Shigeo sneered. Of course they loved using stand-ins. For safety, even "Lute" had a double.
It seemed that if he wanted the real Lute, he would have to reach East Secret Island.
Shigeo held back. He wanted to see how long they could strut.
Next, the host began announcing the top ten who impersonated him "the most convincingly" and made the most money. The prizes were hefty. Each time someone went onstage, the crowd erupted in applause.
At last the top-ten awards ended. The host looked out over the audience and asked, delighted, "Everyone, the next segment isn't a prize. Let's play a punishment game, shall we?"
Alcohol, money, and poor character produced uglier things.
"Today let's pick the person who looks the least like Shigeo and make him hand over everything on him, including his clothes. How about it?" the host shouted, excitement rising, while laughter rolled across the room.
"Yeah, yeah, strip his money, strip his clothes!" people below yelled.
"In that case, not everyone can participate. If you are not Shigeo, please go up to the fourth floor…"
The third and fourth floors were connected, with railing stairs around the sides. From the fourth floor you could see everything happening in the third-floor bar. The host was sending those brought aboard by the impostors up to the fourth floor so they could better pick, from those remaining on the third floor, the one who looked least like Shigeo.
Shigeo leaned on the bar, fingers tracing the rim of his glass. He tipped his head back for a sip and watched the hall with cold eyes. He did not leave.
Music started. Not loud. The host stood high above, watching some leave and some stay. The smile at the corner of his mouth grew.
"Now, let's choose today's least-like-Shigeo and punish him. I'll name a trait of Shigeo. Everyone compare yourselves. If you match, stand on the right. If you don't, stay where you are. All right?"
"All right!" the crowd bellowed.
"Then everyone, move to the left…" The host raised the mic and shouted, "First, Shigeo is blind! Anyone who looks like a blind man, go to the right!"
Shigeo, already leaning on the bar to the left, didn't have to cooperate on purpose. He already appeared to be doing so.
At that line, his fingers tightened slightly.
Some people regretted missing that condition. Those who "matched" looked pleased. On the fourth floor, the onlookers, eager to stir the pot, began to whistle.
"Ah, I was even wearing sunglasses this morning. It's dark at night, sunglasses are inconvenient. If I'd known about this game I'd have worn them out. I'm stuck now. Hope they don't pick me later!"
"I'm stuck too. Relax, there will be more conditions!"
Those left behind muttered, unwilling to give up.
"It's just a game. We're here for fun, so don't mind it too much. Next condition, which many of you might meet: if you consider yourself handsome, to the right…"
This time, plenty more moved right.
"Final one. Shigeo has short black hair. Examine yourselves and choose."
With that, almost everyone on the left moved right. The spotlight swung, then settled on the only person left on the left side of the hall: the man by the bar, long black hair, bright eyes—the same man who had been drinking there since he came in. Shigeo.
He raised his eyes to the high platform. The host was bent double with laughter. Pointing into the spotlight, he shouted, "See that? Long hair! We all know Shigeo has short hair. He's the most, most, most unlike Shigeo in the entire hall. Tell me, how should we punish him?"
Wild laughter broke out. Many knew what would come next.
"Now, let's invite the person least like our hero to come up. You there, unknown little brother, do you dare?"
The moment Shigeo had spoken up earlier, the host had noticed him. So he deliberately cooked up this "punishment game" to shut the mouths of those who hadn't contributed to the Blue-Gate crowd's plans.
"The real Shigeo would come here? Is he crazy? If he came, would these people still be fine?"
This one was obviously a fan of the original. He couldn't stand all the fakes and still wanted to get close, so he'd found some way aboard the cruise ship. Speaking like that here from the original's standpoint?
If this type didn't get taught a lesson, he would never understand that Shigeo's name was just a tool they used.
Spurred on, Shigeo smiled and stepped toward the stage. He spoke as he walked. "Don't regret inviting me up."
The host laughed and waved. Several freelance shinobi appeared. Some carried weapons. Some looked vicious. Each looked like trouble.
On the stage, Shigeo stood beside the host. From that angle, he could see the fake Lute standing in the dark, watching everything unfold.
Judging from how the host treated people, his status on this ship was clearly much higher than that of the fake Lute.
"Bold. Since you're onstage, hand over everything on you. From the look of you, you don't take this job seriously. I doubt your name is even on the rankings." The host spoke while watching the crowd, mouth grinning to his ears, face full of smugness.
"So what? The real can't be faked. The fake can't be real."
A hush, then a wave of disdain rose below. "He plays it this badly and dares talk like that? He's not taking us seriously. If not for us, people would have forgotten Shigeo already."
"Exactly. Look down on our cause and you deserve a lesson. Punish him! Punish him!"
The people below felt slandered, shouting to tear the boy limb from limb.
"Listen to you, as if you were the real one. You joined the game. Lose and pay the price. Come on, hand over everything on you." The host sneered, stepping in to strip his clothes.
He reached out—and Shigeo seized his wrist and flicked up. A sharp crack rang out. The host's arm snapped.
(End of Chapter)
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