A cool morning light filtered through the tall windows of PSIA's Kanto branch headquarters. Hiroshi Kobayashi walked the corridors in a neatly pressed charcoal suit, shoulders slightly hunched in deference, an earnest half-smile on his face. To any observer, he was every bit the greenhorn Assistant Director – overly polite, eager to please, almost painfully naive. He bowed twice to the same passing administrator and apologized profusely when he nearly collided with a secretary at the elevator. The secretary waved it off with a chuckle, thinking nothing of the young man's fumbling courtesy. No one noticed anything amiss. In the eyes of the branch's staff, Assistant Director Kobayashi was a benign non-entity – competent enough in paperwork, but hardly a threat to anyone's schemes. Exactly as planned.
Inside the elevator, Hiroshi's gentle smile faded for an instant. In the polished steel doors' reflection, he caught sight of two fellow officers behind him – one he knew was an honest analyst, the other a mole feeding intel to foreign spies. The mole, Section Chief Kitamura, stood relaxed, even amiable, as he scrolled on his phone. Kitamura thought himself completely in control. Hiroshi had spent days cultivating that sense of security, playing the part of a meek junior who deferred to Kitamura's "experience" at every turn.
As the elevator doors opened, Hiroshi stepped out first then quickly pivoted to hold the door for the others with a polite bow. "After you, Chief!" he insisted. Kitamura nodded in appreciation and strode past, oblivious to the subtle scrutiny behind Hiroshi's dark eyes. Body language spoke volumes: the slight uptick at the corner of Kitamura's mouth as he glanced at Hiroshi was smug satisfaction. The traitor chief clearly believed he had the Assistant Director wrapped around his finger. Hiroshi kept his head bowed and expression sheepish to reinforce that belief.
In a morning briefing, Director Takeda – the branch chief and ringleader – convened his division heads around a long conference table. Hiroshi took a modest seat near the end, a thin binder of reports in front of him. As Takeda droned on about "operational excellence" and "remaining vigilant against external threats," Hiroshi nodded enthusiastically at each platitude, even jotting fake notes. His keen eyes, however, roved over the faces of those gathered. He watched for every micro-expression: the flicker of worry in Takeda's eyes when he mentioned a recent Internal Affairs audit; the tight press of Chief Mori's lips when overseas intelligence leaks were brought up; the feigned boredom of Kitamura that didn't quite hide a sheen of sweat on his brow.
Hiroshi interjected only once, in an innocuous tone: "Perhaps we should consider stricter chain-of-custody protocols for classified documents, sir. Just as a precaution?" He delivered it with a nervous smile, as if unsure of himself. Takeda gave him an indulgent look and chuckled. "A fine suggestion, Kobayashi-kun, but unnecessary. We have complete trust in our staff here," the Director replied, voice smooth. Around the table, a few traitors exchanged hooded glances and faint grins. The very idea of a security crackdown at this branch was amusing to them. Hiroshi blushed on cue and ducked his head. "Of course, sir. I only meant— My apologies if I overstepped," he stammered. A ripple of quiet laughter circled the room; exactly the reaction he wanted.
They still think I'm harmless.
As the meeting adjourned, Hiroshi shuffled his papers and made a show of accidentally spilling them. "So clumsy—ah!" he yelped as sheets scattered across the polished floor. Deputy Director Ito, one of the few honest officials left, bent to help him gather the papers. But Hiroshi had caused the distraction intentionally. While kneeling, he angled a quick glance under the table. There, attached to its underside right beneath Director Takeda's chair, glinted a tiny listening device – one Kobeni had planted the night before. Satisfied it was still in place and unnoticed, Hiroshi let Ito assist him to his feet.
"Thank you, Ito-san, I'm hopeless sometimes," he murmured self-effacingly. Ito patted his shoulder kindly. "No trouble. We've all been young and overwhelmed. You're doing fine," the older man said. Over Ito's shoulder, Hiroshi caught sight of Chief Mori watching the exchange. Mori's eyes were narrowed with suspicion. Of all the traitors, Mori had been the wariest of Hiroshi's sudden appointment. Now he studied Hiroshi's clumsy display with a cold, calculating look. Hiroshi responded by flushing red and hurrying out of the conference room as if embarrassed beyond measure. Behind him, Mori's skepticism eased; the Chief gave a soft snort, convinced anew that the Assistant Director was nothing more than an overeager child.
As Hiroshi exited to the hallway, he allowed himself the faintest hint of a smirk while loosening his tie. In those brief moments of playing the fool, he had gathered plenty: Takeda's deflection on security measures confirmed he was hiding something; Mori's predatory stare reaffirmed his guilt; Kitamura's smugness hinted he'd passed off some intel recently – his phone likely held clues. Every subtle movement, every bead of sweat, every forced chuckle was a puzzle piece to Hiroshi's practiced eye. Psychological infiltration wasn't just about masks and gadgets – it was reading souls through posture and tone, luring the enemy into revealing themselves without ever realizing it.
Hiroshi glanced at his watch. Only a couple of weeks remained before the hammer would fall – a hammer he intended to wield with absolute precision. But first, more pieces of the traitorous network's puzzle needed to be placed. As he walked down the corridor, he spotted Section Chief Sako, one of the mid-level moles, stepping out of an office with a file tucked under his arm. Sako's gaze darted around nervously until he saw Hiroshi approaching. Instantly, the man's demeanor shifted; he plastered on a genial smile. "Ah, Kobayashi-kun! Good morning," Sako greeted, a bit too heartily.
Hiroshi returned a beaming, slightly flustered bow. "Good morning, Chief Sako! I-I have those clearance forms you requested yesterday. May I bring them by later?" he asked.
Sako waved a hand. "No rush, no rush. End of day is fine." The older man looked Hiroshi up and down, as if reassessing him. Hiroshi met his eyes with guileless admiration. "Your briefing summary last week was incredibly thorough, sir. I learned so much," Hiroshi added for good measure. It was a lie – Sako's briefings were intentionally incomplete to hide his misdeeds, something Hiroshi's team had verified. But the flattery made Sako preen.
"Always happy to mentor our rising stars," Sako replied, puffing his chest. Yet even as he spoke, a tremor in his voice betrayed him. Dark circles hung under Sako's eyes and his fingers drummed anxiously on the file folder he carried. He's stressed, Hiroshi noted. After all, last night Sako had secretly handed off a stolen case file to a Shijō Corp agent in an alley – an act Denji had witnessed from the shadows. Sako had no idea the PSIA's new Assistant Director had arranged that file as bait and then ordered his operatives not to intervene… not yet. The mole likely barely slept, worrying whether the deed had been noticed.
Hiroshi gave a sympathetic tilt of his head. "Chief, you look tired. These long hours get to everyone." Sako blinked, then let out a self-pitying sigh. "It's been… stressful lately, Kobayashi-kun. So much pressure from upstairs." His eyes darted in the direction of Director Takeda's office. "Sometimes I envy your youth. You still have the energy."
Hiroshi offered a friendly grin. "If it gets too much, my uncle always swore by a strong drink after work to clear the mind. Perhaps you should treat yourself tonight?" He lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Between us, I go for plum wine on the tough days."
A flicker of longing crossed Sako's face. "Ha! Perhaps I will. A drink sounds well-deserved." He clapped Hiroshi on the arm. "Don't pick up my bad habits though, kid. Too early for you to turn to the bottle!"
Hiroshi laughed innocently, "Oh, of course not. Just one, now and then." As he took his leave, he knew Sako would indeed drink tonight – the man's nerves were fraying, and Hiroshi had subtly nudged him toward the solution he craved. By planting the idea of drowning stress in liquor, Hiroshi set the stage perfectly. Sako would find his way to a bar stool by late evening, searching for solace at the bottom of a glass. And when that moment came, Hiroshi would be ready to play a very special role.