For a killer, there is no such thing as confession—only revenge, and revenge against betrayal.
This was common knowledge among all freelance assassins, and Daniel was no exception. Surrounded by police, he forced himself to endure, refusing to activate his ability, and as a result he was sent to an ordinary prison rather than an international facility for ability users. When he thought of the infamous British prison known as "Meursault," Daniel would much rather tolerate these guards from a backwater country than be handed over to Britain through Japan's diplomatic channels, to become prey for the Clock Tower's attendants.
Would Italy protect him?
Daniel couldn't be bothered to entertain such a slim possibility. Relying on himself was far more realistic.
"Even the countryside has its advantages—a bunch of idiots," Daniel sneered as he altered his appearance and returned to Yokohama. The hatred in his eyes had not eclipsed his reason; instead, it sharpened his suspicion toward his employer. "If you want to lock up an unidentified foreign assassin, the bare minimum would be a facility guarded by ability users."
Daniel wanted a swift resolution. He intended to strike without warning. He thoroughly investigated every place where his employer, Watanabe Yukisada, was known to frequent, and in the end, he found him at a private bar.
Recently, Watanabe Yukisada had run into serious trouble.
Kimura Semei had gone missing, and Watanabe Yukisada became a prime suspect. The reason was simple: the two of them had been seen getting off a vehicle together and leaving. Watanabe Yukisada couldn't produce any solid explanation and, stammering, claimed that Kimura Semei had wanted to become his lover.
The Port Mafia boss scoffed, assuming it was a joke. However, the would-be executive's helpless, conflicted expression, coupled with testimony from others after work, all pointed to the same conclusion: Kimura Semei had intended to defect to Watanabe Yukisada. There was no reason for Watanabe Yukisada to murder an ability user from within the Port Mafia.
"So Asou Akiya didn't die, but Kimura Semei did?"
If this had involved someone else, suspicion would have centered squarely on Watanabe Yukisada. But the Port Mafia boss was paranoid to the extreme; he placed everyone even remotely connected under suspicion, which paradoxically eased the restrictions on Watanabe Yukisada.
As a result, although Watanabe Yukisada remained under scrutiny, he kept a low profile in the absence of definitive evidence. The private bar became his refuge for soothing his nerves, a place where acquaintances could always find him.
When Watanabe Yukisada saw the assassin Daniel, he appeared utterly composed—unnaturally calm. He even raised his glass in Daniel's direction, smiling faintly. "Care to sit down for a drink, Italian boy?"
Daniel had only ever seen that kind of unshakable poise in the big bosses of the Italian mafia.
He let out a mocking laugh. "You've got some nerve."
Daniel sneered, his tone dripping with mockery. "You've certainly got guts."
"Yes, that's right—it was me who betrayed you and sent you to rot in prison for a while."
Watanabe Yukisada took a slow sip of red wine whose flavor he could still clearly perceive, and in accordance with the operating logic set by Illuminations, he calmly shouldered the blame meant for Asou Akiya, neatly patching every loophole in that account. Reduced to a puppet, a prospective executive of the Port Mafia, he spoke with a mixture of sorrow and rueful reflection. "You really shouldn't have escaped. That place was where your only path to survival lay."
Daniel was so angry he nearly laughed. "Were we ever that close?"
Using such a nauseatingly familiar tone!
"Do you know," Watanabe Yukisada asked, fixing his gaze on the assassin who seemed like a living specter, "at what moment people speak the truth?"
Even as he faced an assassination attempt, he did not move at all, allowing the dagger to sink into his heart while he swallowed the last mouthful of his finest wine.
Daniel was just about to pull the blade free when his hand suddenly stiffened. As if shocked by electricity, he leapt backward in a flash.
There was no blood flowing from the wound in the man's chest.
"At the moment of death."
Yukisada Watanabe smiled at Daniel. His complexion was rosy, healthier than that of most middle-aged men who had long since exhausted themselves.
The living lie.
Only the dead, outside of any preset program, will speak a fragment of the truth.
Watanabe Yukisada pulled the dagger from his chest and casually tossed it onto the floor. His heart continued to beat, and the wound on his body repaired itself as though it had all been an illusion—no, it was not healing, but repair.
Humanoid abilities possess no flesh and blood to begin with.
"Impressive, isn't it? A flawless performance of being alive." Watanabe Yukisada praised his current state without restraint. "If the one controlling me weren't too busy having sex to bother with me right now, I probably wouldn't even have the chance to exchange a few more words with you."
"So you're saying it wasn't you who betrayed me?" Daniel probed, guessing at the man's intention as a chilling cold crept up from the depths of his chest.
"No, it was me."
Watanabe Yukisada would not violate the most basic parameters of his design.
He obeyed Randou, and Randou had designated Asou Akiya as his primary master; a servant could never betray his master.
"My soul seems to be bound to this false body, forced to experience the human world every second of every minute," the already-dead Watanabe Yukisada murmured, the humanoid Ability sitting inside the private bar smiling in rapture. "I truly do not want to leave… there are still so many beauties I have yet to enjoy."
That smile was born of an obsession with breath, with life itself.
A counterfeit existence.
A fabricated survival.
"Ah… it seems I've said far too much," the middle-aged man said apologetically. "I'm sorry. I already gave you your chance, but you failed to kill me in a single blow. So now—my turn."
"You're very fortunate, assassin."
He tossed aside his gloves and revealed himself in the traditional manner of the Port Mafia. "The one who kills you will be me. Death is an ending—not the beginning of a true nightmare."
Daniel suffocated beneath the weight of those words and let out a cold laugh. "You? Just you?"
The man replied calmly, "Do you know what benefits an Ability gains when it loses its human identity?"
Power surged outward from the body of the Port Mafia's probationary executive.
"This is when I am at my strongest."
Come and witness it—
the strength of a mere sub-executive from a so-called insignificant organization in the Far East, as judged by the nations of Europe.
This world runs far deeper than you think, kid.
...
"Ah—!"
Inside the bedroom at home, Randou let out a sharp, involuntary cry under the sudden stimulation. His eyes nearly transformed into dense, molten gold—cold, merciless, bearing the unmistakable aura of a Transcendent.
Yet that terrifying gaze was gently claimed by Asou Akiya's kiss.
"Randou, your eyes are too beautiful."
After the humanoid Ability of Watanabe Yukisada was destroyed, the brilliant, radiant Illuminations flared to life, flooding the room with light.
Randou laughed with reckless abandon.
The pleasure of killing surged through him.
Because of flaws in the original parameters and the consequences of leaving it under autonomous management, the newly acquired humanoid Ability was rendered obsolete at the very moment Randou lost himself in his lover's arms. It had executed a final, extreme one-for-one exchange—killing the enemy and perishing alongside the assassin.
[Next… the traces must be cleaned… a new humanoid Ability must be prepared…]
Fragments of instincts from his days as an intelligence operative resurfaced, piece by piece.
Panting, Randou's eyes clouded over again, the mist returning to them, no longer so feral. He bit down lightly on Akiya's finger.
"Akiya, my tool has been destroyed."
"That assassin?" Akiya asked. "Was he really that formidable? I thought a humanoid Ability stripped of human weaknesses would be stronger than a mere killer."
"Mmm… Italian Ability users do have some bite."
"Are you going out, Randou?"
"…Don't want to go out… it's so late…"
"Then just switch to a new tool. You didn't dispose of the body stored in subspace last time, did you?"
"Ah… I almost forgot… thankfully, I didn't throw it away…"
Prompted by Akiya, Randou remembered the still-usable "Kimura Semei," left behind to continue playing dead. It might be useless elsewhere, but it would do well enough for running errands.
Randou pecked at Akiya's fingertip, perfectly embodying what it meant to be a devil of a lover.
"Akiya, what kind of person do you think I really am?"
His Ability was far too terrifying for Randou to deny.
If Illuminations was something that obeyed the heart, then did that mean he was someone born with the urge to toy with death, to play with the lives of others?
"That question—" Asou Akiya understood the knot in his heart and spoke slowly, gently. "To me, you are like the poems you write: a medium, someone who bridges the surreal and the real."
Akiya's gaze seemed to see straight through Randou's soul, carrying a quiet smile, warm and gentle, never piercing.
"If that confuses you, then write poetry for your Ability," he continued. "The day you truly understand it will be the day you completely master it. I believe Illuminations carries your soul within it—just as beautiful, just as free and unrestrained. Human beings are creatures of infinite possibility and endless growth."
His words were somewhat profound.
Randou did not fully understand them, yet he believed in that guidance all the same. His brows eased, his limbs sinking into the sensation of the present moment.
With his thoughts drifting, Randou spoke without realizing it.
"Akiya, do you really have no Ability at all?"
"No, I don't."
"But you understand so much, Akiya…"
"Because once, like many others, I longed for Abilities too," Akiya replied softly. "I didn't want to fade into mediocrity."
"Akiya is anything but ordinary."
Randou propped himself up on his upper body, his fluffy tail looping around his waist. His smile carried a youthful innocence, as if touched by a fleeting fragment of beautiful time—something precious, and already slipping beyond reach.
"If you have me," he said lightly, "then don't you already possess a powerful Ability?"
Once—
Asou Akiya had thought so too.
Randou had been his golden finger, his cheat, the precious treasure he had clutched tightly in this world.
"That's not it," Akiya murmured, so softly it was almost inaudible. Even he did not know whether he was denying the ugliness of his past calculations, or the impurities mixed into love itself. This affection had begun with schemes and deception, and only with time had it been slowly refined. "I want Randou to stand behind me," he admitted, "but I'm too weak."
Randou found the advantage he held before his lover and lifted his chin proudly.
"I protect Akiya's life, and Akiya protects my soul—doesn't that make it perfectly fair?"
Was it really fair?
Asou Akiya's head felt dizzy as well; if his wife said it was fair, then fair it was.
"In late November, there's a theater performance," Akiya said after a moment. "I asked someone to get tickets. I heard from insiders that the script has something to do with Ability users. Let's go see it together."
"Alright," Randou agreed easily. "And what about Ranpo?"
"I've made other arrangements."
The day they would walk toward the light would come eventually. He couldn't bear to discipline Ranpo himself, so he would have to rely on others to help for now.
Until then, he would just give the child a few more rough sweets.
I just need to feed him well.
Let's hope that Mr. Fukuzawa, a devoted cat-lover, can endure the evolved version of Ranpo-cat.
Thinking of how badly he had warped the way Ranpo was being raised, Asou Akiya hugged Randou and rubbed against him affectionately. At least his own French cat hadn't grown crooked at all—gentle as water, noble and captivating, the ultimate dream of one man's perfect partner!
An adult's night was still very long…
Within the subspace, the once-again reanimated "Kimura Seimei" crawled out of the window in despair, heading off to carry out his mission.
Does this world really refuse to let the dead rest with their eyes closed?
You damned pair of devils!