The office of «Strawberry Productions» smelled of freshly brewed coffee, expensive perfume, and hidden despair. It was a place where dreams either turned into gold or were sent to the shredder along with failed contracts.
I walked half a step behind Marin, diligently ignoring how the employees were staring at us. I was wearing a black turtleneck with a high collar, which Marin had fished out of her supplies, and that very blindfold.
— Gojo-kun, just don't stay silent for too long, otherwise they'll think you're a mannequin, — Marin whispered, nervously adjusting her skirt. — And don't scare them with your smirk, okay? Just... be mysterious.
— Marin, I am literally walking blindfolded into an agency to people whose job is to detect fakes. «Mysteriousness» — is the best I can offer to not summon a police squad, — I grumbled under my breath.
In reality, Six Eyes turned this walk into torture. Through the blindfold, the world looked like an overloaded neon schematic. I saw the mana of the guard at the entrance (a pathetic Rank F, rather just a «battery»), I saw the structure of the reinforcement in the walls and — what annoyed me the most — I saw «sparks» of talent in the trainees running along the corridors. In this world, show business and mana were intertwined more tightly than I thought.
We entered the director's office. Miyako Saitou looked like a woman who lives on pure caffeine and willpower. She tore her gaze away from the documents, and her eyebrows slowly crept up when she saw us. More precisely, me.
— Kitagawa-san, — she pronounced slowly, tapping a pen on the table. — Glad you came. But... it seems you forgot to mention that your stylist is a cosplayer in an active phase. Or is he an Awakened with damage to the optic nerves?
I felt a click in the back of my head. The Gojo Template did not tolerate awkward pauses. It demanded dominance in the dialogue.
— Vision is fine, Saitou-san, — I slightly tilted my head, and the blindfold gleamed for a moment under the lamps. The voice itself became lazy, drawling, with that very note of superiority that I hated and adored at the same time. — Just the world is sometimes too bright. And camouflage — is part of professional ethics. To see details better, sometimes you need to cut off the excess.
Miyako narrowed her eyes. She was clearly trying to understand: am I joking, am I an idiot, or am I a dangerous psychopath. — Eccentric. Alright. We have a problem with costumes for the new iteration of «B-Komachi». The concept of «angelic innocence» no longer sells. We need something... piercing. Something that will make fans feel as if they are about to be electrocuted.
While Marin enthusiastically dumped sketches in the style of «techno-punk» onto the table, I stepped away to the window. Six Eyes suddenly twitched, sending an alarm signal to my brain. Outside, in the corridor, a source of energy appeared. It wasn't a Hunter. It wasn't a monster. It was something... blinding.
The energy was chaotic, shimmering, like broken glass in the rays of the sun. It was approaching the door. The door swung open without a knock.
— Miyako-san! I forgot my keys to the rehearsal room... oh!
I turned around. Ai Hoshino stood in the doorway. In life, she was smaller than on the huge billboards of Shibuya, but her presence filled the room so that the air instantly became electrified. Those very eyes, in which six-pointed stars burned. That very smile, capable of selling snow in winter.
But Six Eyes saw something else. I saw her mana. It didn't flow smoothly, like in ordinary people. It was twisted into thousands of small, tight knots. Lies. Ai Hoshino was woven from lies so tightly that even her life energy imitated emotions that didn't exist. It was mesmerizing. And infinitely, unbearably sad.
— Oh, — Ai froze, looking at us. Her gaze instantly latched onto my blindfold. — Are these new Hunters? Or are we filming a drama about ninjas?
— These are stylists, Ai, — Miyako sighed wearily. — Go, take the keys and don't interfere. We have a... complex process here.
Ai didn't leave. She walked closer, unceremoniously examining me like a little animal in a zoo. In her world, stars were always safe as long as they shone.
— Hey, Mr. Ninja, — she looked right into my face, even though I was a head taller. — Do you really see something through this? Or are you just afraid of going blind from my beauty?
Marin beside me made a sound resembling the strangled squeak of a dying hamster. I felt Satoru Gojo chuckle inside me. This girl was playing with fire, not even knowing that before her was not an actor.
— I see more than you would like to show, — I answered calmly. — For example, the fact that your smile right now is three tones brighter than your real mood. And that your left knee aches after yesterday's practice. You should change the choreographer, he overloads the joints.
Ai froze. Her smile didn't waver — professionalism level god, — but the stars in her eyes went out for a moment, replaced by something cold, calculating, and very sharp. It was the gaze of a predator who realized that someone had entered its territory and turned on a searchlight.
— Wow, — she squeezed out, slightly tilting her head to the side. — And you are... creepy. Miyako-san, where did you find him? Does he tell fortunes by knees?
At that moment, my phone in my pocket didn't just vibrate. It literally went berserk, jumping in the pocket of my jeans like an epileptic.
[ ⚠ Sync System: ATTENTION! ]
[Extreme popularity spike detected.] [Source: South Korea. Forum Hunter's Guild (Top-1 in Asia).]
I automatically took out the phone. Notifications poured like a waterfall.
[ 📉 Event ]
[Video of your fall went viral in Korea. Topic: «Comparison of Japanese and Korean Hunters».]
[Headline in top: «While our Sung Jin-Woo clears dungeons alone, the Japanese "S-Rank" fights with his lunch. And loses».]
The System, as if mocking, displayed the translation of top comments right before my eyes, overlaying the Six Eyes interface:
User_KR_1: «Sung Jin-Woo: "Arise". This guy: "Lie down, I feel sick"».
User_KR_2: «Japan has completely gone downhill. This clown calls himself the Strongest? Even my cat is scarier when it pukes hairballs».
User_KR_3: «Rank S? More like Rank G — Gastritis».
— What the hell... — I whispered.
[ ⚙️ Sync System: Analysis Complete ]
[Mass ridicule is also a form of recognition. Millions of people are visualizing your image right now. Albeit a pathetic one.]
[Synchronization: +20.0%] [Current Level: 57.2%]
[ ⚠ WARNING! Critical threshold exceeded. ] [Host's body does not match the mana level of the Character.]
The world around me twitched. It didn't look like a surge of strength. It looked like if voltage from a city power plant was fed into an ordinary incandescent light bulb.
The air in the office became heavy and thick, like mercury. The glass in the frames rang pitifully. I felt my feet lifting off the floor by a couple of centimeters, but I did not control this.
Miyako Saitou took a step back, instinctively shielding Ai with her hand. The director's face turned white. — What is happening?.. Mana pressure... Why is it rising?!
Marin grabbed my elbow, her fingers were trembling. — Gojo-kun... you are all glowing... Are you feeling bad again?! You have a nosebleed!
I brought my hand to my face. Indeed, a thin stream of blood was flowing from under the blindfold. My body was bursting at the seams.
— On the contrary, Marin... — my voice sounded strange, with some kind of metallic echo. It wasn't me speaking. It was «Infinity» speaking, which was trying to break out. — I have never felt so... cramped.
I looked at Ai Hoshino. Now I saw her not just as a clot of lies. I saw her as a set of coordinates in space. And I wanted terribly, unbearably to fold this space.
— Gojo-kun, stop it! — Marin's voice came as if from under water. — You are scaring them!
— I can't... — I croaked, feeling the space around my fingers starting to twist into a spiral. — System... brake! I don't want to destroy everything here!
[ ❌ Sync System: Cancellation Impossible ]
[Excess mana requires an outlet. Activation of spatial displacement to prevent lethal outcome for the Host.]
The floor under my feet went into cracks. Papers from the table soared into the air, twisting into a hurricane. Ai Hoshino looked at me with wide-open eyes, in which for the first time there was not a drop of acting — only pure, primal horror before the element.
— Away! — I barked, trying to maintain control. — Everyone get away from here!
But it was too late. Gravity in the room simply switched off.
— Marin, hold on to me! — I yanked her towards me, wrapping my arms around her, not to look cool, but so she wouldn't be disintegrated by an accidental discharge. I tried to focus on the door, on the exit, on anything, but Six Eyes, overloaded by the synchronization spike, simply chose a random point on the map where there were no people.
SNAP.
The sound was terrifying. As if the very air in the room burst. Space turned inside out, sucking us into a blue funnel. The last thing I saw before disappearing — was Ai Hoshino, who was thrown against the wall by the blast wave, and her gaze. The gaze of a person who just saw a god. And this god was insane.
[Location: Warehouse Roof, Ota Ward]
The world returned with a jerk, as if someone hit me on the back of the head with a sledgehammer. We didn't appear on the roof. We fell out of the rift in space about three meters above it. Gravity, which I forgot about for a second, happily reminded of itself.
— A-A-AH!!! — Marin's scream cut off when I, instinctively grouping up, intercepted her in the air and took the hit on myself.
BAM.
The concrete of the roof met my back with the hospitality of an asphalt paver. Air was knocked out of my lungs. Infinity, which a second ago was tearing the office apart, now blinked and went out, leaving me absolutely defenseless before the laws of physics. We rolled over the rough surface, knocking down some old antennas and empty paint cans. I slowed down, crashing my shoulder into a ventilation pipe.
— ...holy... shit... — I croaked, looking into the gray sky of Tokyo, which was spinning before my eyes like in a centrifuge.
Marin, who landed on me (soft landing at the expense of my spine), immediately jumped up. Her face was whiter than chalk, hair disheveled, and primal horror stood in her eyes.
— Gojo-kun! Are you alive?! You have blood! Lots of blood! — she grabbed my shoulders, shaking so that my head almost fell off.
I brought my hand to my face. The blindfold was soaked. The nosebleed wasn't stopping, and my eyes burned as if I was looking at a welding arc without a mask.
— Alive... — I wheezed, trying to sit up. My body was shaking with large tremors. It wasn't cold. It was recoil. My muscles were cramping because energy sufficient to power a small city had just been passed through them.
— Just... give me a minute. System... report.
[ ⚠ Sync System: Critical Status ]
[Synchronization: 57.2% (Stable)] [Body Condition: Mana Overload 300%. Structural damage to muscle tissues.]
[Reason: Your physical shell is too weak for S-Rank techniques. You are trying to start a Ferrari engine on a bicycle frame.]
— Shut up with metaphors, — I growled, spitting out viscous saliva with a metallic taste. — Why did this happen? I didn't want to teleport!
[ Answer ]
It was a defensive reflex. The popularity spike from Korea was too sharp. Your rating on the «Hunter's Guild» forum broke the ceiling in the category «Clown of the Year». The emotional response of millions of people converted into mana instantly.
I laughed hysterically, leaning the back of my head against the cold metal of the pipe. — So... while Koreans are laughing at how weak I am, I become so strong that I can accidentally vaporize a block?
[ ⚙️ Sync System: Answer ]
[Exactly. Irony is the fuel of our Universe.]
[ ⚠ CRITICAL WARNING ] To avoid repeated self-destruction, you need to strengthen the «vessel». Passive adaptation is no longer sufficient.
[ ⚔️ New Directive: HUNT ] Objective: Physical development through absorption of monster cores and combat experience in Dungeons.]
[Forecast: If you don't start pumping up physically, the next popularity spike will simply tear you into atoms.]
— Wonderful, — I covered my face with my hands, feeling a hysterical chuckle tearing from my chest.
— Now I am obliged to go into dungeons not for money, but to not explode like a cheap firecracker.
Sung Jin-Woo leveled up to become cool. And I will level up to not die from how cool I am.
Marin watched me all this time without blinking. She saw me talking to myself, saw me shaking, but this phrase made the corner of her lip twitch in a smile. After which, instead of running away, she did something I didn't expect. She sat down next to me, took wet wipes out of her bag, and began silently, with frightening care, wiping my face. Her hands were trembling, but her movements were firm.
— You... you destroyed Miyako-san's office, — she said quietly. — You teleported us eleven kilometers. You look like you were run over by a steamroller.
— I know, Marin. I am a monster. I told you.
— No, — she shook her head, wiping blood from my cheek. — Monsters eat people. And you... you are just an idiot who doesn't know how to calculate strength. And also you saved me from being smeared on the wall.
She reached into the bag, which miraculously survived the teleportation, and took out a crumpled onigiri. — Eat. Your sugar dropped, or whatever drops for you mages. Mana?
I looked at the rice ball as if it were the philosopher's stone. Hunger was beastly. I snatched the food and swallowed it in two bites, not even feeling the taste.
— Thanks, — I exhaled, feeling my stomach start to produce at least some energy. The trembling in my hands began to subside.
— So, the plan changes? — Marin asked, looking at the city below. — We are no longer playing «Cosplayer»?
— We are playing, — I got to my feet, leaning against the wall. Six Eyes were still pulsing with pain, but vision was returning. — Only now it's a survival game. I need to go to a Dungeon, Marin. A real one. And I need a costume that will withstand not only camera flashes but also monster teeth.
Marin raised her gaze to me. In her eyes, that very light of a mad creator lit up, which I saw in the studio.
— A costume with monster protection, but in the style of Satoru Gojo? — she smirked, although her lips were still pale. — Challenge accepted. But explanations are on you. Full ones. And dinner.
————————————————————————————————————————————
[Location: Strawberry Productions Office, Minato Ward]
Chaos reigned in Miyako Saitou's office. Expensive vases were broken, costume sketches swirled on the floor like autumn leaves, and in the center of the room, where I stood a second ago, the parquet was scorched in a perfect circle.
Miyako sat in her chair, staring at the wall with an unseeing gaze. Her hand clutched the phone, but she wasn't calling the police.
— That wasn't a trick, — she whispered. — That was an S-Rank technique. Spatial magic. Units in the whole world can do this. And he... he works for Kitagawa? Who the hell is he?!
Ai Hoshino stood by the window. She wasn't hurt, except for a messed-up hairstyle. She looked at her reflection in the glass, on which a thin crack appeared from the mana discharge. My words spun in her head: «Your smile is three tones brighter... We all wear masks...»
Ai slowly ran her finger along the crack on the glass. — Miyako-san, — her voice was calm, frighteningly calm. — Don't call the police. And don't call the Association either.
— Ai! Do you understand what happened?! That guy is a threat to national security! He almost killed us!
— No, — Ai turned around. There was no usual «idol» smile on her face. Her eyes — two dark stars — burned with cold calculation. — If he wanted to kill, we wouldn't be here anymore. He ran away. He didn't control it. I saw his face. He was in pain.
She walked to the table and picked up one of the sketches that Marin drew. On it was a draft of a black blindfold.
— He saw my lie, Miyako-san. For the first time in my life, someone looked at me and saw not «Ai Hoshino», but just... me. And he didn't care about my status.
Ai squeezed the paper in her fist. — Find me everything on that girl, Marin Kitagawa. Where she lives, where she studies. I want to know who her «stylist» is.
— Why do you need this, Ai? — Miyako frowned. — It's dangerous.
Ai smiled. But it wasn't the smile that fans loved. It was the smile of a person who found the most interesting toy in the world.
— Because, Miyako-san... It seems I found the only person in Tokyo to whom I won't be able to lie. And that means he is the only one who can be truly useful to me.
She looked at the scorched circle on the floor. — Satoru Gojo... — she tasted the name. — I will dig you out from underground. And you will tell me what else you see with your scary eyes.
[ ⚠ Sync System: Attention ]
[Ai Hoshino's Fate changed. Status «Stalker Victim» replaced with status «Active Observer».] [You created a bond that cannot be broken by distance.]
On the roof of the warehouse, finishing the second onigiri, I sneezed so hard I nearly fell down.
— Someone remembering you? — giggled Marin, who had already recovered and was now examining my glowing eyes with interest.
— More like someone cursing me, — I answered gloomily, looking at the setting sun. — And I have a very bad feeling that this «someone» wears a sequined skirt and has an army of fans.
I stood up and brushed the dust off my trousers. — Alright. Enough whining. Tomorrow we are going to register at the Association as freelancers. Let's just come up with a stupider legend for me.
— Like «Loser Mage who gets sick from mana»? — suggested Marin.
— Perfect. No one will believe that such a loser can be an S-Rank.
We laughed, but the laughter was nervous. Ahead of us waited dungeons, monsters, and, what is most scary, — the close attention of the main liar of Japan.