22 / 04 / 2019 - Higashiosaka, Osaka Prefecture, Japan.
7:20 PM, Wednesday. Tamakushichohigashi, Higashiosaka.
"This investigation is strictly restricted to a pool of five LEVEL-2 and two LEVEL-3 operators. The time limit is exactly two weeks. If an operator fails to report a definitive lead or meaningful progress within this period, they will be summarily excused and replaced by the next applicant on the waiting list."
The bright glow of his smartphone screen illuminated his plain, pale face amidst the evening darkness, his crimson-ashen eyes carefully tracing the lines of text.
Since he had formally accepted the contract the previous evening, he wanted to read through the brief one more time as a standard precaution.
In his line of work, missing a single variable was synonymous with suicide.
"Since we operate under the assumption that you wish to remain entirely anonymous, we know the rules. Hence, the various scenes of death have been preserved without any official personnel stationed on-site. You may infiltrate them at your own discretion."
"In total, there are 24 identified casualty locations. An astronomical number, to be sure. They are scattered entirely across the Prefecture, cordoned off with standard yellow police tape. This should be more than enough to keep you busy…"
Ignoring the oddly mocking tone at the end of the text, Akane continued to scroll down, swiping his thumb upward to reveal the core logistical data.
"The temporary morgues are also open for a strict duration of one week. This specific window is your absolute best chance to glean further biometric information before the grieving relatives demand the release of the bodies for cremation. You had better hurry."
"The bodies are currently stored in proximity to the respective local hospitals nearest to the crime scenes. The registered addresses are attached below: [Link], [Link], [Link]…"
That was enough data to work with for now.
Akane lifted his head from the screen. A sudden, powerful gust of wind rushed across the open space, blowing his dark hair back and revealing a vast, dark field bordered by a quiet row of residential houses on his left.
Stepping away from the rusted metal railing of the bridge, he used his right hand to smooth down his windblown hair, his left hand still loosely clutching his phone.
Currently, he was standing directly over the narrow channel of the Onji River.
Shifting the strap of his gym bag over his shoulder, he turned on his heel to re-enter the outskirts of the quiet residential area.
He turned left, walking along the edge of a modern house; on the opposite side of the bridge, the landscape dissolved into a pitch-black, sprawling agricultural field.
'The nearest coordinate shouldn't be far from here…'
Occasionally glancing down at his GPS to cross-reference his position, he walked with a slow, bored stride.
It was exactly as the anonymous poster had stated — with twenty-four separate casualty sites scattered across Osaka, the statistical probability of running into one of the other six independent operators tonight was exceptionally small.
But it wasn't zero.
Still, he was currently dressed in a standard high school uniform. The deeply ingrained, preconceived notions of mundane society would always cause people to mistake him for a completely harmless, predictable creature.
Then again, that naive logic only applied to ordinary humans. It certainly wouldn't save him if he crossed paths with an exceptional individual possessing a truly broken, deranged mind.
Eventually, after a few minutes of walking accompanied by the distant, fractured glimmer of the city centre, Akane stopped dead in his tracks.
"Hmmm…"
It was exactly as he had calculated. Spinning his body to the right, he lifted his gaze from his phone. Reflected in his eyes was a multi-unit boarding house, entirely consumed by a heavy darkness that set it apart from the neighbouring buildings.
Scanning the layout, his eyes tracked down the concrete slope leading toward an outdoor stairwell. The entrance to the steps was crudely cordoned off with bright yellow police tape, leading up to the second floor.
'Did they evacuate the entire boarding house just for this case…?'
He paused in silence. Even though it was early evening, the immediate street was completely dead.
The only sounds left were the distant yowl of a stray cat and the rhythmic, buzzing hum of cicadas drifting from the nearby fields, carried by a cool breeze.
Standing motionless for a fraction of a second, Akane faintly cut his eyes left and right. Having thoroughly scanned his blind spots, he finally made his move.
Ducking under the yellow tape at the base of the concrete slope, he began to ascend the stairs.
As he took steady, quiet steps into the shadows, his mind mechanically recited the content of the file he had memorised regarding this particular victim.
'Victim #18: Matsui Yoshihito. Thirty-seven years old, male. Logistics manager at Sumitomo Warehouse. Time of discovery: April 18th, 2019 — 02:15 AM.'
Arriving on the second-floor balcony, the ambient glow of the distant city skyline cut through the darkness of the abandoned building.
Coupled with the clear, unclouded sky, the weather was actually quite pleasant. Too pleasant.
'Location of discovery: tucked into the bed of his rented room. Physical condition: lying flat on his back, head facing the ceiling, hands splayed messily at his sides without any distinct pattern.'
Bypassing a row of identical closed doors on his right, Akane continued to cross-reference the data.
He hopped over another strand of yellow tape with practised agility, finally arriving at the very last unit on the floor. He stopped, facing a grayish mechanical doorknob.
'External trauma: Zero. No bruising, no petechiae in the eyes, no defensive wounds, and absolutely no signs of a struggle or physical restraint.'
Reaching out, his fingers wrapped around the handle. He gave it a firm tug. The door gave way without a shred of resistance — it had been left completely unlocked. He was instantly greeted by a pitch-black corridor, devoid of even a sliver of ambient light.
Staring straight into the textbook prelude of a horror movie, a sudden spike of adrenaline caused him to shudder slightly.
Even though his rational mind knew he would likely find nothing but dust here, he kept his expression perfectly deadpan. He had to match the eerie atmosphere, after all.
In the end, he had long since lost the feeling of fear and wonder. Even now, he still couldn't quite get used to this bland, grey world; and even if the sensation was artificial, it somehow gave him a sense of being alive rather than a mechanical husk.
Back to the matter at hand.
'Internal toxicology findings: No lethal substances, poisons, or heavy narcotics detected in the bloodstream. Slightly elevated levels of melatonin and sleep-inducing enzymes consistent with deep, natural REM sleep.'
"Official Preliminary Cause of Death," Akane murmured aloud, his voice flat in the empty space. "Acute idiopathic cardiac arrest during sleep. Sudden Unexplained Death Syndrome."
Finishing the recitation, he flicked on his phone's flashlight and held it with his left hand. He stepped leisurely across the threshold and into the apartment.
Raising it to his chest, the sharp beam of light cut through the gloom, revealing a heavily layered, dusty corridor that stretched toward a slightly illuminated living area at the far end.
"
Silently activating his Interpretation ability, his eyes transformed, glowing with a radiant bluish-silver light.
Gradually, the world within his field of vision shifted, breaking down into a hyper-detailed grain as fine as microscopic sand.
He gazed indifferently at his surroundings.
The frantic movement of dust motes suspended in the air, the microscopic collisions where light dissolved into shadow, the exact fibre dimensionality of the worn wooden walls — everything laid itself bare to him.
Satisfied with the output, Akane let out a quiet, proud snort.
After surviving the past few weeks of pure adversity, it would be an absolute embarrassment if he couldn't even transition from mere baseline control to actively manipulating his own abilities.
Thanks to his recently enhanced cognitive capacity, the risk of information overload was completely minimised.
Even when taking in an entire localised environment all at once, his mind didn't buckle under the strain. In fact, even without manual effort, he could flawlessly filter out exactly what he needed to see.
Using a camera analogy, his eyes could freely blur out unnecessary background elements and execute selective macro-focus in an instant, without requiring a separate skill activation.
With all these systematic upgrades and enhancements, he would have to be an absolute disgrace to fail at achieving anything in this world.
Thud.
Thud.
"I seriously wonder… if ghosts are actually real, why don't they ever take revenge on the person who murdered them? Why do they always haunt the guy trying to help them find peace?"
Muttering under his breath, his footsteps echoed softly down the silent corridor. His gaze swept the architecture as his body spun in a slow circle.
Did people actually find peace as ghosts anyway? Think about it logically — who wouldn't want a lifestyle like that? You don't need to eat, you don't have to pay taxes, and you never have to worry about geopolitical drama.
Sure, you might cry a little at night while lamenting your untimely demise, but you can still casually float around touching people whenever you want without any legal repercussions. What an absolute bunch of perverts.
The only real downside was that if you overstepped your boundaries, you'd probably get exorcised by a professional down the line.
Akane highly doubted traditional exorcisms even worked against actual anomalies, but he could only pray for a definitive outcome.
Looking at the completely untouched environment — a space no civilian had stepped into since the incident — his mind was essentially idle.
Everything here matched the baseline parameters he had calculated before even arriving. He had already deduced the outcome of this little investigation.
The bathroom and laundry area were on the left side of the corridor, doors wide open. No one had taken a final bath here. Noted.
The closed door on the right should be the master bedroom; he would save that for last. Noted.
Finally, the narrow corridor opened up, greeting him with a slightly wider living space.
Humming thoughtfully, his flashlight swept over a sliding glass door leading to a balcony, a small lounge area, and a compact kitchen.
A remarkably neat, well-maintained place for a single salaryman.
Stepping further into the room, his socks sliding slightly on the flooring, he clicked his tongue in a mix of mild annoyance and boredom.
Standing dead-centre in the middle of the living room, he was momentarily at a loss for his next tactical move.
"What now? Ghost, if you're actually lingering around, you might as well step up and tell me what happened."
Looking around as his voice echoed, a brilliant idea suddenly flashed in his mind. He cleared his throat, altering his pitch to a mysterious, inviting tone.
"Hello, Matsui-san? I wonder if you are perhaps interested in ascending to heaven today…?"
He dropped his voice an octave, adopting the harsh, transactional tone of a manager.
"Matsui-kun, this is the boss speaking. You haven't shown up to the warehouse for the last four days without an official notice. As of right now, your contract is terminated!"
He then clasped his hands to his face, shifting into a high-pitched, wildly melodramatic theatrical wail.
"How could you?! How dare you leave me all alone like this, Matsui-san?! We have ten beautiful children to raise together! You better wake up right this instant!"
'Jiiii….'
After a stretch of silence, peering through the crack between his fingers and moving his head around — finding nothing, answered by nothing.
Dropping his hands and the act entirely, Akane stood back as though nothing had happened, exhaling breathlessly and wiping a bead of sweat from his temple with the back of his right hand.
His lips pursed into a flat, deadpan line. Thinking back on his behaviour just now, he felt a sudden pang of second-hand shame — even if his rational mind couldn't technically process it.
If the late Matsui-san really was sitting up in heaven right now, he was probably laughing his ass off.
"It doesn't work, huh?"
Shaking his head, he conceded that supernatural investigation wouldn't be that simple.
Pivoting on his heel, he began walking back toward the cramped corridor. He didn't even bother fully inspecting the kitchen counters or the rubbish bins.
If the Heaven Gate's specialised forensics task force couldn't find a single physical trace here, what made the Dark Network think a high schooler could just stumble upon something?
Did people honestly think reality functioned like a mystery novel where a critical, game-changing clue could be easily overlooked by professionals? To believe that would be to drastically underestimate the cognitive capacity of both the police and himself.
'Having no definitive lead is a massive waste of resources. Searching aimlessly is a waste of valuable time.'
Before heading out of the apartment entirely, Akane paused. He reached to his left and slowly pushed open the bedroom door, revealing a pitch-black, cluttered interior.
As the beam of his flashlight cut through the dark, the atmosphere shifted drastically.
"Ugh…"
The moment he stepped across the threshold, a heavy wave of stale, musk-laden air thick with a distinct metallic scent assaulted his senses.
What the hell? Could a dead man still find a way to inflict psychological damage from beyond the grave? Groaning in disgust, he aggressively waved a hand in front of his nose.
Moving deeper into the room while keeping a safe distance from the mattress, Akane observed the messy environment.
The uniform layer of dust blanketing the floor was heavily disrupted by a chaotic web of footprints. The forensics team had clearly been busy bagging evidence and moving the corpse.
Wrinkling his nose, he tracked the dust anomalies toward the nightstand and the bed frame. Sure enough, a clean, dust-free circle mapped out exactly where the victim's daily essentials had been confiscated.
Finally, leaning his head forward, Akane trained his flashlight directly onto the centre of the bed.
'Ohhh. My very first time viewing an actual, authentic crime scene…'
Outwardly, the setup looked entirely mundane. But through the hyper-detailed lens of his active
After all, the last person who had slept under these sheets was now a corpse.
Shifting his gaze faintly, he locked onto a prominent indentation pressed deep into the pillow.
A damp discolouration patch caught the light — the unmistakable residue of dried saliva. The bitter, stale odour of a body's sudden biological shutdown lingered over the fabric. Noted.
And finally, right in the centre of the lower mattress, lay a sight on an entirely separate level of repulsive.
Yet Akane found himself staring at it with genuine gusto. A massive, dark stain coated the material, emitting a faint, pungent stench that had festered behind the closed bedroom door for weeks.
'Well, well, well. If it isn't classic post-mortem incontinence. The moment the brain's electrical signals cease and the sphincters completely relax, the contents of the bladder empty out like a localised torrent.'
"Neat. Foundational biological evidence," Akane muttered, nodding with clinical interest.
Excellent. His surface-level inspection was officially complete. Time to pull back.
Turning his body back toward the corridor, Akane suddenly froze as an icy, unnatural breeze brushed directly across the bare skin of his neck.
A literal shiver ran down his spine. Without looking back, Akane immediately accelerated his stride, walking completely out of the bedroom.
Stepping past the threshold, he grabbed the metal handle, pulled the door shut behind him, and leaned his back heavily against the frame.
What the hell was that? Had the late Matsui-san finally decided to respond to his provocation? Why couldn't he do it sooner? Honestly, it also matched the descriptions.
The users on the Dark Network forums always insisted that vengeful spirits were real.
"Well, whatever…"
In the end, he simply couldn't be bothered to deal with any supernatural shenanigans tonight. Pushing himself away from the bedroom door, he walked briskly down the hallway to end this excursion.
Stepping out onto the open-air balcony, he was instantly greeted by a cool, familiar breeze.
The lingering scent of death faded from his nostrils bit by bit, replaced by the clean, crisp air of the outskirts.
Letting out a profound sigh of relief, his hyper-vigilant mind finally began to wind down.
After taking a deep, restorative inhale, he turned around to look at the pitch-black apartment one last time. He reached out, swung the front door shut, and locked it into place with a faint, satisfied smile.
"Goodbye, Matsui-san."
Patting the nonexistent dust off his hands and his black woollen jacket, he exhaled a mouthful of breath and leaned his elbows against the balcony railing, staring out at the sprawling, distant city lights.
"Anyway… what a wonderful experience."
A half-smile played on his lips. He had fully expected to achieve absolutely nothing on his first day of field research, and the mathematical reality had proven him right.
It was a bit discouraging, sure, but he didn't feel angry, nor did he harbour any intention of giving up.
'After all, I simply don't possess the correct tools yet.'
In a scenario like this, his current armament and skills were practically useless.
Even if his physical output was terrifying and his proficiency in close-quarters combat was optimised, he remained completely powerless against abstract, invisible phenomena.
His crimson-ashen eyes, swirling like a volatile mixture of oil, pulled back from the horizon. He looked down at his dusty, slightly soiled hands. His
'Look at myself. In my current state, what can I actually do?'
Out of pure necessity, he began to dissect his ability.
But what about
If he could alter his eyes or ears to perceive hidden, esoterically shifted wavelengths — if the presumed ghosts actually operated on such frequencies — he might be able to intercept supernatural phenomena. Something like yin-yang eyes?
He paused, staring blankly at his palms. It was an ambitious, perhaps overreaching hypothesis, but the structural possibility couldn't be ruled out.
Just as the possibility of an overlooked clue in this very room couldn't be ruled out.
On paper, the victim had died of natural causes.
But if twenty-four separate individuals across Osaka Prefecture all suffered the exact same "natural cause" within a two-week window… what were the actual statistical odds of that being a coincidence?
Nearing zero, but not quite — perhaps as low as the odds of a meteor striking the earth tomorrow.
To be designated as a "strange death" by the underground market meant supernatural intervention was an absolute certainty.
'It's a roundabout equation, but in the end, everything falls back to a single baseline. What data do we actually have?'
That was it. There was one foundational variable that could easily be overlooked — or perhaps the other six operators had already deduced it.
Lifting his head, the faint smile completely vanished from Akane's face. If these mass deaths were intentional, an underlying algorithm had to exist.
What was the hidden pattern connecting their deaths? What specific, overlapping variable did these seemingly random citizens share to be targeted by the exact same anomaly? That data was a lead in and of itself.
"Well, well, well. Ain't that interesting…"
Catching the distant neon pulse of the central Osaka skyline through his peripheral vision, Akane narrowed his eyes.
He calculated with absolute certainty that over the coming days, the body count would only continue to climb.