formed a circle, hefting their weapons to scare him.
They couldn't sense how dangerous Charles really was, but they could see his height and build—that gave them some pause.
Extortion wasn't enough—Redhair turned to Stella. "As for you, miss, you're coming with us for a nice drink."
As he spoke, he made the mistake of reaching for Stella's face.
Crack!
The goons were still wondering what that weird sound was when Redhair's scream followed.
Charles had his already-broken wrist in his grip. "Hey. Have a little sense, will you? Don't ruin someone else's good mood."
"It hurts! What are you idiots waiting for—get him!"
Only then did the goons process what had happened. In a moment they hadn't even seen, their "fat sheep" had snapped their boss's wrist.
Apparently it hadn't occurred to them that meant the man before them wasn't a fat sheep. At their boss's command, they charged, weapons swinging.
…
Three seconds later, the punks were sprawled on the ground, groaning in pain.
Dealing with them was actually tricky for Charles; he had to carefully control his strength so they wouldn't die on the spot.
He picked up the shopping bags and said to Stella, "Let's go home. Seriously, I didn't expect the first fight in this world to be like this."
Stella smiled. "Not at all. I love seeing you protect me."
That made Charles blush, though the thought that these punks hadn't been able to touch even a single strand of Stella's hair from the start felt… odd.
Just then, Charles suddenly turned to look toward a nearby corner.
There stood a boy with both hands stuffed in his pockets, wearing a green junior high uniform, hair slicked back to reveal a pleasant face.
With that cocky, careless air, he looked like a delinquent too—but he was nothing like the guys on the ground.
Charles could feel the power hidden within him—immature and weak, with no sign of training, but with considerable potential.
Most importantly, the sight of him stirred a distant memory in Charles.
So this was the world he'd come to!