2 - Noble Son, Have Tea

President Azami was watching a display monitoring the analysis being done on the server room.

If Ichiro’s account had been hacked via an infiltration through the system server itself, the problem could grow more serious. In order to better preserve security at Thistle headquarters, the account information that a player accessed and the personal information they submitted to create that account were managed on separate computers.

“Account information” in this case referred to the information needed to play a character, which consisted mostly of the character’s name and stats. Apps downloaded from the Pony Entertainment Future Store and virtual currency information were stored within the Miraive Gear itself.

“If you had an e-mail address for receiving messages, or any credit card information saved...” she said.

“I didn’t register my address, and I had a card plugged directly into the Cocoon slot. I don’t think any of my information is on the server.” Ichiro whipped out a credit card, which drew the eyes of the other Thistle employees. It was irritatingly black and shiny.

“Which means there’s been no leaking of personal information from your account,” said President Azami.

The new security program had been created by Edogawa’s company. He had been performing a major series of modifications to match the updates and server enhancements, and if it was his actions that had led to this, it was only natural that he would be unsettled about it.

But President Azami was likely just as unsettled as he was. They had been right on the verge of the NaroFan one-year anniversary ceremony with its huge accompanying update only to have this happen. If things got worse, and it developed into a situation where user information was leaked, people could lose faith in her company. Although she was putting on a calm front, she was surely panicking inside.

“Well, Edogawa, have you learned anything?” Ichiro asked.

“Y-Yes, I think so.” Edogawa manipulated his tablet, his expression strained. “There are no signs of a direct server breach from the outside. But starting from a while back, there’s been an unexplained exchange of data with an outside party. It was mixed into overall increases in the data bus, so it didn’t stand out, but... well, it’s been quite a burden on the server.”

“A while back?” Ichiro asked.

“About a month ago.”

“Ah, the day I fought King,” Ichiro murmured, and an awkward silence fell over those present.

He was the one who had put the burden on the server. Naturally, that by itself wouldn’t make it easier to hack, but if the hacker had taken advantage of his actions to leak account information to the outside world, it meant that he still held some responsibility for what had happened.

“There were a number of these disguised information leaks to the outside taking place during times of increased data exchanges, but no traces of direct cracking at this time,” Edogawa said. “Also, I know you’ve got PII strictly locked down, so there’s no chance that any of that was leaked.”

Edogawa’s report only caused Azami’s expression to darken. If she was following his words as Ichiro was, then she was probably starting to consider a potential scenario other than an illegal hack from the outside. Ichiro found it very plausible, and believed that they should keep the possibility in mind, although he also understood why it wouldn’t be something she’d want to consider.

“You mean... someone on our staff is behind the leaks?” Azami whispered in a hushed voice.

“I’m afraid it’s possible,” Edogawa affirmed gravely.

If that was the case, Ichiro thought, then this was probably not an issue he should involve himself in too deeply. If someone in this office was intentionally disclosing his information to the outside, he’d like to file a personal complaint or two, but he knew first of all that this was a delicate problem for the company.

President Azami pressed a hand to her forehead and sank deep into thought. Whether this was cracking, or an intentional leak from within, either way it was in violation of the Unauthorized Computer Access Law. She had a responsibility to report it to the police eventually. How serious things got, though, would depend a great deal on whether the act was perpetrated from within or without.

Even if she was a genius, Azami Nono was still only 19 years old. It would likely take time for her to come to grips with the seriousness of the situation, and while he did pity her, it would be nonsense to try to console her. Running a company wasn’t like running a club with your friends in college. He was hoping she would understood that without him saying it, though.

“President Azami, would you prefer for me to take my leave?” Ichiro asked.

“Yes... if you please.”

“I’ll do so, then.” Ichiro gave a light wave to Edogawa and the others, then turned and left the office.

As long as his account was suspended and no one could log in with it, Ichiro no longer needed to worry about further damage to himself. If he changed the login password for Ichiro Tsuwabuki, even just on the way home, then he could log in at any time once he made it back.

Of course, President Azami did not have the luxury of relaxing. No matter what measures they employed, the truth remained that their account security had been severely compromised. This was a huge blow to a startup like them.

“My, if it isn’t little Ichiro. So we meet again!” A voice tore Ichiro from his thoughts. The way of speaking gave him an immediate idea of who it might be. Ichiro turned towards the person coming down the stairs, and spoke the man’s name:

“Mr. Otogiri.”

Otogiri laughed heartily. “I heard. Your account got stolen! Isn’t that awful? But I guess it’s not really you that’s in trouble, is it? It’s Thistle.”

“That is true,” said Ichiro. “It’s a do-or-die moment to see if they can maintain the people’s trust in them.”

Shinya Otogiri was the CEO of Pony Entertainment, Inc. He’d put the Miraive Gear on the market and managed the Mirai Network, and he had also had a bit of a disagreement with Ichiro’s father a long time ago. Relatively speaking, they had a bit of history together.

“We’re meeting a lot lately, aren’t we?” Ichiro added. “Are you that lacking in things to do?”

“What’s that, a challenge?”

“Nonsense. Merely a question.” Ichiro spoke with a shrug, but Otogiri just grinned.

“Well, that’s a reasonable question. But you have to admire the timing of this. If word about the unauthorized access from outside gets out, as you say, trust in Thistle will plummet. That would be a huge blow to a tiny company like this. I was thinking I could help them out, but I wonder if I should.”

“You should do what you want to,” Ichiro said. “It is not my place to comment.”

Otogiri smiled. “My, isn’t that cold of you.”

Ichiro knew what Otogiri meant by “help.” He had been scheming to get Thistle under his direct control for a long time now, so the timing of this incident was, indeed, very good for him. It would be a trifling matter for a company with the resources of Pony, Inc. to cover up a little scandal in one of their subsidiaries. If they took his protection, Thistle would be able to withstand any mudslinging thrown their way from now on. But Otogiri was on high alert about what Ichiro might do about it.

If Ichiro Tsuwabuki, the young heir to the Tsuwabuki Concern and one of the country’s most independently wealthy men, decided to do so, he could buy up the entirety of Thistle, NaroFan’s developer. With money and connections like his, he could restore trust in the failing Thistle Corporation in an instant. That would leave all of Otogiri’s plans up in smoke. The truth was that Ichiro had bitten him once already by buying up a large-scale entertainment complex he was building in Akihabara.

“Ah, well,” Otogiri said. “I know you value your position as a player, so I’m sure it’s a needless fear.”

“That’s true,” said Ichiro. “The possibility you’re afraid of is unlikely to occur.”

“Good, good. Now, let me just tell you one thing, in case you’re wondering: I was not behind this act, so don’t even bother suspecting me. I’m just loving the timing of it, that’s all.” With that, Otogiri gave a light wave, then left.

If he said he wasn’t involved, it was probably true. He wasn’t the kind of man who would go out of his way to lie. Ichiro wasn’t a fan of the man’s ambitions, but he also knew that he wasn’t a blithering idiot, and he could respect his competence as a manager.

Just then, the office door opened, and the male employee from before peeked in. “Excuse me, Mr. Tsuwabuki. We’d like to do the password reset and remove the account suspension... and recompense your items and such.”

“Mm, very well. Let’s handle that.”

Ichiro assumed that once this was done, things would be resolved for the time being. If he lingered here for long, he would probably just get in their way, he thought as he entered the office.

However, the incident was by no means at its end.

The girl stood out greatly, heaving for breath as she walked along the shinkansen platform at Tokyo Station.

It was Asuha Tsuwabuki, and she had a lot to carry.

She was dragging a suitcase in her right hand and holding a travel bag in her left. That by itself wouldn’t seem so unusual, but she was also carrying on her back one Sera Kiryu, who was still wearing the Miraive Gear headset.

“Mm...”

When she felt the burden on her back shift in wakefulness, Asuha quickly flung her friend away. “Get off!”

“Wah!” Sera shouted upon hitting the ground, then removed the Miraive Gear and looked up at Asuha. “Oh? Tsuwabuki...”

“Don’t ‘oh, Tsuwabuki’ me! We arrived in Tokyo, darn it!”

“I told you to wake me.”

“I tried, but you wouldn’t get up! Darn it! Freaking... darn it!” Asuha yelled, heedless of the gazes of those around them.

Sera had logged in on the shinkansen after learning about Ichiro’s account being hacked, but Asuha’s most fervent attempts to awaken her friend hadn’t provoked the slightest reaction. A hard reset from outside could cause loss of data due to improper shutdown, so she couldn’t do that, either. Sera had explained to Asuha that it was because “quantum information is more compressed than electronic information and therefore more fragile,” but she had no idea what that meant.

But in any case...

“So, what happened?” Asuha demanded.

“With what?” Sera asked.

“With Itchy’s account.”

“Ooh...” Sera stored the Miraive Gear back in its box, then returned it to the travel bag. “It’s been suspended.”

“Suspended?”

“The account’s frozen,” said Sera. “It means that no one can access the game using that player’s information. The hacker can’t log in using the old man’s account anymore.”

Asuha was about to nod in understanding, but then she tilted her head in confusion. “Does that mean Itchy can’t log in, either?”

“He’ll be able to after he changes his password. Normally it would take time to go through the process of verifying account information, but the old man has connections with Thistle, so he’ll probably be back in no time.”

“I see. I see.” Asuha nodded. It did sound like things were getting resolved. It had sounded pretty outrageous, but if it was all over now, then that was all that mattered. Now they could wholeheartedly enjoy the sleepover.

“Okay, let’s go to Itchy’s house!” she proclaimed.

“Where is it again?” Sera asked.

“Sangenjaya! Um, first we have to go to Otemachi by the Tokyo Metro Marunouchi Line...”

Together, they made their way off of the shinkansen platform and headed for the subway.

By the time Domon Edogawa left Thistle Corporation headquarters, it was 2:00 P.M. Things had died down for the moment, so he’d been permitted a lunch break.

He’d been in Tokyo for work for a few days now. Living life out of a business hotel really was hard, and he missed the tea plantations of his home.

Normally he’d stay at work late into the night dealing with security program settings and responses to client requests, but today, they had told him to go home early. The relief of getting to take a real break for once was in conflict with his professionalism, as he’d wanted to complete the new security immediately. At the moment, the firewall was up, and most of the account information should be secured, but he was still nervous.

If it turned out someone among the dev team was leaking information to the outside, that was going to be a serious problem. As a player as well as a contractor, he couldn’t hide his anxiety, even though he knew stewing over it wouldn’t help.

Edogawa sighed.

Tokyo was hot in summer. Shizuoka was hot, too, of course, but the heat island phenomenon made things here feel even worse.

He eventually decided to set his worries aside. All he could do was pray that Thistle Corporation would come up with a plan to deal with things as soon as possible. If pressed, he would admit that the president’s youth concerned him, but on the other hand, she seemed to be smarter than he was.

To lunch, then.

As he walked alone down the streets of Jinbocho, lined with used bookstores, he wondered where he should eat. Azami Nono had said her hobby was sampling curry restaurants. He wished he’d asked her for a recommendation.

Suddenly, a stunning blue supercar pulled out of a parking lot and blocked his path. The doors on either side twisted in a distinctive way, and a man peeked out from the driver’s seat on the left.

“Hey, wanna ride?”

What was this, a come-on? Edogawa’s expression drew taut.

Yes, unnecessary to say, this was everyone’s favorite young heir, Ichiro Tsuwabuki. His face, identical to his visage in the game, was wearing a cool smile, and he seemed to have been waiting for Edogawa.

Edogawa couldn’t be absolutely sure, but there was little room to doubt that this man was the player behind the same Ichiro Tsuwabuki who led the Iris Brand guild. The bourgeois young man in front of him was the one who had suffered the account hack today.

How can I get out of this?

Edogawa wished for a way out from the bottom of his heart, but Ichiro gave a cool smile and said:

“I think it’s destiny that we met here. And it’s nice to have off-line meet-ups. Don’t you agree, Ed?”

Edogawa’s expression grew even stiffer. “So, you knew...”

“Well, you seemed to recognize me, and I recognized your walk. So, how about it?”

Feeling that refusing the man’s invitation now would be a moral loss, Edogawa moved around to the car’s right side and prepared to climb into the car of the man he hated so much.

Left-sided steering wheel... a foreign car? He’d never seen the make before, but it seemed like it must be a very expensive vehicle.

“I’m coming in now,” he murmured.

“Mm, certainly.”

Domon Edogawa played the Machina Blacksmith, Edward, in Narrow Fantasy Online. It’s likely unnecessary at this point to describe the discord that existed between the two men, but it was the reason why Edogawa’s expression had frozen up.

After Edogawa got into the passenger seat, the supercar’s doors twisted closed. There was something futuristic about the gauges on the driver’s side that Edogawa, as a lover of robot anime and fighter planes, couldn’t help but find a little exciting.

Ichiro drove his car down the street. “On break?” he asked.

“Yes... They gave me a one-hour break for lunch.”

“I see. Then let’s go somewhere we can enjoy a light tea.”

“Light,” he said. But will it really be light? Edogawa wondered. Not physically, of course, but financially.

Edogawa looked at Ichiro once again. He’d thought that the Dragonet was using unfamiliar facial parts, and indeed, Ichiro must have created his own graphics wholesale to make sure his avatar looked just like him. Was it narcissism? Even his clothing had the same high-class atmosphere as that of his avatar.

Ichiro had always projected that vaguely unpleasant atmosphere particular to rich people, but Edogawa would never have guessed he was the heir to the Tsuwabuki Concern. Why was a man like him playing a VRMMO? Why wasn’t he helping with his father’s work? There was so much he couldn’t understand.

With no idea where they were headed, Edogawa fell into silence.

But just as the stuffy air in the car was beginning to become unbearable, surprisingly, it was Ichiro who ended up breaking the silence. “So, the name Ed comes from your real name? I’d thought it was from an anime. Cowboy Bebop?”

“You know it?”

“Sir Kirschwasser had the DVD, so I watched all the episodes. It’s a good anime.”

Ichiro was an unlikable man, but Edogawa couldn’t help but feel a thrill at hearing someone compliment an anime he liked. There were plenty of otaku in Edogawa’s office, but not many with whom he could discuss anime from the late ‘80s through the ‘90s. He quickly shook it off and chastised himself for the sentiment.

“My real name is part of it, but Radical Edward is the main inspiration.”

“Is that why you became a systems engineer?” Ichiro asked.

“I originally wanted to be a hacker, but yes.”

There was little more embarrassing than admitting you’d wanted to become a hacker because of an anime character. In the end, he had studied programming and just ended up becoming a programmer instead. Then, due to personnel shortages at his company, he had been made a systems engineer. It’d been hard, and he’d had to take a crash course in a lot of things he hadn’t understood, but eventually he’d more or less gotten used to it.

“Bossman mentioned you’d been busy lately, but I never would have thought you were doing security work for NaroFan,” commented Ichiro.

“We only got the contract a few months ago. We’ve been preparing for the big update in August.”

Edogawa/Edward was already a devoted player of NaroFan, so he’d been quite surprised when he’d heard the CEO announce the project. Of course, he’d never dreamed that he’d be put in charge of it. It had made his job feel far more fulfilling than usual, and he’d worked hard at it.

Yet after all that... no, he had to stop thinking about it. His mind would just end up going in circles.

“What do you think the Thistle Corporation will do after this?” he muttered, but Ichiro continued staring forward, his gaze cool.

“Hm, I’m not sure. Whether it’s a hack or a scandal, they’ll just have to deal with what’s happened, head-on, as a company. If it’s an internal matter, that’s quite bad, but such things are not unprecedented among developers. I don’t think it’s enough to bring down a company, particularly one so closely tied to the future of VR technology.”

It was then that he added, “But...”

“But?” Edogawa asked.

“Thistle is small, and President Azami is young. It’s possible that they could be weakened through attacks from the media, or from calls to take responsibility. And it’s possible that a larger corporation could swoop in and take advantage of that. NaroFan is a cash cow, after all.”

“Aren’t you the one providing much of their cash, Mr. Tsuwabuki?” Edogawa asked.

“Well, I am contributing, but that isn’t the way I meant it.”

Edogawa was too much of a layman for talk about how the newly-born VRMMO business model was going to change the economy in the years to come, but Ichiro still continued.

“President Azami seemed to want to use me as a player to make her case to the economic world, but that in turn shows how weak Thistle is as a business,” the heir said. “Having played the game for a little while, though, I think the potential economic gains of building fictional realities online is far greater than she realizes. I don’t think NaroFan is making full use of it, but any large corporation that becomes aware of this would want to make use of Thistle’s know-how.”

“Would the Tsuwabuki Concern be one such corporation?”

“I don’t know. I don’t help my father with his work. I earn my own money, and I play NaroFan because I enjoy it.”

So he said, but given the way he talked, Edogawa felt sure that Ichiro Tsuwabuki was a man who lived in that same economic world.

For a business of Thistle Corporation’s size, the slightest outside pressure could prove a mortal wound. In an environment of scandal, a large company could buy out all of Thistle’s stock, which would effectively bring them into that company’s holdings. This, Ichiro explained, was his concern.

“I think that President Azami must take serious measures to prevent them from showing this vulnerability,” Ichiro said.

It was a rather dicey situation. From a player’s point of view, moving Narrow Fantasy Online’s developer to a large corporation would be a good thing, if that meant a strengthening of security and a tweaking of the broken game balance for the better. NaroFan was popular due to cutting-edge virtual reality technology bringing the detailed worldsetting to life, but it still had a lot of room for fine-tuning as a game. A user might want to see someone come in and help with that.

Even so, Edogawa, inspired by the conversation to think about ways to prevent Thistle from being bought out, found these words coming to his lips:

“Couldn’t you become Thistle’s main stockholder?”

“I could. It would be easy, if I wanted to.” Ichiro was a man who could say such things so effortlessly. “If the buyout of NaroFan by a large company might cause it to lose its value as a game, then to maintain its integrity for the sake of my acquaintances and friends—and I include you among them—I would consider buying up Thistle entirely.”

As he said that, Ichiro turned the wheel. The blue Koenigsegg Agera entered the parking lot.

“But if that happened, I would likely never log in again. I’d become a developer, not a player. So I’d like to maintain my status as a customer for as long as possible. We’re here.”

“Ah, thank you...”

They had arrived at a small white building from which heavenly smells wafted.

Edogawa naturally had no intention of letting Ichiro Tsuwabuki pay a single yen for his meal, but knowing that he was a rich man, he had been steeling himself for the thought that they’d be going somewhere quite expensive. Fortunately, this really did seem like a place where they could eat a “light” lunch.

“Welcome.” As they entered the small two-story curry shop, the chef standing in the kitchen greeted them in a stately baritone.

Without hesitation, Ichiro took a seat at the counter. As the chef brought them lemon water, he said this to him: “Chef, give me two plates of your most delicious curry.”

“Yes, sir.” The swarthy chef gave a reverent bow, then withdrew to the back of the kitchen.

Watching his manner, Edogawa sat down next to Ichiro, head tilted in puzzlement. “What was with that order?”

“It’s what you have to say to get him to bring you the best curry,” Ichiro said as if it went without saying, then tilted up his glass of cold water. Even the way he drank was high-class.

“Um, I guess it’s a bit late to ask, but... was there something you needed from me?” Edogawa asked.

“No, not really,” Ichiro replied as he laid his glass on the counter. “Just think of this as a spontaneous off-line meetup. Regardless of how you feel about me, I rather like you, as I’ve told you before.”

Edogawa was fairly sure he had replied with a very clear shout of “I hate you!” back then, which meant it’d taken quite a lot of guts for Ichiro to invite him to a spontaneous off-line meetup.

Of course, he was aware that he had lost his cool in that moment, and he didn’t want to bring their online quarrels into the real world. The attitude of the man sitting beside him was almost exactly the same off-line as on, and that was surprising in itself. At the very least, the impudent things Edogawa would have said in the game withered before an actual rich person in real life.

“To continue what we were saying before...” Edogawa began. All that being the case, he’d decided he had no issue making small talk with the man. “Mr. Tsuwabuki, are you thinking about making and running your own VRMMO?”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve already made one.”

“Huh?”

Ichiro was gazing out the window. “I liked the atmosphere around the Lancastio Spiritwood Sea. I was wondering if I could create a fictional world like that. I even read President Azami’s thesis again and got in touch with a few research centers. I ended up buying a server and a supercomputer, and began poking around with making a virtual game world.”

What is this guy talking about? Edogawa was stunned into silence.

“I tried to recreate the backwoods of the Amazon, to which I’ve traveled several times. I created the graphics myself, naturally. I was so excited to have finished it, but when I connected to the Miraive Gear and tried driving around in it, I found it wasn’t very fun.”

“I-I see...”

“In the end, playing around in a world that I know inside and out is nonsense,” Ichiro said.

Edogawa wondered if that was all true. It was a lot to take in all at once. He didn’t know how large a world Ichiro was claiming to have created, but it would be impossible for a single person to recreate the Amazon backwoods down to the finest of details in virtual reality technology—and in what must have been less than a month, at that. Caught between feeling that it must be a lie, and the shock that it might be true, Edogawa lost the will to object any further.

“There’s nothing more boring than a world made to order for oneself,” said Ichiro.

“That’s an enviable problem to have...” Edogawa murmured.

Ichiro shrugged. “Is it really?”

“Yes. While this entire world might not have been made to order for you, God certainly seems to have pulled a few strings in your favor.”

“I see. You say that my problem is enviable because the world is already, to some degree, created to benefit me. I’ll meditate on that.”

Edogawa had no way of knowing that this was one of the three most laudable sentences Ichiro had ever uttered.

“Well, let’s hear your story, then,” Ichiro said. “System Ajax is a security software company, right?”

“There’s not much to say...” Edogawa said. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing they should be discussing in a curry shop. “That’s more or less it, though we’re expanding our horizons in terms of our software. The system we’re offering to Thistle right now is the latest version of the Ajax System we’ve been developing.”

“An application gateway-type firewall, was it?”

“You know your stuff. Alternative control of signals is handled by Layer 7, but the various protocol layers are assigned their own dynamic packet filters.”

The company had been named after the product, which in turn had been named after an image created by the strict protection offered by the seven protocol layers: the shield of Ajax, a hero from the Trojan War. More precisely, it had been named after a seven-layer shield in a game with that motif, combined with the firewall idea. It was the company president who had named it.

“Here you are.” The chef brought two plates of curry from the kitchen, beads of sweat clinging to his brow. It was the face of a man who had just been through a battle.

He lowered the plates, from which wafted the otherworldly aroma of spices, on the counter. The heavenly smell caused Edogawa’s empty stomach to growl in anticipation.

He picked up his curry spoon, imagining the delicious flavors to come, when suddenly, the high-pitched ring of a phone tore him out of his daydream.

Scowling, Edogawa pulled his phone from his breast pocket. An incoming call. He bowed to Ichiro in his usual way. “Sorry.”

“Feel free.”

The caller’s name was “Thistle Corporation.” With an anxious feeling in his gut, Edogawa stood up to take the call.

Martial City Delve.

It was the most recently unlocked city area in Narrow Fantasy Online, and as such, many of the game’s top players had assembled and moved their home bases there.

Even out here on the frontier, though, the broad daylight account hack was the subject on everybody’s lips. Especially since the victim was one Ichiro Tsuwabuki. No one had gone out of their way to spread the rumor, yet the information that Kirschwasser and Iris had provided had still spread like wildfire.

“So, how do you feel about the resolution?” asked Stroganoff, leader of the Red Sunset Knights.

He was addressing Matsunaga, the leader of the Dual Serpents guild. The beautiful Elf with his narrow eyes and the red-haired giant Stroganoff made quite a picture standing side by side. For once, they were also joined by Bossman of the Akihabara Forging Guild.

“There’s not much to say,” Matsunaga shrugged. “The devs suspended his account. It’s an easy fix. Not much of a climax, but it’s a good thing the devs acted fast.”

Despite his cool reply, there was a sense of dissatisfaction in his tone. For Matsunaga, who liked to scan message boards and SNS message reactions to summarize game events in the most interesting manner possible, the recent incident seemed decidedly lacking in “fun.”

“I can’t believe the kid got his account hacked, though,” the bearded dwarf whispered, looking up at the sky.

“You find that upsetting, Sakata the Stupid?” Stroganoff asked, his eyes on Bossman.

“Not especially. It’s just strange to me. I wouldn’t think he’d be the kind of guy to be so lax in his personal security. Hey, Matsunaga. You agree with me, right?”

“I think I do.”

The “conference” between the three in front of the Knights’ guild house seemed nothing more than an idle gossip meeting.

“This is unsourced information, but the story is that Thistle’s servers themselves were hacked,” said Matsunaga. “It’s an unsettling situation.”

“If that’s true, this might not be the end of it,” said Bossman.

“Yes. It’s a serious matter. If I’m not careful in my handling of the story, I could end up earning the ire of the devs.”

That seemed to be another reason for Matsunaga’s dissatisfaction. He seemed to be wishing that Ichiro Tsuwabuki’s hacked account had at least been used for something a bit more flashy. If it had, he might have found another way to spin it.

All three crossed their arms and fell deep into thought.

As it was, the account hack incident had left a few deep scars behind. The people of the VRMMO loved rumors, though, so maybe they’d move on to another subject in a few days.

“Meow-ho, everyone! Feelin’ fine?” A girl approached them, trailing a handful of players behind her and waving enthusiastically.

The foremost damsel player of NaroFan, the great Amesho, had arrived. Even among the game’s top Achievers, there were eccentrics still taken in by her, so cheers rang out along the street where she walked.

“Heyyyyyyy, Ameshoooo!”

“It’s me! Look my way, please!”

“Say ‘What can you mew,’ please!”

“Eh heh heh... what can you mew...” Amesho waved shyly to her fans, yet maintained in her posture the angles calculated to look cutest to them.

Stroganoff and the others knew that Amesho was well aware of her best points. Her avatar was perfectly calculated to have just the right height, build, and facial structure to trigger a man’s urge to protect. She was a terrifying piece of work.

But enough about Amesho; Stroganoff also knew the three players behind her.

“This is an unusual combination,” he said. “Have you formed a party?”

“Mm, something like that,” Amesho said, then turned back to the others.

They were the Anthromorph, Taker; the Human, Sorceress; and the High Elf, Tomakomai.

Taker and Sorceress were a pair of mercenaries who’d been hired by a player named Nem, who had caused a bit of trouble in the game a few days before. That incident had been resolved, and their contract as mercenaries had been terminated with satisfaction on all sides, so right now, they were simply two players enjoying NaroFan.

Tomakomai was one of the top players Matsunaga had brought into play during the last Grand Quest. He was an eccentric who made his home in the otherwise deserted Doom Range, and rarely ventured out of it. Word on the street was that he hadn’t logged out once since the game began, which further added to his air of mystery. In addition, despite his intellectual outer appearance, he had a bad habit of, when provoked, tossing aside his glasses and screeching like a bird of prey.

“I see you’re discussing the account hack incident,” Sorceress said, twirling her parasol.

“Oh, you knew about that?” Matsunaga asked.

“It’s a big game, but news travels fast. We heard it from our former leader.” Taker shrugged lightly, dressed in his new set of tattered robes.

“It’s quite troubling,” Tomakomai said. “Especially with the big update for the anniversary coming up...”

“Yes, if people decide to lay blame on the devs, and end up canceling their service...” Stroganoff responded gravely.

The mysterious gossip conference between the game’s heavy-hitters continued to increase in scale, drawing interest from the small sets of people who passed by on the road.

It was just then that a change came over the sky above Martial Town Delve.

“H-Hey, what’s that?”

The first one to notice it was one of those nameless passing players. Upon hearing the voice, the rest of them all looked up. Their eyes widened in shock.

Storm clouds had begun forming in the sky that had been blue just a little while ago. Even for a weather cycle visual, it seemed awfully sudden. Delve was close enough to the Great Sandsea that it was rare even to see clouds; rain was unheard of.

In the next instant...

A crash of thunder rang out, and a dark red lightning visual raced across the sky.

That wasn’t all. Sinister bolts of lightning began striking the ground, proving themselves tangible by stirring up great clouds of dust.

The players cried out as they saw it; the only one who remained perfectly at ease was Amesho.

“Tsuwabuki?!” Stroganoff shouted in shock, speaking for the rest of the players.

Indeed, standing before them was the tumultuous Ichiro Tsuwabuki. His account had been suspended, so why was he here? The players gulped in unison.

“What’s going on? Has his account been restored already?”

“Even so, it’s a strange way for him to appear.”

“Really? I always thought he loved a good show...”

Despite his words, something in Stroganoff’s heart denied that this could be Tsuwabuki. The way he smiled was wrong. It was not his usual smug-yet-effortless smile. It was sticky, and slimy, almost like...

“Aw, he’s smilin’ like Matsunaga,” said Sorceress.

“Hey!” Matsunaga immediately interjected. “I do not smile like that.”

“Yes, you do.”

Matsunaga seemed to take Sorceress’s casual burn deeply to heart. Having two women talking about his appearance like this must have hurt him deeply.

It really did look just like Matsunaga’s smile, though; Ichiro Tsuwabuki would never grin that way.

“So, this is the great Duplichiro, is it?” Taker snorted, then took a step forward.

No one could accuse him of acting hastily. They couldn’t be sure if it was the same player or not, but they knew that Duplichiro had been attacking people indiscriminately, and while the Martial City was a city field, there was no prohibition on combat there. If Duplichiro decided to go on a rampage here, he could... all while using his avatar’s monstrous stats, some of the highest in the game.

Stroganoff immediately opened his menu window and called for the available Knights members to join them. While he was doing that, the distance between Taker and Duplichiro gradually grew shorter.

“It’s dangerous, Taker,” Sorceress said, cautiously.

“I’ve never been afraid of dying before. I’m not afraid of dying now.”

“That statement would sound much cooler if we weren’t in a video game.”

Taker, showing no sign of being hurt by her words, finally made it up close to Duplichiro. He raised one talon-like index finger, unfurled his cape behind him, and said:

“I am Taker, and I’m gonna steal your—”

A second later, Duplichiro’s “Dragon Claw” had found its way into Taker’s guts. His newly created rags, which he had only just acquired after losing his old ones to the death penalty days ago, drifted to the ground. Taker had turned into golden particles of light and disappeared.

He was dead.

“What’s wrong with that man...” Stroganoff whispered, and the other members offered up their thoughts.

“Attacking someone in the middle of their catchphrase... such cruelty.”

“He’s a disgrace to villains everywhere.”

“Aw, I hope Taker’s okay...”

“That’s true. He gets depressed so easily...”

“Well, I suppose I’ll go avenge him,” Tomakomai said calmly, removed his glasses, then cast them aside.

Their impact against the ground seemed to be the trigger; before anyone could stop him, Tomakomai propelled himself forward.

“Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” he shouted, like a bird of prey, then leaped into the air and fell upon Duplichiro.

Duplichiro didn’t even budge, but just blocked the attack with Weapon Guard.

“Raaaaaaaagh! Hagh! Hagh! Hngaaaaah!” Tomakomai’s arms and legs lashed out like whips, battering Duplichiro from head to toe. But Duplichiro deflected each with Weapon Guard, as if he could see the moves coming. He then formed a fist and lashed out, striking straight into the solar plexus of the rampaging Tomakomai.

“Graaaaaaaaaagh!” With a death rattle that was far from logical, the legendary man who had never logged out since the game began fell silent. He hit the wall of the Knights’ guild house, turned into particles of light, and disappeared.

“H-He’s weak...” Stroganoff cried.

“No, his opponent is simply too strong,” Matsunaga replied calmly. “First, let’s lock him down. Stroganoff, will you have your men rallied soon?”

“Y-Yeah...”

“Then I’ll be counting on you after this.” Matsunaga snapped his fingers, and the ground of the main street burst up in clouds of dust. Shadows danced into the air, arms spread, each holding short swords in one hand and clad in flower-patterned shinobi gear and horned noh masks.

The watchers cried out:

“The Dual Serpents’ Frilly Shinobi Army!”

“They really do exist!”

Most players already knew about the existence of the Shinobi Army, of course, but it was customary for someone to say those lines whenever they appeared. The frilly ninja gear had been designed by Nem, who, despite being a famous designer, didn’t seem to know much about ninja fashion.

The Shinobi Army swarmed the grinning Duplichiro, but this was not the only combat force Matsunaga had prepared. Another snap of his fingers caused men to appear on the rooftops around them, as well. These too were the elite forces of the Dual Serpents: the Bowgun Corps.

“He’s not very good at dodging,” Matsunaga called. “And he can’t block this many ranged attacks with Weapon Guard, either!”

“Matsunaga, that’s a flag,” Amesho whispered, but her warning was drowned out by the hail of fire from the Bowgun Corps.

The hail of fire consisted a wide variety of ranged Arts, and kicked up dust clouds in the parched earth that masked Duplichiro’s form.

“I think they did it!” Stroganoff shouted.

“Don’t say that!” Matsunaga shouted back.

The billowing clouds of sand began to clear, revealing the unharmed avatar of Ichiro Tsuwabuki behind them.

That was actually predictable enough. The group was shocked for another reason:

Over the unharmed avatar hovered the label: “Immortal.”