The file was closed. The sound was sharp. Final. A thick black cover hit the surface of the wooden table. The file. The red title:
Disappearance - Under Investigation
The pen paused above it for a moment, then withdrew.
The general's hand was cleaner than necessary. Kanzaki raised the glass. Apple juice. A clear golden color, moving slowly with the swirl.
A sip. Quiet. A small smile.
"How many?"
His voice was low. Steady. As if asking about the weather.
The officer stood before him.
Morioka.
His back straight, but his shoulders rigid.
"Seventeen cases this month alone, sir."
Kanzaki's expression did not change. A second sip. He placed the glass aside, with disturbing precision.
"And the people?"
Morioka hesitated for half a second. Then:
"They've started noticing. Fear is spreading. Rumors..."
Kanzaki raised his finger. Not a command. A stop to the thought.
"Don't say disappearance."
Morioka fell silent.
"Say: Escape, Illegal travel, Internal conflicts, Anything."
Around the table, Other files. Many. All closed.
"Close the cases."
Kanzaki said simply.
"Redefine them. Withdraw the investigators."
He tilted his head slightly. A softer tone:
"And the people…"
He smiled.
"Give them something to look at."
Morioka understood immediately.
"Public event?"
"Festival."
A third sip.
"Night. Lights. Music. Something that makes them forget why they were afraid in the first place."
Silence.
Then, Kanzaki finally looked at Morioka.
"Shin."
The name fell like a stone into a glass.
"Where is he?"
The air froze. Morioka clenched his fist. Then said in a less steady voice:
"Sir…"
He paused. Swallowed.
"Shin Kagiri… hasn't come to work for some time."
Kanzaki did not blink.
"Did he report in?"
—"No. And he left no trace.And no one… knows where he went."
The smile vanished. But the calm… did not waver. Kanzaki extended his hand. He took the glass of apple juice. He looked at the liquid for a moment, as if assessing its clarity.
"Strange…"
He said quietly.
"People are disappearing."
A final sip.
"And now… the officers as well."
He set the glass down. Stood.
"Continue with the plan."
He said it while turning his back.
"And we will search for Shin… our way."
The door opened. And closed. The file remained on the table. Closed. But, it was no longer silent.
_
At the School of Magic.
The Reception class students stood lined up. Robes swayed with the wind, and whispers slipped faster than sound.
— "Did you hear?"
— "A noble… came himself."
— "Here?"
— "They say his mere presence… is an honor for our school."
No one laughed. Nor did anyone raise their voice.
On a distant wall, Shōen was leaning. His back against the stone, arms crossed, eyes half-closed, as if counting time… not the students.
Shōen of rank. Senior Archmage. One of the names rarely spoken.
He did not move immediately. Then, he pushed the wall with his shoulder, and straightened. One glance at the courtyard. Enough.
He turned, and walked. Passed through the long stone corridor, then turned. The Binding Section.
The door wasn't large, but it was too heavy to be opened without reason. It opened. The air changed. A vast hall, its ceiling higher than it should be, the magical circles extinguished… yet present.
And in the center: Kaguchi. Sitting alone. Only him… and his silence.
Shōen stopped a few steps away. He did not raise his voice.
"Kaguchi."
He raised his head slowly. His eyes did not widen. He was not surprised.
"Someone is waiting for you."
A brief silence. Then Shōen added, turning his body half around:
"In the Eternal Pact Hall."
The name alone was enough. Kaguchi did not stand immediately. He closed his eyes for a moment. One breath… deep. Then he opened them.
Inside him, it was not fear that moved but a cold, sharp awareness. He rose.
Shōen did not comment. He only gave a small gesture toward the corridor. Kaguchi moved.
Then, the scene cut.
_
In front of the Eternal Pact Hall,
the door opened for two. Thick silence. A luxurious hall, clean, orderly… luxury that does not boast.
One step in. Then another. And in the center a lavish, dark, polished chair. And on it…
Akira.
Sitting as if the place were made for him. Leg over leg. His back relaxed. His arm resting with deliberate lazy confidence.
A woman in his lap. Too close. Her laugh low, fingers at the collar of his chest. To his right, a girl. To his left, another. Both looking at him while he smiles…
Akira moves his hand. Raises a glass filled with the finest liquor. He sips. Then he smiles. A tilted smile, playful, and with something predatory in it.
He said it deliberately, quietly, like one welcoming a late guest:
"It's been a long time… Kaguchi."
He lowered the glass slowly. A soft sound touched the table. He leaned back further. Drew the woman closer without looking at her.
And continued, in a tone that knows more than it says:
"I was wondering… when you would arrive."
The hall remained still. The chair remained still. The smile… had not disappeared.
_
Meanwhile, in the center of the school,
the bell rang… The students of the Deformation Section moved slowly.
Amané remained seated. In front of her, the wooden table, and on it a small gray leather pouch. She did not open it.
Shirai was standing near the window. He did not move immediately. He blinked once, then said in a low voice:
"How much money did they pay this time?"
Amané took the pouch from her pocket. She opened it. Turned it over on the table.
"Thirty-two currency units."
Shirai looked at the money, not counting it… but as if measuring the insult.
"And how many Heart Coins did you give them?"
Amané did not hesitate.
"Seven Heart Coins."
Shirai was silent for a moment. Then he laughed. A short laugh, with no trace of amusement.
"Seven…"
He raised his gaze.
"And they gave you this back?"
Amané gathered the money in her hand. Returned it to the pouch.
"They said this is the standard price."
Shirai stepped closer.
"Standard price since when?"
Amané answered in a cold, hard tone:
"Since they decided the coins are not ours."
She lifted her eyes.
"We collect them… and they evaluate them."
She paused for a moment.
"And they pay what they deem appropriate. Not what it's worth."
Shirai clenched his jaw.
"Even on missions?"
"Even on missions."
Amané said it without changing her tone.
"Danger does not change the number. Death does not change the number. The number is fixed… because we are not part of the decision."
Heavy silence.
Finally, Shirai said:
"So whether you took the coin from a living heart…"
He gestured to the pouch.
"Or returned from a mission on the edge of deformation…"
Amané lowered her voice.
"The result is the same."
She closed the pouch tightly.
"We are not paid for what we do."
She said.
"We are paid to stay silent."
Amané took the pouch. Placed it in her inner pocket.
Shirai said:
"That is not enough for you.?"
It was not a question.
Amané replied immediately:
"I know."
_
Then Amané left to return home. The road was longer than usual. When she arrived, she opened the door, silence preceding her.
A sound of an empty stomach. Her little sister was sitting on the floor, hugging her knees, looking at the empty kitchen.
"Amané…"
She said in a soft voice.
"Did… you bring something?"
Amané took off her shoes. She set the bag aside. She did not answer immediately. From the other room, her stepmother came out. A scowling face. Eyes not searching for a solution, but for an excuse.
"You're late."
She said it coldly.
"Your job at the school…"
She looked around.
"Clearly, it doesn't put food on the table."
Amané took out the pouch. She opened it. Placed the money on the table. Counted it with her eyes only. Then she said:
"This is what I have."
The woman looked at the money. Raised an eyebrow.
"That's not enough."
Amané did not argue.
The woman said, pointing her hand toward the door:
"Then take your sister…"
She paused. Then added:
"And don't come back until you find a solution."
A moment of silence. Her little sister tugged at Amané's sleeve.
"I'm hungry…"
Amané looked at the money. Then at her sister. Then at the open door. In that moment, she understood only one thing:
In this world, even survival… is a currency of diminished value.
She raised her head. And said nothing. She only felt… that the path she was walking no longer allowed for return.