Togawa Fuuki didn't go to the hospital to visit a friend; he went because of a lingering shadow.
Daydream Cafe.
The eerie Stand that had attacked him in the Togawa Residence amidst a white mist, manipulating Chance as naturally as breathing, its bizarre abilities still made his heart tighten when he thought of them.
It was a terrifying power that could toy with probabilities and twist the trajectory of events—a loose tile, a suddenly slipping beam of light, or even a wisp of pollen-laden breeze from who knew where, all could become deadly killers at the most precise moment.
Although the mastermind behind the assassination had been purged by orders from "that person" as mentioned by the Togawa Family head, Fuuki still felt uneasy.
Would that Stand, which had developed its own consciousness, clung to Chance like a ghost, and directly fought him, truly leave no lingering trouble?
Theoretically, having its will completely eroded by White Snake, it shouldn't be able to transmit any valuable information. However, the phrase "theoretically" seemed so pale and powerless in the face of Daydream Cafe.
Its essence was to subvert common sense and create unexpected "Chances." Who could guarantee that, during that chaotic assassination, it hadn't, through some incredible coincidence, spread a shred of information about the Togawa Family, about him, Togawa Fuuki, to some unexpected corner?
"Accidents" were everywhere in life, and this was precisely the best breeding ground for Daydream Cafe. Until this potential, possibly nonexistent, danger was thoroughly resolved, he couldn't rest.
For this, his intelligence network was once again operating at high speed.
Objective: Filter out all individuals in Tokyo who had suffered accidental injuries within 24 hours after the assassination.
At the time, Fuuki used White Snake's ability to make the opponent believe their mission was complete, and return to its main body, laden with a large amount of unstable "possibilities."
It was imaginable what kind of "accidents" that main body would suffer under such a massive amount of white mist.
Car accidents, falls, sudden illnesses, even bizarre object impacts... The list ran into hundreds of people.
Cold data was cross-referenced with human intelligence, filtering out irrelevant, minorly injured, and clearly backgrounded individuals. Finally, several names were highlighted.
Among them, the name "Yuutenji Minoru" caught his eye—a bizarre car accident, severely injured and comatose to this day, with the timing subtly fitting.
More importantly, this person's tumultuous experiences, his mingling in wealthy circles inconsistent with his social status, and his unknown sources of income, significantly increased his likelihood on the list.
Following this lead, Fuuki's gaze naturally fell on the other party in that car accident— the Chihaya Family. Family background, family composition, accident details... All information was quickly compiled.
And at this moment, sitting before him, with a lively smile and clear eyes, was one of the individuals from the data: Chihaya Anon.
"Enrico-san, are you getting used to Tokyo? Do you find it too crowded here when you first arrived?"
Anon's voice was clear, with just the right amount of concern. She tilted her head slightly, pink hair slipping over her shoulder, and the sunlight streaming through the lobby's glass curtain wall cast a warm golden edge around her.
Fuuki withdrew his gaze from the distance, turning his eyes to her.
The girl in front of him matched the photo but was much more vibrant. Her unabashed vitality, which came rushing at him, was like the first ray of sunshine breaking through the dark clouds after a series of gloomy, rainy days.
She talked about Tokyo's crowdedness, complained about the smell of disinfectant in the hospital, and shared her aspirations for studying abroad in England. Each topic was lively and full of the straightforwardness of someone unhardened by the world.
Talking with her, Fuuki's taut nerves unknowingly relaxed a little.
It was a strange experience, as if she exuded an invisible "purifying" field that diluted the inherent oppression of the hospital and the slight gloom settled within him.
Her mental state was so full it was almost dazzling, carrying an almost innocent resilience, forming a stark contrast with his soul, which had been steeped in gloom for too long.
"It is indeed much noisier than the streets of London," Fuuki followed her topic, a gentle curve forming at the corner of his mouth, this was the most approachable expression he had carefully practiced.
"But it's also full of vitality, just like Anon-san."
Anon's cheeks instantly flushed, and she waved her hand a little shyly.
"Ah haha… Enrico-san is too good with words! But speaking of vitality, are people in England all very gentlemanly and ladylike? It feels like they're reciting poetry when they talk…" She then mimicked an exaggerated tone, couldn't help but laugh herself, revealing a cute canine tooth.
Fuuki looked at her vivid expression, and the unease in his heart, caused by Daydream Cafe, seemed to be further diluted by her laughter.
He naturally guided the conversation, talking about London's weather, the solemn atmosphere of the seminary, skillfully avoiding anything that might touch upon his true purpose.
Anon, on the other hand, enthusiastically shared her interesting experiences as a student council president here, her longing for studying abroad, and the preparations she was making for it.
As their conversation was in full swing, Anon's phone chimed. She looked down at it, a surprised expression on her face.
"Ah! It's my mom! She said they've already talked to Yuutenji's family, and it's a girl my age, so she told me to go up and see."
She looked up, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Fuuki, "By the way, Enrico-san's friend, is his name also Yuutenji…?"
"Minoru," Fuuki calmly interjected, this was precisely the meeting point in his plan, "Yuutenji Minoru."
"Eh?!" Anon's gray eyes widened in surprise, her mouth slightly agape.
"Really? What a coincidence?! Enrico-san's friend is…"
Fuuki nodded slightly, a perfectly timed trace of "surprise" appearing on his face.
"It seems the threads of Fate sometimes do weave surprising coincidences."
They exchanged glances and chuckled in unison.
Anon found the coincidence wonderfully interesting, while Fuuki's smile carried a knowing understanding of being in control and a clear awareness of this "coincidence."
The hospital elevator door chimed open, and they walked in side by side, the small space filled with a mix of disinfectant and the faint lemon scent from Anon.
The elevator ascended steadily, the numbers ticking up to the seventh floor.
Anon was still excited about the strange coincidence, quietly telling Fuuki about the Yuutenji family's girl her age, guessing what she might be like.
Fuuki, meanwhile, subtly adjusted his state, preparing to face the "target" Yuutenji Minoru in the hospital room, and his potential Stand reaction—if he still possessed that power.
The elevator door slid open again, revealing the relatively quiet corridor of the seventh floor of the inpatient ward.
However, this quiet was instantly shattered by a girl's scream, full of anger and despair!
"Y-U-U-T-E-N-J-I M-I-N-O-R-U—!!!"
The voice was so sharp it almost broke, tinged with a sob, like the wail of a wounded beast, echoing through the empty corridor, making one's eardrums buzz.
Anon flinched at the sudden roar, instinctively grabbing Fuuki's arm, then immediately letting go as if burned, her face full of shock and bewilderment.
She looked in the direction of the sound, only to see a short-haired girl with purple hair at the door of a nearby hospital room, her chest heaving violently, facing an empty bed inside.
"My… my tuition! My rent! My scholarship! How dare you… how dare you…"
Nyamu's voice was hoarse with anger. She rushed into the room, grabbed an empty lemon tea carton with a silly smiling panda printed on it from the bedside table, and furiously hurled it against the wall!
With a dull thud, the carton was completely deformed, falling weakly to the floor.
The hospital room was clearly empty, with only messy bedding and scattered, disassembled plaster splints on the floor, silently indicating that the person on the bed had long since fled.
Nyamu's anger was like a flame without a target, only futilely scorching the air and herself, finally turning into burnt ash…
Anon was completely stunned by the scene. She unconsciously swallowed, her voice trembling with a hint of uncertainty, as she whispered to the person beside her:
"We… we seem to have come at the wrong time?"
Fuuki was silent, his gaze sweeping over the empty bed, the scattered plaster, the deformed lemon tea carton on the floor, finally settling on the purple-haired girl's flushed profile, red with anger and grievance.
"…"
He didn't respond to Anon's whisper, just quietly watched this unexpected interlude.
His doubts about Daydream Cafe remained unresolved, and the subject he was supposed to verify had vanished without a trace—though seeing such a situation, he was ninety percent sure that the Stand's main body was indeed this person.
And the related clues had not been cut off either.
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