The morning began not with coffee, but with the realization that I had become an internet meme.
I was lying on the sofa in the studio, lazily scrolling through the news feed on the phone Marin had lent me (my own had died a heroic death during a teleportation mishap). The headlines were diverse, but the essence was the same:
«Satoru Gojo — the Association's Disgrace? An E-rank with a God Complex!»
«Top 10 Moments the 'Strongest' Nearly Fell Over from the Wind.»
«Korean Netizens Raising Donations for the Treatment of the Japanese 'S-rank'.»
— Ideal, — I muttered, biting into a piece of yesterday's pizza. — Just ideal. The more they think I'm a nobody, the less likely they are to send me to clear out some volcano.
[ ⚙️ Sync System: Status Updated ]
[ Reputation: «National Clown» ]
Hidden Effect: Attention of the world's powerful reduced by 80%. Enemies consider you harmless trash. ]
[ Synchronization: 60.5% (Stable) ]
I stretched, feeling my joints pop. After yesterday's raid, my body had changed. It was a strange feeling—as if I had been made of cheap plastic before, and now it was replaced with tempered steel. My muscles surged with power that no longer threatened to tear me apart from within.
— Gojo-kun! — the studio door burst open with a crash.
Marin flew in, waving a tablet like a fan. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes held a mix of panic and excitement.
— You won't believe it! We're all going to die! Or become rich! But most likely die!
— Marin, breathe, — I sat up. — If it's debt collectors again, tell them I possess the technique of «Infinite Lack of Money».
— What collectors?! — she shoved the tablet into my face. — Look! A message! A private one! From a verified account!
I squinted. The screen showed a notification in the Lime messenger:
From: Ai_Hoshino (Official)To: Marin_Cosplay Subject: Your Assistant.
«Marin-chan! Good morning! I hope you slept well after... the walk in the forest. 😉 Your assistant, Gojo-kun, forgot something important at our office. His reputation as an 'ordinary person.'
I'm waiting for you both today at 11:00 at the 'La Amour' cafe in Roppongi. Private Room #1.
P.S. Tell him that blue suits him very well. But the blood on the sleeve is a bit much. ❤️»
I read the message twice. A chill ran down my spine.
— «The walk in the forest»... — I whispered. — She knows.
— Of course she knows! — Marin shrieked. — It's Ai! She has connections everywhere! Gojo-kun, she saw! She knows you're not an E-rank! What do we do? Will we be jailed for falsifying data, or recruited into a secret suicide squad?
I leaned back and closed my eyes. Six Eyes analyzed the situation. Ai Hoshino—the girl of lies, the ultimate idol. She hadn't reported me to the Association, or there would be a SWAT team here instead of a heart emoji. That meant she wanted something.
— Calm down, — I said, standing up. — We're not going to jail. We're being invited to negotiations.
— Negotiations? With Ai Hoshino?! At 'La Amour'? A cup of coffee there costs as much as my kidney!
— Perfect. That means she's paying. Get ready, Marin. Put on something decent. We're going to bargain with a devil in a skirt.
The «La Amour» cafe was the embodiment of everything I hated and envied about Tokyo: marble floors, waiters in tuxedos, and the smell of money. We were led to a private room where Ai Hoshino was sitting at a table full of exquisite desserts. This time, she was without stage makeup, in a simple beige coat and dark glasses perched on her head. She looked... vulnerable, almost. Except her aura resembled electrified barbed wire.
— You came! — she smiled, brightening the room. — Sit down. Order whatever you want. It's on me.
Marin froze at the door, her mouth agape—to her, Ai was a deity. I walked in and flopped into a chair, purposefully keeping my dark glasses on.
— Straight to the point, Hoshino-san, — I said, ignoring the menu. — How much do you want for your silence? I have three thousand yen and a discount coupon for Don Quijote.
Marin made a strangled sound and kicked me under the table. Ai laughed—the sound was light, but the stars in her eyes held no mirth.
— Money? Satoru-kun, you offend me. I make more from one Instagram post than you could steal in a lifetime.
She leaned forward.
— I saw the drone footage. How you destroyed a B-rank Boss with one blow. No spells. Just... compressing space.
— Special effects, — I countered lazily. — Marin is a video editing genius. We were filming a TikTok.
— And the severed arm that grew back in three seconds? Also editing? — Ai squinted. — You are an anomaly, Satoru Gojo. You have no rank, you aren't registered as an Awakened with healing. You don't even exist in this world's system of coordinates.
— So what? — I felt irritation rising. — Going to hand me over to the Association?
— No, — she shook her head, and her smile vanished. — I want to hire you.
Silence hung in the room.
— Hire? — Marin asked timidly. — Like... a bodyguard?
— More like 'eyes,' — Ai looked directly at me. — You told me in the office that I am 'woven from lies.'
She threw an envelope on the table.
— In this world, everyone lies. Fans, producers, hunters... but you see the truth. I need someone who can distinguish a fan with flowers from a stalker with a knife. Or a monster pretending to be human.
I took the envelope—it was heavy.
— I'm not a babysitter, — I snapped. — And I'm no hero. I'm a lazy, selfish guy who wants to sleep until noon and eat sweets.
— There's an advance in that envelope. One million yen, — Ai said calmly. — And that's just for 'consultations.' Plus full access to Strawberry Productions resources: databases, gear, and priority entry to high-rank dungeons.
I choked on the air. A million. My pride fought my stomach for exactly half a second; the stomach won by a knockout.
— Marin, — I turned to her. — How do you think I'd look as a 'Secret Advisor on Paranormal Activity'?
Marin was beaming. — Gojo-kun! It's the perfect plot twist! You'll be like that cool noir character who solves problems from the shadows!
I sighed and turned to Ai. Six Eyes activated at full power. Looking past her lies, I saw fear—the cold fear of a little girl who knows she's being watched. Around her was a thin, barely visible black thread. A curse? Or a stalker's mark?
— Fine, — I said, pocketing the envelope. — I agree, but on my terms: No uniform, no smiling for cameras, and if it gets too dangerous, I'm taking Marin and teleporting out.
Ai smiled, almost sincerely this time. — Deal, partner.
Her palm was cold.
[ ⚔️ Sync System: QUEST ACCEPTED ]
[ Type: Hidden Story Arc ]
[ Objective: Protect the «Absolute Idol» from inevitable death. ]
[ Reward: Unknown ]
[ Failure Penalty: Full desynchronization. Death of Host. ]
— What?! — I jerked, pulling my hand away. — What the hell do you mean 'inevitable death'?!
— Did you say something? — Ai blinked in surprise.
— Nothing, — I forced a smile. — Just remembered I left the iron on.
System, you're a piece of work, I thought.
[ I know. Good luck in the game. ]
We left the cafe through the back door to avoid paparazzi.
— A million yen! — Marin whispered, clutching her cheeks. — Gojo-kun, we can buy you a real phone! And... and materials! I saw fabric with mithril threads!
— We're buying food, Marin. Lots of food. And paying for your studio six months in advance, — I cut her off.
I walked slightly behind, scanning the street. Now that I'd accepted the «contract», the world felt different. I felt eyes—not on me, but on her.
Ai got into a tinted minivan, waving to us. As soon as the door closed, I saw it.
On the rooftop of the building opposite, about two hundred meters away, a glint flashed. Not optics. Magic. Someone was watching her leave. The observer's aura was a pulsing, dirty purple. It wasn't human. Or at least not anymore.
— Gojo-kun? Why'd you stop? — Marin tugged at my sleeve.
— Nothing, — I adjusted my glasses. — Let's go home, Marin. It seems my quiet life is officially over.
I shoved my hands into my pockets. The million yen warmed my side. But the cold dread that had settled in my chest couldn't be thawed even by that. Ai Hoshino was a walking target. And now I was standing right in the line of fire.
— Hey, Marin, — I called out.
— Yeah?
— That Ogre costume... can you make another one? But for her. For concealed carry.
— For... Ai-chan?! A plate-mail bra?!
— No, idiot! A bulletproof vest! And fast.
Marin looked at me seriously, then nodded.
— Got it. We'll do it.
We dissolved into the Shinjuku crowd. Two small people in a city where stars didn't ignite in the sky, but on stages—and as it turned out, they faded according to a schedule too. Unless I rewrite this damn script.