The autumn night was bleak and desolate. Outside, a brilliant moon hung in the sky, its white light falling like snow across an elegantly appointed residential district. From a large yellow-painted house near the edge of the neighborhood, the laughter of two girls rang out without end.
"Ahh~ I'm stuffed. This is happiness. Life is complete~"
Having finally cleared the last of the enemies from the dining table, Inori Yuzuriha let herself go boneless in her chair with a sound of pure contentment.
"I'm so jealous of you, Inori. You eat this much every day and don't gain a single gram."
Matsuri Koshirou looked across the table at Inori, admiration written plainly across her face.
Long pink hair tied into two braids draped over her shoulders; she wore a pale green short-sleeved sundress, and the bare white arms peeking out of it held not a trace of excess flesh. Even after eating that much, her stomach remained perfectly flat — unlike Matsuri's own…
Deeply aggrieved, Matsuri grabbed at the soft bit of flesh at her waist and squeezed. The more she thought about it, the more unfair it seemed. Even a little extra food turned her into this dumpling monster.
"Metabolism, probably. It must be a metabolism thing."
Inori pondered the question with genuine seriousness before delivering her verdict.
"You don't need to obsess over it, Matsuri. The way I see it, you're full-figured, not fat. And the only time your stomach even looks like that is when you're sitting down and really squishing it together — it's not like it affects you in a swimsuit or anything."
The mental image of Matsuri in a swimsuit surfaced in Inori's mind unbidden — full-figured and fair-skinned. Truly something.
"Absolutely not! Not even a little!" Matsuri answered with equal gravity. "Fat is a girl's mortal enemy!"
"Why do you care this much though? Don't tell me you already have someone you like."
Perhaps it was the satisfied glow of a good meal working its mischief, but Inori suddenly felt the urge to tease her.
"No — I definitely don't!"
The words said one thing, but her face said quite another, flushing an obvious crimson.
"Is that so? I wonder who it is that brings up Shu Ouma every single day when she gets home — oh, I think he came up just a little while ago too."
"That's not — Shu is just a very close friend!"
The young girl seemed to have no concept of protesting too much. The harder she argued, the more she confirmed every word her companion had said.
"Your face is very red, you know."
Inori propped her cheeks in both hands and fixed the girl across from her with an unwavering gaze, her smile slowly deepening.
"I — I — hmph! If we're talking about people with someone they like, you're a far more suspicious candidate, Inori!"
Matsuri had evidently learned a thing or two from years of being teased by Inori, and she immediately turned the tables, jabbing a finger between Inori's brows.
"Me?" Inori blinked, genuinely curious. She wanted to hear whatever Matsuri had come up with.
"Because you've been coming home really late recently, haven't you? Tonight too."
"So what?"
"You must be going on dates with someone! I just know it." Matsuri looked triumphant, as though she'd finally caught Inori red-handed. "Let me guess — someone you met online? Or a fan?"
"Pfft."
Inori couldn't quite hold back the laugh.
"What? Why are you laughing?"
Matsuri felt as though she'd told some terribly stupid joke… but wasn't it true? If it wasn't to meet a friend, she truly couldn't think of any other reason Inori would be staying out so late.
After all, she was an internet singer, not a real-world idol — no agency scheduling appearances for her. The most she'd do was take the occasional snack promotion on her personal blog. What people called "eating well off endorsements."
"Because it's so entertaining. You had this completely straight face, like Detective Conan pointing at someone and declaring, You are the culprit — pfft… haha—"
"Don't — don't change the subject!"
Matsuri puffed up like a cat with ruffled fur. Against Inori's relentless teasing, she had no recourse but helpless indignation.
Still, she didn't actually believe Inori had been going out for a simple stroll.
"Look, I can't go to school, and there's nothing to do at home besides read," Inori said, putting on an expression of perfect innocence. "When I start feeling cooped up, I want to go outside and see other corners of this world. Is that a problem?"
——That much, at least, wasn't a lie.
"You're really not… going to meet someone?"
"I'm not."
She blinked and answered without a moment's hesitation.
If Matsuri ever found out that she spent every one of these outings in the middle of one violent confrontation or another, Inori could only imagine the horrified expression on her face…
"Then I'm relieved."
This question had been coiled at the back of Matsuri's mind for a long time, a worry she'd never managed to shake — and tonight she'd finally seized the chance to ask it.
She was worried about Inori. A girl who had endured so much misfortune since childhood, who had only recently been set free, who couldn't even attend school and enjoy her youth like a normal girl — Matsuri was afraid she might fall in with some strange adults she'd met online. Inori was so pure, yet so strikingly beautiful; if someone ever deceived her, it would leave scars that lasted a lifetime.
"Don't underestimate me, Matsuri. I'm actually pretty amazing."
Inori had noticed the worry, and she reached out to gently flick Matsuri's forehead with one fingertip.
"Mm… Actually, I still can't figure it out. Inori, how exactly did you steal that hot dog that time?"
"Superpowers, of course."
Inori gave a sly smile.
"I'm secretly superpowered."
"You're making fun of me again!" Matsuri looked a little put out.
"I thought you of all people would be taken in — I imagined you'd be so shocked you'd sit bolt upright and beg me for a live demonstration."
"Does Inori think I'm three years old?!"
For just a moment, Inori had genuinely entertained the idea — telling Matsuri the truth about King Crimson.
She always felt a cold and solitary ache beneath everything, at all times. It was unavoidable; to this world, she was probably no more than a passing traveler, and she didn't even know herself what she was searching for. She had obtained power, obtained Epitaph — but so what? What was she supposed to do with them once she had them? She had no idea.
The resolute are always happy — but Inori did not know what her happiness was.
Only in these moments of sharing a meal with Matsuri did she feel any true peace and warmth. So she hoped that someday, the two of them would be able to speak with complete honesty — that she would no longer need to hide anything from her.
Matsuri noticed that Inori's expression had gone distant all of a sudden, and thought she must have said something wrong.
"Inori?"
"I'm fine." Inori came back to herself, the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes dissolving quickly. "I like wandering through different parts of the city and trying all kinds of street food. So for the next few days, if I'm getting home late, don't wait for me at dinner~"
...
...
At the same time, in the ruined streets of Roppongi, somewhere inside an underground facility.
A thick, pungent smell of industrial oil hung in the dark space, stubborn and unyielding. The crumbling walls were covered in repulsive patches of ancient mold, and unseen insects darted through the corners in quick, furtive streaks.
This was the base of operations for the resistance organization composed of a group of patriotic high schoolers — Funeral Parlor.
Under the dim, yellowed light, two men stood on a second-floor platform, leaning against a rusted railing. Both wore black coats, identical in cut and color — Funeral Parlor's uniform.
"Gai. Are you sure we should move?"
The one who spoke had long silver hair and silver-framed glasses. The left half of his face, down to his ear, bore the scarring of old burns. His voice was measured and precise.
"That thing is necessary."
"To become her King — I have to obtain it."
The one who answered was the leader of Funeral Parlor, the second male lead of Guilty Crown — Gai Tsutsugami. A man with a woman's melancholy beauty and long golden hair.
He had a decision to make.
"I received word that the organization has been wiped out."
The silver-haired man stated this calmly.
"I know. I know there may be a trap."
"But precisely because of that, we have to move before they're ready."
"..." The silver-haired man drew a long breath and continued quietly. "Strike while the iron is hot — that's very like you, Gai."