Agung paced the kitchen, his boots clicking sharply on the floor, the map of Japan becoming the center of his universe. He tapped his temple, trying to force the scattered, glitchy memories of the "Deadbeat's" records to align with the cold, hard reality of the world he was now walking in.
"Listen to me," Agung said, his voice urgent. "The logs I saw—the ones I tore out of the system—they were incomplete. They didn't even *mention* children for the Nijigasaki or Aquors branches. The 'Deadbeat' treated them like ghosts. But if Kanata is 23 now... and if Mia is only 19... we are dealing with a timeline that has been twisted into knots."
He stopped, his expression darkening as the math settled in his stomach.
"Mia Taylor... she was a 15-year-old prodigy in 2021. If she's 19 now, that means she's barely been an adult in this nightmare. That brute... he didn't just neglect them; he preyed on their vulnerability at the exact moment they were transitioning from children to adults."
He looked at the women—his wives, his partners. The air in the room was no longer filled with the warmth of a family dinner, but with the chilling realization of the responsibility they now held.
"I have the infinite stamina," Agung said, clutching the edge of the kitchen island until his knuckles turned white. "I have the money. I have the power to manifest anything they need. But money can't fix the fact that I left them alone for years. When we get to Odaiba, I don't want any 'God-tier' manifestations. No golden roads, no sudden gifts. If I show up in Odaiba with a bag of gold, I'm just the same 'Deadbeat' trying to buy a clean slate."
He looked at Kotori, then at Maki. "I need to learn how to be a person again. If we find Kanata, I need to know how to listen before I speak. I need to know how to be an equal, not a provider. How do I approach someone who has had to be the parent for her own family for six years while I was playing the mogul in this house?"
Maki sighed, the anger from earlier replaced by a weary, steely focus. She stepped over to a cabinet and pulled out a simple, modest duffel bag. She began packing essentials—not high-tech gear, but clothes, basic toiletries, and a small first-aid kit.
"You stop thinking like a 'Protagonist' and you start thinking like a human," Maki said, her tone sharp but instructional. "You don't approach Kanata with a 'solution.' You approach her with an apology and an empty chair. You let her be tired. You let her be angry. You let her not want you there."
Agung nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Odaiba is the first step. Then Numazu. Then... the world."
He turned to the group, his gaze lingering on the three children playing with their toys in the corner. He realized that the "Deadbeat" had left a trail of wreckage that spanned continents and years, and he was the only one who could clean it up.
"Let's move," Agung said, picking up his own bag—a plain, nondescript pack. "The train to Odaiba doesn't care about my mana or my bank account. We travel like everyone else. We arrive as we are. That is the only way this works."
As they filed out of the house, the grand, high-tech sanctuary felt suddenly smaller, a mere staging ground for the real work. The "Marshmallow-Papa" had a long, agonizing road ahead of him, and for the first time, he was terrified of the destination—not because of what he might find, but because of how much he would have to change to earn his place there.