"Your son is in my hands. I'd encourage you not to try anything clever during our conversation."
King Crimson delivered the warning in a perfectly pleasant, amicable tone and settled more comfortably on the sofa.
"..."
Haruka's expression tightened. She bit her lower lip.
"Please allow me to change before we continue."
"No. Speaking with you like this doesn't particularly bother me."
King Crimson tilted its head slightly downward—enough to look like it was appreciating her beautiful body—then made its point with the most matter-of-fact delivery it could manage.
"Pervert."
Haruka said it flatly.
"...I'm only joking. Please go ahead, Doctor."
The Stand shook its head and turned away with an air of detached interest, as though suddenly very absorbed in studying the apartment's interior design. Haruka had a stomach full of anger and nowhere to put it, but her son's situation outweighed everything—she couldn't afford a single hostile move against this uninvited guest.
A short while later, Haruka Ouma returned from her room. She had changed into a fresh lavender dress with a white shawl over her shoulders—composed, elegant, and sharp-eyed. She stared the self-described Diavolo down without bothering to sit, instead walking slowly to the refrigerator and asking without turning around:
"What would you like to drink?"
"...Thank you, but I'm not thirsty."
The figure studied her for a brief moment, then quietly declined.
Setting aside whether a Stand could even eat or drink, exposing its mouth was entirely out of the question.
Haruka registered that he was simply unwilling to reveal his face—probably a scar, or some other sensitive identity matter—but she didn't care about any of that. She sat down directly across from him, urgency pressing at her from the inside, and asked the only thing she wanted to know:
"Shu—when can he come home?"
"The question isn't whether he can come home." A faint smile moved beneath the mask. "It's whether you want him home. Your son, Doctor—the effort he's been putting in at our organization… it's as though he's truly made up his mind to become a soldier."
"Shu..."
Haruka heard that and looked away, her expression sinking with quiet grief. She murmured his name softly, almost to herself, and without thinking, she began to see him—flashes of a life lived together, from his earliest years all the way to now.
She was a stepmother. But she was also, without question, a good one.
"You people manipulated him, didn't you. Why—why him? Why go after Shu? Why?"
"You already know the answer to that."
King Crimson turned the question back on her.
"He is Kurosu Ouma's son. And you, as his stepmother—as GHQ's finest researcher—controlling him gives me an extraordinary number of advantages."
"For example…" A pause. "The Void Genome."
That word hit Haruka like a wall of cold water. She went very still.
She had considered many scenarios on the walk back to her room—perhaps she would be pressed into becoming an informant for Funeral Parlor, feeding intelligence from the inside. She had not once imagined that this man would come for something like that.
"That thing is forbidden. It's a sin humanity should never have touched in the first place!"
"Power has no moral alignment. It all depends on the hand holding it."
King Crimson continued in its leisurely, unhurried cadence.
The color was draining from Haruka's face by degrees, turning toward white.
"...But you've already stolen the 002 Void Genome, haven't you?" she shot back, her mind moving fast.
"You're right." King Crimson gave a small nod. "But I'm also aware that you still have the 003 Genome—a more complete version. I have no interest in GHQ eventually fielding their own Void-capable combatants to complicate my plans. Eliminating future complications before they become problems—that's simply rational foresight, isn't it?"
"...I can't give you that."
Haruka pressed her lips together, her expression conflicted and pained. She desperately wanted Shu home, safe—but she also knew, clearly, that if Funeral Parlor obtained both Void Genomes, the country would descend into genuine chaos. She would not sacrifice this nation's fragile peace for her own happiness.
"If you refuse to cooperate, that will put me in a difficult position."
King Crimson exhaled softly. Then it pushed to its feet.
At nearly two meters tall, the figure's full height made Haruka's breath catch—a man that large, that solidly built, carried the feel of someone with a military background. And someone like that had joined Funeral Parlor?
Without hurry, the figure crossed the room to a shelf mounted on the wall and lifted a framed photograph, turning it over in his hands and smiling with obvious ill intent as he looked it over.
"This is you and the children."
He pointed to the girl in the frame.
"This one—her name is Mana. Mana Ouma. Is that right?"
"What are you doing?"
Haruka stood, frozen in place.
She couldn't understand why this man knew the name of a daughter who had been dead for ten years.
"I see. No wonder he became so fixated on that girl."
King Crimson gave a small nod to itself, as though some piece had clicked into place. Inori, directing the performance from a distance, only needed to manage its voice and inflection—nothing more.
"What are you talking about?"
"Dr. Ouma—your son Shu stayed in Funeral Parlor because of a girl." King Crimson said it clearly, then reached into a pocket and held out a phone, a close-up photograph already on the screen. "Someone who looks like this. Do you recognize her?"
"——!"
The reaction was visible to the naked eye. Haruka stumbled back half a step, hand flying to cover her mouth, visibly fighting the urge to cry out.
Inori and Mana weren't identical—there were small differences, which was why Haruka hadn't reacted when she'd simply seen Inori before. But now, with this Diavolo producing a photograph and deliberately foregrounding Mana's name, the effect was something else entirely. Especially with that close-up.
That girl—she looked exactly as Mana would have looked, grown up. If this man told her it was Mana, she wouldn't have doubted it for a second.
"Her name is Inori."
King Crimson said it slowly and clearly—his master's name—though it was careful to deliver it with just the right amount of deliberate, controlled weight.
"Given that, Doctor—do you truly believe it's a coincidence that your son suddenly found a girl with that face? Really?"
"...Is it possible—that rumor was—"
Haruka whispered, trailing off into her own thoughts. Inori had no idea what rumor she was following, and didn't particularly need to know. She simply had King Crimson continue on script.
"My meaning is simple."
"Give me the 003 Void Genome. In return, I will send Shu Ouma home to you. Refuse, and I can make no guarantees about his safety—you understand the situation we operate in. Funeral Parlor is what GHQ calls a 'terrorist organization.' If he dies on a battlefield someday, that wouldn't be unusual. Don't you agree?"
"You can't do this—please, please, don't hurt Shu!"
Shu was her greatest vulnerability. Every tension in Haruka's body went limp at once, leaving only a helpless, desperate plea—but Inori felt not even a flicker of guilt. That was simply how it was.
"Then accept my offer. And as for Inori—the girl who carries your daughter's face—if you agree to cooperate, I'll arrange for you to speak with her directly. Who knows—perhaps you might bring back some of her memories."
"...Is that girl really Mana?"
"Hm↑mm↓~ Hard to say. Perhaps. Perhaps not."
"I'll do it—I agree!"
— Those were her two most precious children.
Ten years ago, she had lost Mana. To this day, Mana's smile found her in dreams, and she always woke from them with tears on her face. Protecting the two children Kurosu had left behind was the entire meaning of her life. And now this man was telling her she had a chance to save Shu—and to reach Mana, the daughter she had never stopped grieving for.
There was no price she would refuse for that.
"Good."
King Crimson set the photograph frame back on the shelf and cleared its throat.
"I have a few more questions."
Something had just surfaced in Inori's mind—a blind spot she hadn't accounted for.
"Did you know, fairly early on, that your brother was creating a replica of Mana?"
"...Only as a rumor. But seeing that girl named Inori just now—I'm certain. She's the one."
"Is Mana really… awake?"
Haruka asked it carefully, the words barely above a murmur.
"Yes. I pulled her out of your lab—though in hindsight, it seems that may have been exactly what Shuichiro Keido intended. Your brother appears to be moving pieces toward something dangerous. You haven't failed to notice?"
"My brother…"
Haruka opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
"At any rate—that's no longer my concern. Our terms are set. A direct exchange—you hand over the item, I hand over the boy. Does that work for you?"
"...Give me one week."