There was an uninvited guest living in her mind, and she still didn’t know what her purpose was.
To be safe, she decided not to touch the computer, in case any secrets were exposed.
But as soon as she had that thought, the woman inside her mind laughed softly.
“I know all your secrets. Did you really think that just by avoiding the thought, you could hide from me?”
Damn it.
“Don’t worry. I won’t harm you. I can help you, my daughter.”
Daughter?
Jiang Jian Yue followed Yuki Asahi through the door of 2103, her expression looking a little sour.
Yuki Asahi went straight to the kitchen upon arriving home, opened the newly purchased refrigerator, and without turning around, asked, “Yue, what do you want to eat?”
“Anything is fine.”
Jiang Jian Yue’s expression eased slightly as she looked at Yuki Asahi’s back, but the noisy voice of the woman in her mind rang out again at the worst possible moment.
“Oh~ I see. What you lack isn’t a man, it’s a servant who can take care of you!”
“Can’t you just shut up?”
“It’s OK.”
Jiang Jian Yue’s words had some effect—at least the woman’s noise didn’t return during dinner.
But when she returned to the master bedroom, the voice flared up again.
“Hurry up and watch anime, I want to watch anime!”
Are you a child!?
Jiang Jian Yue sighed and sat down on the computer chair.
Since today was a day off and there was nothing else to do, she had no other entertainment activities.
She glanced at the time on the computer—still ticking, not frozen.
She first opened the Tsuiyue official account.
The number of followers had been growing rapidly lately, already reaching 200,000, making her quite a notable UP owner.
Part of the traffic came from group members clipping and sharing her content.
A larger portion of the followers came from the discussions within the Chantui community.
Tsuiyue’s videos naturally attracted attention from the Chantui community as well.
The earlier videos were fine—people just treated the account as a special effects-heavy cosplay group.
But after the latest “Fire and Ice” video, new theories emerged in the community: the ARG Theory.
The core of the “ARG Theory” was that this account was actually the official account of the mysterious Insect Grave Company.
The most important evidence was the upload time of the latest video.
Within days after the “Hokkaido Journey” chapter, it had already reproduced content from the main episode at a 1:1 scale—even just producing the effects should have taken longer.
So, there was reason to suspect the new video was filmed before the Hokkaido chapter aired.
Even the sauce stains on Kaori Onishi’s mouth were perfectly replicated, ruling out the possibility that the account’s video just happened to overlap with the main episode by chance.
So, what reason would Insect Grave Company have for running this account?
Publicity? Or…
While the theorists were mired in doubt, they discovered a “Tsuiyue official” livestream recording, instantly treating it like treasure and poring over every second.
They believed there must be hidden secrets in the livestream—after all, Insect Grave Company was so mysterious.
There had to be a reason behind this account!
It must be the newest, trendiest (or not) ARG!
ARG—Alternate Reality Game—a kind of puzzle or interactive story that merges reality and fiction, drawing viewers (that is, players) into the plot to solve mysteries.
With the efforts of the community, clues were pieced together—the most obvious being the suit itself.
It was an exact copy of Jiang Jian Yue’s character.
Even in the “Hokkaido Journey” main episode, it was Jiang Jian Yue who filmed the “latest video.”
So, the account owner had to be “Jiang Jian Yue.”
Of course, this was Jiang Jian Yue in the context of ARG roleplay, not that the audience actually believed someone from another world was making these videos—that would be absurd.
This surface-level evidence further convinced theorists the account was an ARG game, causing later evidence to become increasingly far-fetched.
Like the reply to a bullet comment: “I’m a Kaori fan.” Clearly a hint that Kaori would win in the end!—
Though many Yue supporters in the ARG theory camp disagreed.
Seeing these people treat her livestream like the Dream of the Red Chamber, researching and analyzing every detail, Jiang Jian Yue almost broke out in cold sweat.
No way, I really just wanted to make some money.
Now, the comments below her account’s activity feed were all spammed with “Please, just livestream, I won’t do anything.”
Jiang Jian Yue thought for a moment, posted an update explaining she was busy lately and might not have time to stream, then switched back to her original account to watch the latest episode.
The voice in her mind had been quiet for a while, which felt unfamiliar.
“What, you already miss me?”
The woman’s voice was tinged with mockery.
“Go away.”
A new episode.
When Jiang Jian Yue clicked into the anime page, she couldn’t find episode twelve.
Hm? Did it freeze?
Cherry, look at this client you made—it’s a mess!
Jiang Jian Yue scrolled down and saw a new OVA, titled: Koji Hattori (Part 1).
Eh?
***
Koji Hattori felt like he was about to suffocate.
As Jiang Jian Yue’s earliest subordinate with supernatural powers, he’d been honorably promoted.
Given his background in the former Self-Defense Force, he was assigned the position of “GSAC Security Coordination Liaison Officer.”
The title sounded impressive, but in reality… his job was to deal with the “Homecoming Faction” members left behind by Nine-Tails Seiji, and—endlessly run back and forth to the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.
Naturally, the lower-level employees in the apartment were on holiday, but a position like Koji Hattori’s couldn’t possibly get a day off.
“Hattori-san, this is the police force deployment plan for the GSAC opening ceremony day. The Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department wants us to clearly mark the potential risk levels and response plans for each ‘high-risk ability user.’”
A blond man—once the most loyal right-hand of Nine-Tails Seiji, now one of the most dependable “workhorses” under Jiang Jian Yue—pushed a stack of documents half a foot thick across the table, his face expressionless.
“And this is from the Cabinet Office, a request for assistance with ‘foreign ability user entry screening.’ Our security group needs to draft detailed protocols as well. Please, by the end of today.”
Koji Hattori’s arms trembled as he hugged the pile of documents, feeling like he was carrying not paper but two heavy dumbbells.
He was a man of action, not paperwork!
But… the rest of the apartment’s colleagues had all been assigned to more important administrative posts.
The security guard Okita had gone to Kyoto to scout locations for a branch office, maid Meko had become head of the North American Selection due to her English skills, and even the kitchen staff were now responsible for future catering standards and bidding.
None of them complained, so as one of the rare “loyal subordinates” able to go up to the fifth floor unannounced, Koji Hattori couldn’t shrink back at a little thing like this!
***
Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department Headquarters, corridor.
The vending machine clattered as it dropped a can of hot coffee.
Hanyu Yukiki bent down, picked it up, pulled the tab, and gulped down a large mouthful.
As an “elite” transferred from Osaka to assist in the Saint Organization investigation and attend GSAC security training, his past few days hadn’t been great either.
Tokyo was far more bureaucratic than Osaka.
With Tokushu Jishou Taiou Honbu, the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department, and DRG, he was a small-town cop caught in the middle, unable to do anything.
Especially DRG—their elite members acted so domineeringly, completely disregarding public officials like him, as if they were Japan’s real masters.
“Sigh…”
He leaned against the wall and let out a deep sigh.
This wasn’t the police life he wanted—though maintaining order at large events was part of police work, too…
But what kind of detective drama protagonist gets stuck on security duty?
“So tired…”
Another voice, equally weary, spoke nearby.
Hanyu Yukiki turned his head and saw a black-haired man with bandaged hands struggling to feed coins into the vending machine.
“You’re… Hattori-san?”
Hanyu Yukiki recognized him.
After the Osaka incident, files on several members of the supernatural division had circulated within the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department and Tokushu Jishou Taiou Honbu, and as Jiang Jian Yue’s bodyguard, Koji Hattori was naturally among them.
“Oh? You know me?”
Koji Hattori looked surprised, then spotted the temporary pass hanging on Hanyu Yukiki’s chest.
“Ah, Officer Hanyu from Osaka Prefectural Police. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Since the other was just a low-ranking officer, this was the standard polite reply.
The two bowed awkwardly.
Clack!
Koji Hattori’s coffee dropped down as well.
They stood side by side, silent for a while, the only sound the slurping of coffee.
“Dawn Resources Group…”
Hanyu Yukiki stared at the gray sky outside the window, breaking the silence.
“Are they always this overbearing?”
It was a somewhat reckless thing to say so bluntly in front of Koji Hattori.
“Overbearing?”
He hesitated, then gave a wry smile.
“You mean those Homecoming Faction people? Well…”
Koji Hattori thought for a moment, then swallowed back words like “internal conflict” and “factions.”
“They’re elites. Naturally, they’re a bit… arrogant.”
“Arrogant?”
Hanyu Yukiki frowned.
“I think they’re just domineering—completely ignoring our investigation process. This morning they even took a batch of Saint Organization files directly from our evidence department, saying it was for ‘DRG internal assessment’!”
“This is just…”
I’m DRG myself, but is it really okay to be this blunt in front of me?
But Koji Hattori was easygoing, and he could tell Hanyu Yukiki was just venting, so he patted him on the shoulder.
“Well, Officer Hanyu, you’ll get used to it. I guess this kind of thing will only become more common in the future.”
Hanyu Yukiki was a bit stifled by his words, but couldn’t come up with a rebuttal.
He changed the subject, finally asking a long-held curiosity.
“Hattori-san, you’ve always been with that ‘Miss’… what kind of person is she?”
“Miss, huh…”
Koji Hattori’s eyes softened immediately.
He scratched his head, searching for the right words.
“How should I put it…”
“She’s very cold. Most of the time, if you talk to her, she might only reply with a single ‘Mm’.”
Koji Hattori finished his coffee and crushed the can.
“But if you work for her, she’ll reward you. If you’re loyal, she’ll protect you.”
“She doesn’t play tricks, and she doesn’t look down on you just because you’re ordinary.”
“And…”
Koji Hattori couldn’t help but smile.
“She’s actually very gentle, just hides it too deeply. Mm! Like… an air conditioner—it blows cold air, but the machine inside runs warm.”
“Huh?”
Hanyu Yukiki looked confused.
What kind of weird analogy was that?
“In any case!”
Koji Hattori concluded.
“Just know that she’s worth risking my life for.”
Hanyu Yukiki nodded in half-understanding, the image of the “Miss” growing even more mysterious in his mind.
Just then, Koji Hattori’s phone rang with a corny J-POP ringtone.
He took out his phone and, seeing the caller ID, his eyes sharpened slightly.
At a time like this…?