The drizzle outside the window wove a fine gray net, silently shrouding Tokyo.
Raindrops meandered down the glass, leaving blurred water trails that smeared the neon lights outside into hazy patches of color.
Cuiyue withdrew her gaze from the curtain of rain.
She lightly pinched a stick of incense with her fingertips and lit it.
A thin coil of blue smoke rose slowly into the damp air.
The familiar sweet scent drifted through the room, bringing a rare sense of peace.
Earning and saving money was addictive.
Compared to her former state of mind—stumbling through work just to survive—she now possessed abilities far beyond those of ordinary people.
Getting paid for using them made her truly realize what it meant for labor to bring joy.
However, this personal happiness felt thin and fragile under the increasingly gloomy sky.
Cuiyue could clearly feel that the state of the entire world was plummeting at a visible speed, sliding slowly but irrevocably toward an abyss.
A year ago, because of GSAC, a large amount of international capital had been pushing the yen to appreciate.
At the same time, Japan needed to import astronomical amounts of resources and special materials, which created devaluation pressure.
The exchange rate was like a drop tower, suddenly soaring only to plummet back to earth.
Now that the tournament was about to begin, the yen had stabilized—stabilized into a downward trend.
This was undoubtedly bad news for Japan, which relied heavily on external imports.
Prices were on the verge of hyperinflation.
Being unable to afford meat was no longer a joke from internet trolls in neighboring countries; it was reality.
‘But it’s fine; the Yamato people are a herbivorous nation!’
More and more scholars were realizing that GSAC driving the Japanese economy was merely a final attempt at life support.
They needed to find a new way to patch the holes immediately.
Just as the Osaka Expo had failed to save Osaka, dreaming of replicating a past economic miracle in today’s poor global environment was nothing more than a pipe dream.
There were only two possible outcomes for GSAC.
Either it would be held grandly, and Japan would scrape by on the dividends of the preparations, or… something unexpected would happen, leading to a miserable end.
The latter would cause the tertiary industry, which the “Expo Economy” was supposed to boost most, to collapse.
That would be true hell.
Nowadays, every Japanese person on the street wore a faint look of worry.
The “Lost Decades” were finally coming to an end, and soon, a new era would be defined by the years following GSAC.
Although Cuiyue knew nothing about economics and only half-understood why prices were rising, she could still feel it.
‘Something big is coming.’
The depression of the macro-environment eventually affected the individual.
For instance, the recent series of events, like the sudden dissolution of the Adventurer Bulletin Board Group, had cut off a source of side income.
It left Cuiyue feeling somewhat unsettled.
Only the scent lingering at the tip of her nose could soothe her stray thoughts.
Click.
The sound of a key turning in the lock penetrated the poorly soundproofed walls.
Cuiyue instinctively rubbed her nose, which was slightly irritated by the incense, slid off her chair, and jogged out of the bedroom in her slippers.
“Welcome ba—”
The smile on Cuiyue’s face vanished instantly, replaced by deep confusion.
Mr. Sato stood in the cramped entryway, his face a mix of embarrassment and a fawning smile.
His shoulders were slumped in their habitual slouch.
Behind him stood a weary-faced woman in simple clothes, clutching a worn canvas bag.
Beside the woman, a teenage girl in a slightly oversized school uniform hung her head, her dark green hair covering most of her face.
Only her tightly pursed lips were visible.
“Miss Cuiyue…”
Mr. Sato rubbed his hands together, his voice even more cautious than usual.
“This is… Miwako, my ex-wife. And this is Aoi, my daughter.”
He paused, as if gathering his courage.
“They… they’re facing some difficulties right now and have nowhere to stay for the time being, so…”
Cuiyue’s gaze swept over the three of them.
Mr. Sato’s eyes flickered, not daring to look at her directly.
Miwako forced a strained smile, her expression filled with deep apology.
Sato Aoi flicked her eyes up for a split second, her gaze complex—filled with curiosity, scrutiny, and even a faint trace of… resistance?
Cuiyue understood.
Mr. Sato had been working with her recently, helping manage the warehouse and procure supplies.
He was indeed much better off financially now.
He was honest and nostalgic by nature; he had likely let it slip that he had money while drinking with old friends.
Word had reached his ex-wife.
In these difficult times of skyrocketing prices and waves of unemployment, the mother and daughter had come knocking since they had nowhere else to go.
“Oh.”
Cuiyue responded, her voice flat and devoid of emotion.
She stepped aside slightly to clear the way.
“Please, come in.”
“Sorry for the intrusion! I’m so sorry!”
Miwako bowed repeatedly, her voice a mix of gratitude and embarrassment.
Sato Aoi also bowed slightly, her movements stiff.
For this young girl, returning “home” in this manner was likely awkward and uncomfortable.
Cuiyue could understand them.
The small living room felt even more crowded with two extra people.
Cuiyue walked into the kitchen in silence and began preparing a simple late-night snack—instant ramen and some oden bought from the convenience store.
Mr. Sato tried to help, but she wordlessly waved him away.
The steam from the boiling noodles rose, yet it couldn’t dispel the awkwardness hanging in the air.
The four of them sat around the low table in a heavy atmosphere.
The only sounds were the occasional clink of chopsticks against bowls and the slurping of noodles.
“Miss Cuiyue is… very young. You’re truly accomplished for your age,” Miwako said, trying to break the silence with a cautious tone.
“Mm.”
Cuiyue reacted flatly to the polite praise, keeping her head down as she focused on picking at the fishcakes in her bowl.
“Dad said you’ve helped him a lot. Thank you for looking after him,” Sato Aoi suddenly spoke.
Her voice was clear, but she didn’t look at Cuiyue, staring instead at the bowl in front of her.
“He used to… always be such a worry.”
It sounded like a thank you, but Cuiyue keenly caught the implication behind “always be such a worry.”
It was as if she were saying that the capable Mr. Sato was now “thanks to someone else.”
Mr. Sato’s face turned even redder, and he stammered, unable to find words.
“Aoi!”
Miwako hissed, her tone carrying a warning.
“I’m just telling the truth.”
Aoi muttered softly and finally looked up, casting a quick glance at Cuiyue.
There was more curiosity and scrutiny in that gaze than before.
Cuiyue’s hand tightened on her chopsticks.
She could feel Miwako’s gaze on her—an expression of someone who had seen much of the world and understood things without needing to say them aloud.
More than half the noodles remained in her bowl, but her stomach felt heavy and blocked.
Awkward.
The patter of rain outside, the stifling air inside, the silent messages from the mother and daughter, and Mr. Sato’s silence… all of it made Cuiyue feel a bit suffocated.
“I’m full.”
Cuiyue set down her chopsticks.
Her voice was calm, but her movements were a fraction faster than usual.
“I just remembered there’s some urgent business to handle at the base. Please, take your time.”
She stood up without looking at anyone and walked straight to her room—which had originally been Sato Aoi’s room.
“Ah? This late?”
Mr. Sato looked up in surprise.
“Yes, emergency training,”
Cuiyue answered briefly and closed the door.
A moment later, she emerged wearing her dark training clothes, which were suited for movement.
She carried almost nothing.
“I’m heading out.”
“Be careful on the road!”
Miwako called out quickly.
Cuiyue didn’t look back.
She merely gave a short “mm” before her figure vanished into the shadows of the stairwell.
The door closed, shutting out the dim light of the apartment.
Outside, Cuiyue slowly let out a sigh of relief, feeling the rain fall gently on her.
It felt very much like the rain from six months ago when she had first arrived in this world.
The girl tilted her head back, letting the rain soak her face.
Then, her body transformed into a bolt of lightning, surging into the sky.
***
Special Response HQ, Operations Adjustment Office.
“What is Matsumoto doing? Why didn’t he wait to mobilize more superpower users?”
Upon hearing the bad news from other departments, Kawada Hou was furious, shattering his favorite cup.
Six months.
For an entire six months, the Special Response HQ had been looking for that mole!
Now, before they could interrogate him, the mole had committed suicide?
Although the task of finding the mole had been handed over to the new Internal Affairs Office established after the new year, as the person who had previously spearheaded the investigation, he was still on the verge of a breakdown.
“Uh… Director Matsumoto said it was due to a lack of communication between the various offices,”
a subordinate answered.
“Ha?”
Even though Kawada Hou came from a military background, it was easy to see that this wasn’t caused by a so-called “communication issue.”
“Director Matsumoto… has been getting quite close to the people from the Curtain Cluster lately,” another subordinate added pointedly.
The anger on Kawada Hou’s face softened slightly, replaced by confusion.
As one of the few “opposition members” within the Special Response HQ, he had always resisted the Curtain Cluster, which now controlled almost every vital artery of the organization.
Even though they had supposedly “disbanded” and broken into smaller units… that kind of lie couldn’t even fool Kawada Hou.
But unfortunately, the fact that the Special Response HQ hadn’t let the situation deteriorate further after the GPRI Hunter Incident was thanks to the help of those from the Curtain Cluster.
If they really were sabotaging the crackdown on the Saints as he suspected, what was their goal?
As an “opposition member,” he knew the character of the Curtain Cluster members.
They were truly people who prioritized national interests and wouldn’t collude with a cult.
Unless…
Unless they had a higher priority target, and because of that target’s existence, the Saints couldn’t be uprooted so early.
‘The DRG?’
A flash of displeasure crossed Kawada Hou’s eyes.
He also disliked the Dawn Resources Group, but the problem was… the current Captain of Special Response HQ Unit 1 was his recommendation.
And every government department in Japan knew the open secret that Yuki Asahi was in a relationship with the young lady of the Jiang family.
With that connection, Kawada Hou felt as if he were being targeted as well.
And at this critical moment, were they going to strike at the DRG?
‘A bunch of lunatics!’
The DRG trusted the Special Response HQ so much that they passed along information about the mole from an unknown source, and these guys…
Kawada Hou made up his mind and said to the subordinate beside him,
“Help me contact Morita Aoya.”
“Yes, sir… Under what pretext?”
“…To apologize in person for the failure of the capture!”
Kawada Hou rubbed his temples and then sighed.
“And while I’m at it… we’ll talk about cleaning out the Saints.”