"Ahaha, don't sweat the small stuff. The unstable element is dealt with, they'll never sell the brew again, and we walked away with a fat stack of cash — so isn't that just wonderful?"
Kawakami Tomie rested her chin in her hands and smiled serenely.
"It is not wonderful."
A look of quiet disapproval passed through Amamiya Rin's eyes.
"The problem's solved and the money's secured — what more could you possibly want? Don't be greedy. Reach for everything and you'll end up with nothing."
Tomie let the smile drop. She propped both hands under her chin and delivered this verdict with the utmost gravity.
"Getting lectured by you of all people... how could I be having a dream like this?"
Amamiya Rin shook his head in resignation, picked up his spoon, and scooped a wonton into his mouth.
His actions said everything his words did not — tacit acceptance.
Today he would observe, watching how the Tomies handled things from the sidelines before passing any judgment.
Amamiya Rin made no effort to block his thoughts. The Tomies knew his intentions perfectly well. Kawakami Tomie gave a small shrug, rose to her feet, her skirt tracing a smooth arc through the air.
"I'm off. Take your time finishing up."
Like a haughty Persian cat, Kawakami Tomie glided out of the restaurant with unhurried elegance.
Amamiya Rin watched her go, then quietly finished the rest of his noodles, settled the bill, and walked out leaning on his cane.
The morning sun was sharp against his eyes. He stood at the roadside, turning over the day's plans in his mind.
He had given Tomie one and a half million. That left him with two million — not quite a lot, not quite a little, and for his circumstances, nowhere near enough.
"Forget it. I'll just buy a used jeep to get around."
He muttered under his breath. He had originally planned to buy new, but now it was clear that was off the table.
He caught a bus, transferring several times, until he finally arrived at the used car lot on the outskirts of the city.
After much browsing, haggling, and back-and-forth, he eventually parted with just over a million yen and drove away in a battered old jeep that had clearly seen some years.
The frame was solid, the clearance was high, the interior was spacious. The bodywork had a few scratches, but the engine note was steady and deep, and the overall condition looked dependably roadworthy.
Paperwork signed and paid, Amamiya Rin climbed into the driver's seat. He looked at the thin sheaf of Fukuzawa Yukichi banknotes remaining in his wallet and allowed himself a small, tired smile.
Money really did evaporate without warning. Three million in savings, nearly gone in a single day.
"——!"
At that moment, his phone rang.
He pulled it out. Unknown caller — number withheld.
Amamiya Rin's gaze sharpened. He pressed accept immediately.
A woman's voice came through — familiar and yet not.
Unsurprisingly, it was the woman who held the clues to the serial murder case.
"You didn't show up yesterday afternoon."
The words sounded like an accusation, but her tone was unexpectedly level.
"My apologies. Something came up unexpectedly. Let's arrange a new time."
Amamiya Rin didn't elaborate. He kept his apology clean and simple.
"You pick the time and place this time."
The woman didn't press him on it, and said so generously.
"Same location. Time — three o'clock this afternoon."
Amamiya Rin glanced at the time on his phone screen and relayed it to her.
"I'll be there on the dot. I hope this time there won't be any more incidents. If we don't catch the killer soon, there will be another victim before long."
She accepted the proposal without hesitation, though her reply carried an unmistakable undercurrent of warning.
The call ended. The dial tone droned in his ear. Amamiya Rin pocketed his phone and moved immediately.
Only — he was not heading straight to the meeting point. Instead, he drove to [Sup Sports Club].
Stepping back into the gym for the second time, Amamiya Rin went through registration and payment with easy familiarity.
Then the training began.
The specially made restriction bands were wound tightly around his upper arms and thighs. The staff cinched them hard, the bands sinking deep into flesh, throttling circulation.
Then the bottle was brought out — its contents surging with violent carbonation — and placed in front of him.
Amamiya Rin pulled the tab and tilted his head back, draining it in one continuous pour. The liquid detonated down his esophagus in a torrent of explosive bubbles; his stomach ballooned outward as if it might burst, the violent bloating and tearing pain blacking out his vision, bringing him to the edge of vomiting.
The staff immediately looped a band across his mouth and cinched it fast behind his head, sealing off any possibility of release.
In that instant, Amamiya Rin felt as though he had become an enormous balloon — body both feather-light and crushingly heavy at once, swaying, barely keeping his feet.
The staff came up behind him and shepherded him and the other trainees into the enormous pressure chamber.
A heavy metallic clang as the hatch sealed shut — and then, inconceivable pressure closed in from every direction at once.
The air turned solid in an instant. His eardrums caved inward. An invisible force clamped around his chest. The grotesque, pregnancy-sized swell of his stomach was crushed flat; his limbs shriveled to dry sticks; his blood seemed to stop moving entirely; every organ in his body was squeezed back against his spine, compressed into a single column of bone and flesh.
Agony worse than death crashed through Amamiya Rin's mind, wave after wave.
It was not his first time in the pressure training chamber, but that kind of suffering offered no immunity, no adaptation.
And no matter how many times he endured it, Amamiya Rin still could not fathom why he was still alive.
Every organ squeezed back against his spine — that was not a figure of speech. That was fact.
He could feel it. His viscera had been compacted into a single mass. Anywhere else in the world, he would already be dead.
An eternity seemed to pass — a full century compressed into the span of it — and then the pressure vanished all at once.
The hatch opened. Amamiya Rin and the other trainees collapsed to the floor like men whose bones had been extracted, unable to move. The staff dragged them out and left them propped against the wall to recover.
It took Amamiya Rin no small amount of time before he could gather himself again — and even then, every limb ached to the marrow, still too heavy to move properly.
He looked up at the wall clock. Two in the afternoon. Amamiya Rin drew a slow, deep breath, summoned what strength he could, steadied himself to a sitting position, let his eyes fall half-closed, and eased into a state of Dhyana.
Inside the [Tomie Network], the thirty-odd Kawakami Tomies remaining in Tokyo had long since selected today's human vessel. Amamiya Rin used Contemplative Sight to lock on with precision, and synchronized his consciousness across.
A brief, disorienting sense of separation — then Amamiya Rin opened his eyes.
His field of vision had shifted. His height was a little lower. But the exhaustion and pain in his body had eased considerably.
He looked around. He was standing beside a quiet street, the afternoon sun falling warm and soft on fair-skinned arms.
Without wasting another moment, Amamiya Rin set off at once, arriving at the agreed café with time to spare before three o'clock.
He pushed open the café door. A small bell chimed overhead. Gentle music drifted through the air. Amamiya Rin chose a window seat with a clear line of sight to the entrance, settled in, and waited for the woman who held the clues to the serial murder case to arrive.
____
👻🔥+40 ch: Walnut-chan🔥👻
🔥 New history: Samsara Game: Starting with Shirogane Kei
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