4 - Noble Son, Go to America

“M-Miss Sakurako! Your driving...” Asuha stammered.

“Don’t talk, or you’ll bite your tongue!” she snapped back.

A Lincoln was speeding down the highway around sunset. In the driver’s seat sat a maid, and in the back seat sat two middle school students. If you added in the fact that they were heading towards Narita Airport, things just became all the more incomprehensible. But despite its incomprehensibility, there was a perfectly logical explanation behind it.

It had begun with phone call from Ichiro Tsuwabuki.

He had called during the early afternoon, while Sera was still logged in to the game. He had said he was going to America.

Apparently Ichiro had determined that the source of the account hack was coming from there. As a mere user, he could not get involved in the Thistle Corporation’s countermeasures, and it was best that he stay out of them, too. But as an individual, he was free to confront a person responsible for wronging him. It was a truly Ichiro conclusion.

America, of course, was on the other side of the globe.

A round trip would take a full day, and considering how long they had planned to stay over, he hadn’t been sure if he’d get back while Asuha and Sera were still in Tokyo. That was why he had asked her to apologize for him.

Asuha and Sera, though, could not accept this. Sera, especially, had come here just to meet Ichiro, and the young gamer’s dissatisfaction at the thought of not getting to meet him shocked both Sakurako and Asuha.

“What about coming to eat my curry?” Sakurako had asked, to which Sera replied (while looking at the plate of chicken tikka masala), “It’s extremely good, but not enough to make it worthwhile.”

They had both insisted that they should get to go to America with Ichiro.

Of course, that was ridiculous, Sakurako thought. They couldn’t leave the country without a passport. But when she brought that up, they immediately went fishing through their bags.

“My family was planning to go to Italy to see Dad after this trip.”

“I always have mine in case Itchy wants to do something crazy!”

It seemed they were extremely well-prepared young people.

Which meant the only other things they needed were Ichiro’s permission and that of the parents. She assumed that Ichiro would probably agree readily enough, and when she called him, that was exactly what happened. He had also asked her to come to Narita with them so that he could give her something.

Asuha’s parents and Sera’s mother had both given their ready assent, as well.

And so, Sakurako ferried them to Narita Airport. Ichiro said he’d bought three first-class seats, so Sakurako could no longer object.

“We’re almost to Narita!” Asuha exclaimed.

“You drive fast, miss,” Sera commented.

“When I was in junior college, I often raced down mountain highways.” Sakurako drove the car into the parking lot and screeched it to a stop.

Asuha’s head hit the glass with a bang.

They took off their seatbelts and got out. The doors slammed closed as they charged their way into Narita Airport. Among the people bustling about, they were able to find the cool-as-a-cucumber Ichiro immediately. He had no luggage, naturally. He was the kind of man to buy whatever he needed at his destination.

“Ichiro-sama!”

“Itchy!”

As they ran up to him, Ichiro held up a hand and responded in his usual way. “Hey there, Sakurako-san, Asuha, and...” Ichiro’s gaze moved to the person behind them, a shifty-eyed child carrying a travel bag. “Hello, King.”

“Hey.”

Sakurako gulped.

Ichiro and Sera Kiryu faced each other. They both knew what the other looked like, and they’d spoken many times in the game, but this was their first time meeting in person. Sakurako couldn’t imagine what they might say to each other after everything they’d been through. She watched the two stare at each other and waited for their next actions.

But nothing else came.

Sakurako’s surprise was interrupted by Ichiro addressing her. “Well, I’ll take the two of them into my custody now. I believe we’ll be back tomorrow night at the earliest, but I can’t be certain.”

“Ah, um, er, yes.” Sakurako nodded fervently.

“Where are we going, old man?” Sera asked.

“Pittsburgh. There’s no direct flight, so we’re going through Chicago. I’ll explain in more detail later.”

“Itchy! What about Seattle? Are we going to Seattle?” Asuha asked.

“No. We’re not going to New York or Miami, either.”

“Aw...” Asuha had likely wanted to visit cities whose baseball teams had players she rooted for, and she pouted openly when told she couldn’t. It seemed even a self-proclaimed Dragons fangirl like herself was eager to see a Major League game.

As Ichiro now turned back to Sakurako, she remembered that he had said he wanted to give her something. Sakurako returned her face to its servant’s calm and straightened up a bit.

“I introduced Shaga to Thistle,” said Ichiro. “I think with him around, they should be able to work things out, and depending on how hard they work, I expect things to calm down within two or three days. I’ll be taking action, as well, which means we may settle things as early as tomorrow. Therefore...” As he spoke, Ichiro put his hand into his inner jacket pocket and produced a card from it.

Sakurako gasped.

He offered it to her.

“Sakurako-san, I want you to keep my avatar in check until then. This will cover any costs you may have.”

“Huh? B-But this is...” She took it reflexively, but couldn’t hide her hesitance. The cool card felt pleasant on her fingertips.

Ichiro smiled brightly. “No need to be reticent. Do as you wish with it.”

It was easier said than done.

Sakurako had several credit cards Ichiro had given her for work, to purchase cooking ingredients, cleaning products, utensils, and such. They were all black cards. Sakurako had an excellent sense of balance, and she had managed to hang on to her middle-class common sense, but she had never expected to be handed a card as rare as this.

“Hey, Kiryu. What’s that?” Asuha asked.

“Dunno. It looks like a credit card, but I didn’t know they made them out of silver.”

Silver? Outrageous. This was palladium.

Cards made of palladium were a status symbol for the absolute wealthiest people in the world. They belonged only to those who had accounts with JP Morgan’s private bank.

Was Ichiro asking her, of all things...

Was he asking her to use that for the game?

“On my own discretion, I contacted Thistle’s payment agency, and it should be about twenty-four hours before they shut down the game’s microtransactions system,” said Ichiro. “There are ways to halt the modules in the server itself, too, and that might make it even faster. Until then, you can use it as much as you like.”

In this moment, Sakurako was truly being entrusted with the power of Ichiro Tsuwabuki’s money.

Processing the weight of it anew, she took in a deep breath, tucked the palladium card safely away, then faced her master Ichiro and bowed reverently.

“Thank you, sir.”

It was evening.

Edogawa had been prepared to pull an all-nighter from the start, and he wasn’t going to complain given everything else going on. Still, when he thought about the work that lay ahead of him, he couldn’t help but feel a deep and abiding depression. He looked around and noticed that the others in the office must have felt the same way; they looked like walking corpses.

Edogawa’s mood grew even darker as he gazed at the empty bottles littering his desk. The more energy drinks he drank, the more he was beginning to think they were completely useless. If they were supposed to provide a placebo effect, it was backfiring. Perhaps attempting to force the human body past its limits was a fool’s errand from the start; it was just too fragile for this sort of thing.

Deciding to get some fresh air, he staggered to his feet, left the office, and descended the stairs.

He had a lot of tasks to see to. He was being asked to check all the server logs and scrutinize any data that seemed to suggest an attack. Then on top of that, as an outsider, he was supposed to check for signs of data being illegally leaked from inside company computers. Meanwhile, Thistle’s engineers were out in full force, trying to take back their servers and purge suspicious data. The office had become a total battlefield.

It was in the middle of this bloodbath that the lawyer Ichiro Tsuwabuki had recommended had arrived. He seemed like an unsavory sort, dressed in an Armani suit that seemed wrinkled and worn out, and he was tall and gangly, with shaggy hair. His name was Shunsaku Shaga, and he bore a passing resemblance to a famous late actor.

First, the lawyer had consulted with Azami on how the company should proceed. In reality, everyone present had just wanted to fix the problem and find the cause as soon as possible, but they’d known that screaming like children wouldn’t make that any more possible.

The lawyer had advised them to avoid making any announcements until they had fully grasped the situation, while asserting that they had to make a statement within 24 hours to reassure people that they were on the case. In other words, they had one day’s time to make some kind of progress.

Edogawa found it all extremely unreasonable, but if this was his client’s decision, he had no choice but to go along with it. He sent a plea to the president of System Ajax asking him to send help as soon as possible, and was told they’d send support first thing in the morning.

The working hours to salary ratio at Edogawa’s company suggested an exploitation of their employees, but at times like these, he was grateful for the president’s attitude.

If they held a press conference too soon, they wouldn’t be able to deal with reporters’ follow-ups, so he could understand why they shouldn’t make an announcement until they had answers to give to the expected questions. He really wasn’t fond of it, to be honest, but he had checked every file in every computer of every worker within the company. (He’d found a lot of unpleasant files there, but he’d managed to ignore those.) And while he felt he was being as diligent as one could be, he still hadn’t found any traces of a data leak.

If he absolutely couldn’t find anything, the lawyer had advised him to fudge the truth to find a way to ride it out. Tsuwabuki had said the man had an awful personality, and maybe this was what he meant—he really had a lot of nerve. As if to punctuate that assertion, the lawyer was apparently snoring away in the break room at this very moment.

The problem was the checking of the server logs. The Thistle Corporation itself was a small business, but they oversaw server machines in numbers sufficient to run a much larger company’s online network. There was no way Edogawa could check all of them in just 24 hours by himself; his performance was going to be in the pits after an all-nighter as it was. All he could do was wait for his boss’s reinforcements and hope.

How had things come to this?

Edogawa walked outside, squinting in the sunlight, which was still intense despite the late hour. He knew that thinking about it wasn’t getting him anywhere. He was furiously angry, and it frustrated him to have nowhere to direct that anger.

Edogawa walked a little ways to a DyDo Drinco vending machine and put a few coins into it. Of course, there were drink vending machines inside the office building, but Edogawa had always been partial to the DyDo brand. He’d been especially fond of their Yubari Melon Milk lately, although it came in very small cans.

He inserted 130 yen, then pressed the button. The steel can descended with a clang. The cool feel of it soothed his frayed nerves. Just as he was pulling the tab, the vending machine spoke to him: “Lucky you! You win the jackpot! Have another!”

Wow, he thought. Did people actually hit the vending machine lottery from time to time? He decided to choose another, wondering why it’d had to happen on today of all days. He picked a Sarashibo Orange, which he hadn’t had in a while, but had been a reliable friend back in his high school arcade-trawler days.

He reflected on all the things he’d been experiencing for the first time lately, despite living what he’d thought had been a fairly long life. He chugged his melon milk, then headed back to the Thistle company building, pressing the long 500 ml “Freshly-Squeezed Orange Juice” can against his forehead. He couldn’t tell if he was lucky or unlucky to have hit the vending machine jackpot in these decidedly unlucky circumstances. If it was a word of encouragement from God for him to keep up the good work, it was an awfully bittersweet one. But what Edogawa was most angry at was himself, for feeling slightly happy about this irritating, bittersweet experience.

After returning home, Sakurako ran through her housework. She cleaned up the dishes, tidied up the kitchen, and checked the expiration dates on the products in the refrigerator and on the shelves. Usually she would only use the shower attached to her room, but when Ichiro was out of the house, she secretly used his bathroom. Ichiro had given her permission to use it, so she didn’t actually have to do it secretly. But to maintain a measure of shame and delineation between master and servant, she always insisted, “I would never use my master’s bathroom.” Of course, this was all lip service.

The walls of the Tsuwabuki master bathroom were lined with Japanese cypress. Sakurako found it extremely annoying to clean, but she did appreciate the luxury hotel atmosphere it provided her whenever she entered. It was an indulgent space, with multiple bathtubs, including a cold water bath and a Jacuzzi. It had large, liberating windows, owing to the fact that it was the tallest building in the area, and you could even go outside—which she found quite unsettling, personally. And naturally, there was a sauna, as well.

Sakurako Ogi. Despite her classy name and profession, she had been born middle class.

As she gazed at the water droplets clinging to the window glass, she was reminded anew of just how wealthy Ichiro was. She had always known it, rationally, and having seen his freewheeling spending and the way he decorated his house, it was perhaps true that she should need no further reminders of it.

Still, experiencing his way of life for herself made it feel completely different. When she stepped into the bath, she was overwhelmed by the feeling that she didn’t belong here at all... She’d thought that she was used to using the credit cards Ichiro gave her (for house expenses) when shopping, but the palladium card he’d given her at the airport had shaken her. He’d told her to use it as she saw fit, and so he probably wouldn’t get mad at her, no matter how she used it.

Still, the palladium card... She’d heard it had no spending limit.

Sakurako couldn’t even imagine how she’d ever reach the spending limit even on the black cards Ichiro had given her, but when he’d handed her that card of silver, it was as if he was telling her:

“Hold nothing back, and show no mercy.”

He had been telling her to stop his avatar’s rampage.

I’m afraid that’s not possible, Ichiro-sama, she thought. What am I supposed to do? I don’t know how to spend large quantities of money. As a servant, I want to live up to your faith in me, but you’ve never given me such an ambiguous order before...

She decided, at least, to get out of the bath. She couldn’t bring herself to use the sauna now. She wiped herself off, put on her underwear, and changed into her pajamas. She dried her hair with the hair dryer, but skipped a reapplication of makeup—with her master gone, there was no need for that, at least.

What should she do now, she wondered. After checking for incoming calls on her cell phone, she found a message from Iris, whom she’d friended in the game. Apparently Matsunaga wanted to invite her to a conference they were having a bit after 9:00 P.M.

Sakurako had no other plans, so she decided to log in for now. In the end, it was the same thing she’d usually be doing.

She moved into the game room, activated the Cocoon, and sat down in the seat. In one hand, she held the palladium card. It felt a bit ridiculous to even bring it into the game with her, but she fed it into the slot, which devoured it willingly.

The head-mounted gear descended. Electric and quantum signals cut Sakurako’s consciousness off from the real world.

How many times had she gone into the drive now?

It was one year ago that Sakurako had bought a Miraive Gear X and the Standard Pack version of Narrow Fantasy Online. It hadn’t been as rare as the Premium Pack, but there still hadn’t been a lot of units in the first printing. She’d had to line up at an Akihabara game shop all night, and she had even been interviewed by a variety show. The fact that she’d managed to get ahold of a copy had been no more than a combination of coincidence and good fortune.

Since then, she’d played almost every day. Compared to other players who had started at the same time, Kirschwasser’s development had been slow. But Sakurako had, through regular grinding and hard work, managed to maintain her position at the high end of the mid-level players.

Sakurako’s consciousness was now inside the virtual reality. She felt a definite change in her height and her viewpoint, as well as the mass of her body... but perhaps it was natural that changing one’s sex and body type completely would feel a bit odd.

In this world, she was the brawny silver-haired Knight, Sir Kirschwasser. There were players like Iris and Kirihito (Leader) who never questioned that identity, as well as those like King and Matsunaga who immediately saw through it. It was fun to be able to change who you were.

There had been a time in Sakurako’s life when she’d been devoted to cosplay. It was part of why she loved her job as a live-in maid, but getting to play a radically different person in Kirschwasser was something she could only do in this fictional reality. She put effort into her roleplay, too.

When Kirschwasser awoke, he was on Glasgobara’s main street. He immediately called his horse, Oukaou, and headed for Martial City Delve.

“Kirschwasser.”

He heard a voice addressing him. He turned back to see a muscular Anthromorph standing there.

“My, if it isn’t Sir Taker,” Kirschwasser said. “How unusual to see you.”

Kirschwasser had once fought Taker to protect Iris Brand, but now that was all behind him, and they were just fellow players. There was no enmity whatsoever in his voice.

Taker let out a chuckle, and said, with the shifty eyes of a dead man walking, “You should call me Trash right now.”

Kirschwasser wondered what had happened.

Actually, he had heard from Nem and Amesho that the man was a rather sensitive type. Any little thing that went wrong would set him to sulking, and he’d ask people to start calling him Trash. Rather the high-maintenance type, Kirschwasser thought.

After a moment, he noticed that “Trash” wasn’t wearing his usual tattered robe. He must have lost it after losing the battle to Duplichiro, which would also explain his total lack of energy.

“I heard what’s going down,” Trash said sourly. “Sounds like it’ll be pretty tough.”

“I’m afraid I’m not the only one it will be hard on,” Kirschwasser said.

Duplichiro’s violence had plunged the game into chaos. Kirschwasser couldn’t allow it to continue. If they waited on the devs, the devs would probably clear it up eventually, but Ichiro had entrusted him with the duty to keep him contained until then.

“What will you do now, Sir Trash?” Kirschwasser asked.

“Heading for Delve, I guess. Nothing else to do, anyway.”

“In the middle of a weekday?”

“My work situation is a little unique...”

He was self-employed, perhaps. From the way he spoke, he sounded like he’d had a hard life. Kirschwasser wondered if he was a mercenary in real life, too.

“The witch told me a bunch of players have gotten together already,” said Trash.

“For the planning conference?” Kirschwasser asked.

“Matsunaga set it all up. He’s really good at making events out of these things.”

That was true. Matsunaga had a hand in everything that went on in the game, from the Grand Quest where Ichiro and King had fought, to the series of incidents that had led to the grudge match between Nem and Iris. He didn’t do it out of a desire to ruin anyone or make them unhappy. He just wanted to make the stories more exciting. Of course, it also let him write interesting articles for his blog, get more hits, and collect more money from his affiliates, but that probably wasn’t the only reason.

Deep down, Matsunaga just liked being the one to arrange exciting events. He was a born producer.

It brought Sakurako back to the days when she’d toured arcade events around the country with her two older brothers. In an arcade in one region, she’d met a female gamer who had said similar things. She’d been a born producer, as well.

“Of course, I’m sure the devs find it quite annoying,” Kirschwasser said.

“I think it’s fine,” said Trash. “We’re enjoying ourselves again.”

Kirschwasser nodded. Yes, thanks to Matsunaga, a lot of players were enjoying the game again. Given that an unknown hacker had taken control of the devs’ system, it was probably a relief to them.

“Who do you think Master Duplichiro really is?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” Trash folded his arms and shook his head. “I’ve met some pretty shifty types in my time. He was similar to them in some ways.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, the way he stole power that’s not his and now he seems so self-satisfied with it. I’ve met guys I can sympathize with on that level and guys that I can’t, but there’s something weirdly childlike about this guy.”

Kirschwasser was surprised to hear the world “childlike” appear in his analysis. It was true that cheating, acquiring overwhelming power, and then using it to beat down on others was something that children might do. But that couldn’t possibly mean he was a literal child. Duplichiro’s actions were taking place on a scale that that alone wouldn’t explain.

Kirschwasser expressed his doubts, and Trash nodded once again. “Yeah, what’s weird if we assume he’s a child is that there also wasn’t much ‘play’ in what he did. He was direct and efficient, but he also didn’t seem very accustomed to the game.”

“It’s a difficult puzzle, isn’t it?” Kirschwasser asked.

“Yeah,” Trash sighed again, suggesting he really didn’t have any idea at all.

Air travel was boring. Even in first class, which did everything it could to see to the comfort of their customers, that remained true. Ichiro simply didn’t like the idea of passively sitting in a seat, waiting until they reached their destination. They hadn’t even taken off yet, but when he thought about the ten-or-more-hour flight that awaited them, Ichiro couldn’t help but feel a bit bored.

On the other side of the spectrum, the two children he had brought along were shouting in excitement.

“This is my first time in first class!” Sera cried.

“I’ve only been once before!” Asuha boasted in response.

Ichiro had given her a trip to Dubai as a present for her tenth birthday. On that flight, first-class seats had effectively been their own little cabins, and she’d passed the evening in luxury, not having to care about anyone else around her. But that was a service offered by only a few companies like Emirates Airlines.

“Mr. Tsuwabuki, we have wine and champagne,” a flight attendant offered.

“Mm, no thank you,” Ichiro bluntly said, then sat down. “Asuha, King, what about you? Do you have any soft drinks?”

“Certainly. Apple juice, ginger ale, black tea, cold milk...”

Ichiro cast a glance at the seat next to him. Sera was completely absorbed in a portable game system.

The gamer only noticed the question after a minute, looked up, and answered, “No thanks.”

“Oh, um, I’ll have ginger ale,” Asuha said.

“Yes, ma’am.” The attendant bowed to Asuha, who was sitting in the row in front of them.

There would still be a bit of time before they took off. Sera, eyes still focused on the game system, addressed Ichiro. “Old man.”

“Hm?”

“Tell me more about what’s going on.”

“Ah.”

With hands deftly manipulating the controls of a complex 3D action game, Sera’s attention was somehow still fully focused on Ichiro. Asuha, from the row in front, was also focused on him.

Ichiro put a hand to his chin thoughtfully. He took a moment to think about where to start, but eventually decided to just tell them everything.

He started with the inciting incident, then described his trip to Thistle to confirm. He didn’t mention that the security company employee he’d run into was Ed, but he did talk about the possibility of information being leaked from inside the company. He talked about the strange transmission of data that had taken place when he’d overwhelmed the databus during his fight with King, and about the signs that Ichiro’s account itself had been accessed from America.

“Why Pittsburgh, though?” Sera asked.

“I just happened to notice that the IP address was that of a lab where a friend of mine works,” Ichiro answered simply. “He runs a robotics engineering lab in Pittsburgh. He’s an interesting person. Currently hard at work developing a robot maid.”

“Can people tell that stuff just from seeing the IP address?”

“Some people can, such as myself.”

A few years ago, the spread of quantum communications technologies had caused the world’s IP address format to upgrade from the original IPv4 to IPv6. It had caused quite a bit of confusion, but it had solved the IP address insufficiency problems that had existed for a while leading up to it.

“Um, so, is this interesting friend of yours the one behind it, Itchy?” Asuha asked.

“It would speed things up if it were, but I don’t believe so.”

“But they’re accessing the server from his lab, right?”

“Yes, that is true...” But Ichiro had his eye on a different suspect. “She” was currently accessing it from Pittsburgh, and the researchers there probably hadn’t even realized she was there.

He didn’t know why that laboratory had been chosen. She’d probably known that accessing the server from overseas would slow them down, and that she would need enormous server machines and supercomputers to do what she wanted to do. She had probably had a list of candidates, and then just chosen that robot engineering company from it by coincidence.

“There are quite a few anime movies that Sakurako-san sees every summer,” Ichiro said.

“Yeah?”

“It’s like that.”

“I see.” Sera nodded, as if in perfect understanding.

“Huh? What? What do you mean?” Asuha seemed confused.

“Asuha, we’re about to take off,” Sera said. “You should fasten your seatbelt.”

“Um, right...” Grumpily, Asuha slid back into her seat and did as she was told.

“There will be a difference in time zones, so you should probably get some sleep now, while you can. Though I’m sure it will be difficult to sleep.” As he spoke, Ichiro reclined his chair all the way. The generous space allowed in first class allowed him to recline to a full 180 degrees.

“I’m not really sleepy, though...” Asuha muttered from the row ahead.

After playing for a while on the portable device, Sera finally closed it, then reclined as well.

Despite his claims that it would be hard, Ichiro began making the noises of sleep just a few minutes later, around the same time the flight attendant was announcing their takeoff. Was this a part of his genius, or simple impudence? Even as the plane jostled down the runway for takeoff, he showed no signs of awakening, so maybe it was the latter.

Inside the Red Sunset Knights’ guild house, Tiramisu met them with a smile.

“Welcome, Sir Kirschwasser. Mr. Taker.”

The customization of guild houses in Narrow Fantasy Online, both inside and out, was quite flexible. Players could buy furniture items from NPCs, and while most of them were just window dressing with no real function behind them, the ones that suggested an impossibly luxurious lifestyle were still very popular. This held true in the Knights’ guild house, as well: Red carpet lined the hallways, with paintings hanging on the walls and chandeliers dangling from the ceilings.

As someone who was always logging on to the game from an actual rich person’s house, Sakurako-as-Kirschwasser smelled a whiff of nouveau riche about it. But Sakurako herself had been born into the middle class, so it didn’t bother her all that much. She didn’t know anything about how most rich people lived their lives, anyway, and she knew that using Ichiro Tsuwabuki as any kind of standard for “normal” could get her into trouble.

“Lady Tiramisu, how have you been?” Kirschwasser asked in concern. He’d heard about what had happened from Iris.

“Ah, no need to worry,” she said. “It was a bit frightening, but I’m not the sort of person to dwell on such things once they’ve passed.”

Tiramisu had been beaten down by Duplichiro just a few hours earlier. Either due to a bug or intentionally, the “Nullify Sensation” function wouldn’t activate during fights in Delve, which meant one-sided violence like that could be slightly traumatic even to top-level players. But at least she seemed to be all right.

As an inevitable trait of virtual reality, Kirschwasser found fights between players much more nerve-wracking here than in standard MMOs. And while a fight by itself was one thing, the prospect of an ambush in the field, without the consent of both players, would be all the more terrifying.

On top of that, in terms of raw combat data, the stats of Ichiro Tsuwabuki’s avatar were cream-of-the-crop. If Duplichiro appeared in a field traversed mainly by mid-level players and began indiscriminately attacking them, that would be a severe violation of game etiquette. Just as when he had attacked Iris, and when he had started attacking those on the mountain road outside of Glasgobara, it was an action that would disgrace Ichiro’s name.

Yes, that was one thing Kirschwasser could not ignore. As a loyal retainer, but also as Sakurako Ogi, it could not be forgiven. She was fuming. While walking along the carpet, Kirschwasser’s hands balled into fists, causing a faint creak to sound out from his Full Plate Mail gauntlets.

Tiramisu guided them to one of their many rooms, a large room with a lavish interior. There was a round table at the center, the floor was covered in red carpet, and there was a hearth flanked by large hanging banners that displayed the Knights’ crest. It had atmosphere. It really felt like the Knights’ conference room.

“Hey, Mr. Kirsch!” Iris, already in her seat, waved, while Nem, sitting beside her, bowed her head to him.

Teacups and sweets sat on top of the round table.

“I have returned,” said Kirschwasser. “Iris, Lady Nem, have you eaten dinner already?”

“I have!”

“A light one, at least.”

That was good. In virtual reality, where the triggering of senses could be enough to make you feel full, it was easy to forget to perform physiologically necessary functions like eating and excreting. There were alert messages for things like that, but especially lately, the game’s food and drink had a tremendous ability to make you feel satisfied.

Even before VRMMOs came along, people had died because they had gotten too involved in a game. Obsession could be a dangerous thing.

Also sitting beside Iris was another friend of hers, Yuri. She was drinking her tea with a composed expression, but then she startled as if she’d noticed something. Kirschwasser looked around, but only Taker was standing behind him.

Three already seated top players greeted them, as well.

“Hello, there,” said Matsunaga.

“Hiya!” cried Amesho.

“Good to see you,” Tomakomai intoned.

Sorceress was also there, twirling her parasol, despite being indoors. “Oh, Taker. Come back, have you?”

“Shut up.” Taker slumped into his seat as the witch offered up her usual snark.

The Knights’ commanders were already all seated. Even Stroganoff, who’d said he had a group reservation that afternoon, was there. The fact that Gazpacho, who apparently also worked at his restaurant, hadn’t logged in suggested that it must still be a madhouse there.

“Where are the Kirihitters?” Kirschwasser asked, sitting down.

“They left,” said Tiramisu.

She offered him tea. She didn’t have the “Tea Ceremony” Skill, but it was still a rare and treasured experience for him to get to drink tea made by someone else in NaroFan, so he accepted it with gratitude.

Tiramisu sat down and said, “I suppose this is everyone.” It was certainly a distinguished assortment of people. The question was what they could possibly do about the situation.

“Sir Kirschwasser, has Mr. Tsuwabuki told you anything about this incident?” Matsunaga asked to broach the discussion.

Sakurako had switched her mindset fully over to Kirschwasser’s. “He has, but it involved matters internal to the game’s development team, so I’m afraid I cannot repeat it here. It does seem to be quite a serious matter, though.”

“I suppose that stands to reason. The hacker’s using GM privileges, after all. If the media decides to raise a stink about it, the whole service could end up shut down.” Smiling his trademark smile with his beautiful elven features, Matsunaga brought his teacup to his mouth.

“So what’re you gonna do, Matsunaga?” Amesho asked while messing with friend messages in her menu window. The mannerism was akin to someone playing with her cell phone; she was probably chatting with people about things completely unrelated to the conversation while she talked.

“Catch Duplichiro, of course,” said Matsunaga. “Well, catching him won’t be possible either legally or physically, I suppose... but still, we obviously can’t just leave him at large.”

“And why do you really wanna do that?” she asked.

“Because it sounds fun. And perhaps it will let me put out a blog entry to coincide with the devs’ announcement.”

Well, that much was predictable enough. No one would really have expected Matsunaga to start playing detective out of a sense of righteousness.

He was just a naturally curious person, perhaps. He wouldn’t be on the vanguard of unlocking all the game’s secrets if he weren’t. He also seemed to have a bit of a natural journalist in him, given how he enjoyed revealing the intelligence he’d gathered, and his perfect control in disseminating that information made him the model affiliate blogger.

“But how are we going to catch him?” Iris asked. “We don’t even know where he is... well, actually, I guess we do.”

Iris opened her menu window, and Kirschwasser did the same. Checking the guild member tab, Kirschwasser could see the name Ichiro Tsuwabuki on the list along with both of theirs.

He was still logged in. His location was tagged as deep within the Volgund Volcanoes, an area only high-level players could enter. The “Fighting” icon was blinking. From the color of the icon, it was clear he was fighting a mob, not a player.

“He must be visiting the Lizardman Dojo,” Matsunaga said. “Perhaps we should seal it off so that other players won’t go there accidentally.”

“Isn’t blocking players off against game etiquette?” asked Kirschwasser.

“It should be fine. GMs aren’t responding to the GM call anyway,” Matsunaga said airily, then sent a message to the members of his guild.

VRMMOs naturally strove for realism as much as possible, which meant that avatars couldn’t pass through each other. As a result, it was possible to create physical barriers to impede the progress of other players. Of course, it was against etiquette to do this for any reason.

He was clearly thinking that, in order to keep players away from Duplichiro, the best thing to do would be to pack the narrow mountain roads of the Volcanoes with the Dual Serpents’ Bowgun Corps and silently intimidate players off of going there. It was impressive how he enthusiastically adopted the villain role, every single time.

“I could put out a warning message on my blog, but if not worded carefully, it might just end up inviting rubberneckers,” said Matsunaga.

Kirschwasser nodded. “Yes, I agree.”

“Now, the fact that we’re all here indicates a mutual desire to stop Duplichiro, whether out of curiosity or righteous indignation. I intend to proceed with that in mind...” As usual, Matsunaga was a man who liked to run the conversation, and now, he was ready to move it forward.

Naturally, annoyed at the thought of his guild house being reduced to a mere venue, Stroganoff interrupted. “Hold on, Matsunaga.”

Matsunaga, in the manner of one humoring a long-time friend, just shrugged and fell silent.

Stroganoff cleared his throat, then stood up. “First, Matsunaga’s right about everything so far. We have to stop Duplichiro. Some like Matsunaga want to stop him because it’s fun, while others like Sir Kirschwasser and Iris want to stop him for personal reasons.”

“Me, too! I do, too! I cannot allow him to continue this outrage using Ichiro’s face!” Nem shouted.

“Oh, right, Nem, too...”

The only exception seemed to be Yuri, who was mainly there to help Iris. Yuri was also close with Felicia, so perhaps she was also acting as a proxy in her absence. She spoke rarely, and Kirschwasser hadn’t exchanged many words with her, but he thought she seemed a conscientious girl.

“By the way, why are you participating, Stroganoff?” Amesho asked while flitting through her messages.

“Well, you know... it’s exciting,” he said. “It feels a bit like defeating a secret boss.” His answer was just what one would expect from the leader of a top Achiever guild. “What about you, Amesho?”

“Me? ’Cause it sounds fun. Why else would I do it?”

That also seemed only natural; just what one would expect from the game’s foremost damsel player.

Taker, Sorceress, and Tomakomai offered similar answers. It was hard to tell exactly what they were thinking, but they didn’t seem like bad people. They just wanted to take part in a little bit of fun.

“Anyway, let’s move on.” Stroganoff took control of the conversation again. “Regarding Duplichiro’s combat abilities. I don’t think I need to explain the threat he poses by virtue of using Tsuwabuki’s avatar, but we have two points in our favor.”

The crowd let out a noise of interest.

“The first is that King’s actions nullified his use of GM privilege, including ‘Immortal’ status. The second is that he can’t use that man’s ultimate trump card, the microtransactions.”

“Are you so sure about that?” Matsunaga asked skeptically. “If Duplichiro’s intention is to imitate Mr. Tsuwabuki, I’d think he would use them.”

“But how?” Stroganoff asked. “Is he going to pay for things himself? He’ll run into hard limits.”

“You just don’t get it, Stroganoff.” Matsunaga clicked his tongue and wagged his finger. “He still has his GM privileges. The reason he stopped using ‘Immortal’ and other status-booster cheats is because he realized that that was not what Mr. Tsuwabuki would do. Calling up infinite microtransactions is something he would do, though, so he’ll do the same, without hesitation.”

“I agree,” Tomakomai nodded quietly. “We should first form a hypothesis about Duplichiro’s goals and identity. That will help us to speculate about what actions he’ll take.”

“Even if Duplichiro can’t use GM privilege to summon infinite Monetary Blades...” Sorceress picked up on the conversation, twirling her parasol, “...there was a report on the news earlier about an illegal hack done on Pony Entertainment. It said that 100,000 yen worth of virtual currency was stolen. If Duplichiro was the one behind that, he could summon up to 83 Monetary Blades.”

“Ughhh...” Stroganoff groaned under the force of the three-man attack. Indeed, one had to say he hadn’t thought these issues through nearly enough.

“His identity, eh?” Taker hummed, thinking about Tomakomai’s words. He repeated the opinion he’d stated to Kirschwasser earlier to the whole room. A childlike personality, efficiency in movement, clearly unaccustomed to the game. Bring all those mismatched elements together, and you had Duplichiro.

“I agree that there was no sign of ‘play’ in his actions,” Stroganoff immediately agreed, and each of the Knights nodded in turn.

But it was Iris who tilted her head in confusion. “What constitutes ‘play’?”

“Put simply, attempts to look cool,” Matsunaga answered. “Our physical abilities here are greater than they are in the real world, and we can make impressive visuals happen. Since we all like anime and video games, we inevitably end up imitating them to try to look cool.”

“The way that boys in elementary school used umbrellas to imitate Jump manga?”

“Precisely. For instance, Yuri, you do karate, yes?”

Yuri looked up, surprised at having the subject turned towards her.

“You employ stylish motions that give more power to your strikes. That’s what we mean by ‘play’ in the world of the game. You gain Arts, strike a pose, then execute your technique... Even if in reality, employing more focused motions and subtler strikes would be more efficient and leave you less open to counterattack.”

There was no such “play” in how Duplichiro fought. His motions suggested an intimate familiarity with the game system, with no preconceived notions about “doing this will add more power” rooted in the physical laws of the real world. But at the same time, the player didn’t seem very accustomed to the game itself.

“Almost like a machine,” Nem whispered.

Iris tilted her head. “But you said he was childlike, didn’t you?”

“A sentient machine, then, perhaps.”

“You’ve gotta be joking...”

The High Elf Philosopher Tomakomai interrupted their argument, a small, quiet smile on his face. “Well, it’s not impossible.”

The whole group fell silent at the words of the hero who had not logged out once since the service began. Everyone had assumed that tale was an exaggeration, but the more he talked, the more inscrutable this Tomakomai became.

“Hey, Tomakomai,” Amesho asked casually. “I’ve always wanted to ask... are you an AI?”

In that moment, it was Amesho’s observation, even more so than Tomakomai’s pronouncement, that got the blood running cold.

But the High Elf just smiled and shook his head. “I am human, Amesho.”

“Wow, so you’ve never logged out?”

“I have not.”

What on Earth was he, then?

There was a moment of silent tension. No one could think of what to say next, so it was Tomakomai who ventured forth first.

“Whether Duplichiro is an artificial intelligence, or controlled by a human... well, the fact that reactions are on the level of those of a program could indicate a nervous system connected to a terminal, merged directly with a CPU.” The technology he was talking about was way beyond anything any of them knew. “Whatever he is, we can hypothesize based on Taker’s description. The fundamental motivation behind his actions is ‘display my power to the weak.’ He has a small child’s self-consciousness, which would explain why he fled from King Kirihito once he judged him to be ‘better.’ Thus, the ‘childlike’ assessment seems extremely appropriate.”

“What about the idea that he wants to imitate Tsuwabuki?” Stroganoff asked.

Tomakomai nodded. “That also seems reasonable, and the fact that he may have willingly removed his ‘Immortal’ status in response to King Kirihito’s challenge suggests that it must be the case.”

Everyone fell silent at Tomakomai’s words. Even Amesho had closed her message windows. Hearing the Philosopher talk so loquaciously was, in itself, an unusual thing, and her face had “Has Tomakomai ever talked that much?” written all over it. Whether this was because of the game’s excellent expression writing, or Amesho just having an easy personality to read, was hard to say.

Tomakomai nudged up his thin-rimmed glasses and continued. “First, why don’t we send him a provocative friend message? If he takes the bait, we could set up an ambush and lead him to it.”

The room burst into surprised applause.

“It’s a good idea,” Matsunaga agreed. “Just waiting for him to take action could leave us with beginner and mid-level players mixed up in it. I’d rather not see that happen.”

Probably only a small portion of the game’s top-level players knew the facts of the account hacking incident. Since there had been no official announcement from the devs, there was no way for beginners and intermediate players to know what was going on. Rumors were certainly spreading via message boards and SNS, but with no proof, they were being almost completely ignored. Taking those circumstances into account, Tomakomai’s strategy was a sound one.

“So, we need to figure out who can send the provocative message,” Kirschwasser murmured.

All eyes turned to the same place: the sole designer for Iris Brand, the red-haired Elf, Iris.

“Huh? M-Me?!” Iris clearly hadn’t expected to be the one singled out, so she was genuinely flustered.

“I see. Iris, eh?” Stroganoff nodded. The other Knights seemed to agree.

“Iris would indeed be perfect for it.”

“Yes, it’s got to be her.”

“I can think of no better choice.”

With Tiramisu, Gorgonzola, and Parmigiano all ganging up on her, Iris stood up and fought back. “Wait a minute! Why me? I mean, I know I’m pretty quick with an insult, but I’m not even that smart, and... writing a provocation is kind of... Right, Nem?”

“I agree that Iris is perfect for the job!”

“Nem!”

Nem’s mysterious face seemed to sparkle as she clasped her hands over Iris’s. A powerful reverence came into her emerald green eyes. Even though they were over ten years apart in age, the friendship and trust that they shared was ironclad. “I remember every word and line from the scorn you heaped upon me before our fashion show the other day! I just know you can dig deep down into their heart with provocations that might... no, that most certainly would make anybody doubt your humanity!”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Iris shrieked.

“Yes! It is!” There was no malice in Nem’s words whatsoever.

A little ways away, Taker whispered to Sorceress, “You’re pretty good at provocation, too,” but Sorceress merely lifted a teacup elegantly to her lips and responded, “Not as good as her.”

“All right. Those who agree with having Iris send the provocative message, please applaud now.”

Thunderous, unanimous applause broke out from those assembled in the guild house.

Iris, having been unremarkable since the day she was born, had never been on the receiving end of such applause on a stage, and was defenseless when her brain (misunderstanding the situation) began pumping out dopamine. With a bashful, satisfied expression, she found herself saying things like, “R-Really?” and “Well, if you really want me to...” She was truly vulnerable to peer pressure.

Soon after that, Iris started working on her message. Other players gathered around her to watch, going paler and paler at each word being typed. While they did, a shadow approached Kirschwasser.

It was Matsunaga.

“Lord Matsunaga,” said Kirschwasser.

“Hello, Sir Kirschwasser. I forgot to ask, but how is Mr. Tsuwabuki doing?”

“The same as ever. He is doing as he wishes. I cannot tell you the concrete details, but he is currently trying to get to the bottom of things through a different avenue than Thistle itself.”

“I see. Then our attempts may end up being for nothing.” But from the look on his face, Matsunaga clearly had no intention of stopping the excitement.

“Er, Lord Matsunaga?”

“Yes?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Kirschwasser chose to bring up a certain subject. “If money were no object, how strong could I become, in service to this plan?”

“Hmm?”

Kirschwasser was a gamer, too, but in terms of knowledge of pure game data, Matsunaga was overwhelmingly his superior. He was the game’s foremost Explorer. He had created the game’s walkthrough wiki. He’d even investigated the secret of King Kirihito’s strength, analyzed his build strategies, and added those to the wiki—of course, King Kirihito’s build only worked because of Sera Kiryu’s transcendent skill as a gamer, so everyone who tried to copy it ended up sinking.

But in any case, Kirschwasser thought, Matsunaga must know, better than he did, the best ways to make his character stronger.

Sakurako Ogi had Ichiro’s palladium card at her disposal. There was no spending limit. Ichiro had an account with JP Morgan’s private bank, so she could use it until all his money ran out. She was hesitant to use it, but if Ichiro was serious, then Sakurako had to be serious. That meant that Kirschwasser was serious, too.

“I see, I see...” Matsunaga nodded in understanding. After a while, he seemed to think of something. “Sir Kirschwasser, you’re still in the upper mid-level range, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll likely be executing the plan to lure out Duplichiro and deal with him tomorrow, so at the soonest, the time until the plan will be 12 or 13 hours. With that amount of time and Mr. Tsuwabuki’s credit card, I believe you could reach the game’s top tier with ease. It might require a few drastic measures, but I hope you’ll trust me.” Matsunaga went on, “I’m still investigating this, but in the Mediterra Demon Sea, there’s a miniquest perfect for grinding levels and skill points. We’ll want you to buy as many microtransaction boosts as you can, then repeat that miniquest over and over.”

“What are the drastic measures?” Kirschwasser asked.

“Allow me to level up your account.”

Sakurako understood fully the implications of those words. The terms of service agreement forbid selling accounts for real money, as well as letting someone else use your account by proxy for compensation. Lending your account or allowing a proxy without compensation wasn’t technically forbidden, but it was clearly in a gray zone, close to black. Of course, what Stroganoff, leader of the Red Sunset Knights, was doing was also in that gray zone, but...

That wasn’t the only problem. Kirschwasser would also be yielding his account, if temporarily, to a player he’d never met in person. If Matsunaga wanted to steal the account, it might be Sakurako who wound up with her account stolen this time.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Matsunaga. And of course, no matter what he did, as long as she didn’t input Ichiro’s credit card information into the server, Matsunaga couldn’t illegally access it. Still, it was a difficult prospect to agree to lightly. Matters of security on the internet went beyond merely whether or not you trusted someone.

“I’ll log out again at around seven in the morning,” said Matsunaga. “Then you will log in again, and if you’re worried about privacy, you should change your password then. From then on, you’ll train yourself until the time comes to execute the plan. Over the course of the night, I’ll create a training chart for you. It’ll be a build specialized for fighting Duplichiro, so it might be a bit min-maxy, of course.”

Then again, if Duplichiro was currently in control of the account management server, maybe being careful with security didn’t matter. And the devs had bigger things to deal with than minor infractions of the terms of service agreement.

This line of thinking was in the end, nonsense. “You should decide it for yourself.” That was likely what Ichiro would say.

“Very well,” Sakurako-Kirschwasser said. Thus, the contract was forged.

She was no idea if this was the right way to use what he’d given her. She just had to give it her all. Even if that was just inside a game.

More important than the fun of making her own avatar stronger, more than the guilt of entering this gray zone, Sakurako’s heart burned with her servant’s sense of mission.

Afterward, concrete discussion about the plan continued.

It was a very serious strategy meeting, led by the members of the Red Sunset Knights, with their wealth of combat experience, and Matsunaga, with his deep knowledge about the game’s underlying data. When Kirschwasser shared Ichiro’s opinion that the devs would be able to deal with this within the next day or two, and Stroganoff proposed that things would probably work out on their own even if they took no action at all, Matsunaga countered that they should keep going anyway, since it still sounded fun.

A comment of “Are you enjoying this?” was met with a response of “Well, it is a game,” and it was hard to argue with that.

It was summer vacation, so the beginner and intermediate players that Duplichiro would likely most want to prey on would probably start logging in after breakfast and stay on through lunch. Duplichiro was apparently, at present, holed up in the deepest part of the Volgund Volcanoes, but they decided to assume that he might go into action during the time period when the greatest number of potential targets were logged on.

They also discussed another form of violence that Duplichiro might take: trying to access their virtual cash and credit cards. But Tomakomai offered up an optimistic view of that, suggesting that the exercise of in-game power was Duplichiro’s real goal.

This meant that things now turned to the question: what should they do when Duplichiro moved into action?

Right now, the only path to the area of the Volgund Volcanoes he was currently in was being guarded by the Dual Serpents’ bowgun squad. That meant that they’d know the minute Duplichiro moved into action. In order to get a better handle on exactly what Duplichiro was up to, Matsunaga proposed temporarily becoming a member of Iris Brand guild himself—a suggestion which made Iris distinctly uncomfortable.

They agreed that if Duplichiro was going to take action, it would likely be around 9 A.M. at the earliest, and a bit after noon at the latest. When that happened, Iris was to start sending friend messages to provoke him, in order to focus Ichiro’s aggro and keep the damage from spreading. They would then use Iris’s continuing provocations to lead him to a place where they had prepared an ambush, and fall on him with their forces combined.

“I wonder if it’s possible,” Sorceress murmured.

“Good question...” Taker sighed back.

It was true that he no longer had “Immortal” status. It felt possible that if they attacked him from all angles, they should be able to do damage, but at the same time, none of the players present knew the precise details of Ichiro Tsuwabuki’s avatar build.

“Well, he isn’t Immortal, right?” Stroganoff said. “If he’s not Immortal, we can beat him eventually.”

“I dunno, Tsuwabuki’s sure close to immortal anyway!” Amesho said, pouring water on Stroganoff’s words.

“He is a Dragonet, after all,” said Matsunaga. “On top of the defense offered to him through his Dragon Scales, there’s also a high probability that he has continuous recovery Skills like Regenerate activated at all times. Even worse, if he does have them, then Mr. Tsuwabuki’s been close to invincible all this time even without using them.”

Silence fell over the group. No one would have thought that all these people ganging up on one player could still invoke such feelings of despair. It was the moment when they all realized how broken Narrow Fantasy Online’s game balance was.

“But he’s not Master Ichiro,” Kirschwasser reminded them again. All the eyes in the room turned to Kirschwasser. “He’s Duplichiro. He resembles Master Ichiro, but there are decisive differences between them.”

Matsunaga shrugged. “It’s an idealistic approach, but let’s go with it.”

“True. We don’t have a choice but to try.”

“Actually, we do have a choice. We don’t actually hafta do anything,” Amesho giggled. “But if we’re gonna do it, we oughta commit.”

In the end, everyone agreed. They were all raring to punch Duplichiro, after all.

“It’s done!” Iris cried out as she finished her message that would serve as the bait.

Those around her peered at the message and grimaced. Several among them ended up leaning back against the wall as though suddenly feeling ill.

What could it possibly contain?

Kirschwasser went to look. “Aah, this is...”

Iris was truly a genius. The vitriol-packed friend message was so brilliant that even a glance caused a twinge inside of him. For the sake of her dignity, he did not comment on its contents.

Scattered applause sounded out around the guild house, in recognition of her skill.

“Talent is indeed beyond a person’s control,” Sorceress whispered airily.

Sera Kiryu woke up. It was only natural; all this running around would be enough to disrupt anyone’s biorhythms.

The young gamer let out a long yawn, then tried the personal TV and the reading light. Neither would turn on; the window was also closed. This was all likely to let people sleep, but it meant that those who happened to wake up then would be forced to suffer in boredom.

Everyone around seemed to be sleeping, too, which extinguished even Sera’s hopes for pulling out a portable game system. Then Sera glanced at the next seat over and noticed that Ichiro Tsuwabuki wasn’t there.

Where could he have gone? Deciding it might be quicker to ask, Sera pressed the call button. Immediately, a voice sounded out from above.

“How may I help you?” It was impressive that a flight attendant could respond so quickly in this darkness.

First-class service is amazing! Sera thought, but the young gamer’s spoken response came out as a stammer, the result of innate social awkwardness. “Ah, r-right. Um, the old ma— er, young man, sitting next to me...”

“Mr. Tsuwabuki is currently at the bar.”

“Bar? There’s a place to drink alcohol? Here on a plane?”

“We offer soft drinks as well as alcohol. It’s only accessible to first class and business class customers.”

Sera blinked. The Kiryu patriarch worked at a company overseas, and their family was wealthy enough to own a home in Nagoya, but they were still solidly middle class. To Sera, the very concept seemed absolutely pie-in-the-sky... but of course, they were currently in the sky...

Sera’s father was an eccentric sort who had declared that he loved nothing more than to watch his wife and child playing games. As a result, he had spent a lot of money on arcade game cabinets and tons of brand-new software, all of which seemed to Sera to be a waste of money. But when he did occasionally come back from his business trips, he’d sit in the living room, watching rapturously as the two of them fought their white-knuckle game battles... so maybe, Sera thought, it wasn’t so bad.

Now, back to the subject at hand.

“Could you take me to it?” Sera asked.

“Certainly.”

When they got back from America and took their trip to visit Sera’s father in Italy, it would probably be in economy class. It might be worth enjoying these first class perks while there was still a chance.

“Where are we now?” Sera asked.

“We’re over the Pacific Ocean, at a height of 39,000 feet, currently on schedule. It’s just after 1 A.M. on August 4th Japan time, and we’re scheduled to arrive at Chicago O’Hare airport in about six and a half hours.”

Sera followed after the flight attendant, letting out another big yawn. She eventually led Sera to the bar counter, a compact space that nevertheless had a nice atmosphere.

After informing Sera that the first drink was on the house for those who had slept through the initial welcome drink, the attendant handed over a customs form and said, “Please, fill this out.” Naturally, Sera accepted it.

“Hey, King.” Ichiro was sitting there, holding up a glass.

“Old man,” Sera greeted before trying to take a seat. The seats were awfully high, and Sera was very short. After an aborted attempt to jump onto one, Ichiro offered a hand to pull the young gamer up.

“Thanks,” Sera said before working on filling out the customs form. It was all in English. Sera balked.

“Shall I help you?” Ichiro asked.

“Um... uh, if there are any words I don’t know, I’ll ask.”

Despite not coming to school for so long, Sera hadn’t slacked on studying. There were limits to the English ability of any middle schooler, but to ask for aid without trying would be an insult to both pride and aesthetics. Sera liked Capcom games, and particularly enjoyed the “learn by dying” attitude they encouraged.

The bartender, a black man, spoke to Sera so quickly that the English was difficult to make out. Assuming he was asking for an order, Sera responded, “A soft drink, preferably non-carbonated,” and Ichiro translated.

“Is it really okay to have a bar in an airplane?” Sera asked, while focused on deciphering the English in the document. Airplanes had notoriously bad balance, and Sera had heard too many stories of passengers getting injured during turbulence while they were out of their seats, then later filing lawsuits. Given that, it seemed a risky move for an airline to install a bar in an airplane.

“You see things like this from time to time,” said Ichiro. “In Emirates and Virgin Atlantic and such.”

“Are those names of airline companies?”

“Mm, yes. We took an Emirates aircraft when I took Asuha’s family to Dubai. I believe the plane itself was the same as this one, an Airbus A380 jumbo jet.” The way he rattled off all the terms suggested he hadn’t studied in advance; he just happened to know all of this.

It made Sera consider, for a minute, the totally different worlds they inhabited... but the young gamer immediately drove that thought from mind. They weren’t different at all; they lived in the same world. It wasn’t as if they were traveling to another dimension.

“I don’t personally enjoy air travel, but I do enjoy Emirates’s service... though this airline isn’t bad, either.” Ichiro cast a glance behind him as he spoke. The waiting attendant smiled and bowed gratefully. “Emirates is known as the unpredictable airline.”

“You really are an old man,” Sera commented.

“That’s what my uncle said, too.” Ichiro swished his glass around happily.

After a struggle, Sera managed to finish the customs form. The attendant, waiting quietly in the wings, took it, checked through it to make sure there were no problems, then bowed and left. Her graceful movements were all befitting of a top-quality airline.

The bartender finally brought the drink. Apparently he had been waiting for Sera to finish writing. Sera wanted to say “thank you” in English, but felt embarrassed having Ichiro nearby, so just responded with a nod.

“It all happened so fast I didn’t really think about it. But America, huh...” Sera murmured.

“Just think of it as social education,” Ichiro said. “Not bad, is it?”

“I wonder if it will be educational...”

From the start, Sera had had another motive besides meeting Ichiro.

Sera had wanted to meet the person behind Duplichiro, the person who had hacked the account.

Even though the hacker hadn’t said it outright, it was obvious that Duplichiro clearly thought a lot about Ichiro. So, as someone else who thought a lot about Ichiro Tsuwabuki, Sera had to be there to tell them... “You’re going about this the wrong way.”

Sera knew that becoming Ichiro was an impossible task. He was a goal to aspire to, and nothing more. The man currently elegantly nursing his drink was a target, one that Sera Kiryu some day had to defeat.

Who was this “child” who had stolen Ichiro’s appearance and methodology to indulge in his own fantasy? Sera had to meet this person and fight them one more time, if necessary.

But Sera still wondered about one thing.

“Hey, old man.”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you keep playing NaroFan?” Sera looked at Ichiro, glass still in one hand.

Ichiro’s blue eyes in the dim lighting of the bar looked straight into Sera’s, then turned back to the middle distance. He swished his glass again with a cool smile.

“Let me see. There are a number of reasons that I could name,” he said, giving his usual preface. “Because I enjoy the world. Because I like it. That’s more or less what it comes down to.”

“I wish you’d break it down and explain a little more.”

“It might be a bit of a jumble... I would like to have a more focused conversation with you.”

“That’s an old man thing,” said Sera. “I’m just a kid.”

“Then I’ll tell you one reason.” Ichiro lay his empty glass upon the counter. “It’s you.”

He surely wasn’t drunk, but Ichiro said it decisively.

“Of course, it isn’t just you,” Ichiro continued. “Iris, Ed, and even Asuha, lately. They’re all connections I sought out in this world, but could never find.”

“People who pick fights with you, you mean?” asked Sera.

“That’s a straightforward way of putting it, yes.”

He had been very bored, Ichiro went on to say. He had spent his days without much new stimulation. He’d found ways to have fun day by day, but there had been no amusements that he could be sure would continue into the future. Sometimes he’d goad Sakurako into a cooking battle, or a cleaning battle, or a competition to see how long they could endure sitting around the kotatsu going full blast in the middle of summer. All those things were enjoyable, but he couldn’t do them every day.

“You do stuff like that, old man?” Sera asked.

“For the sake of Sakurako-san’s honor, I won’t bring up our win-loss record.”

The housework aside, Sera suspected that Ichiro was probably the one who always won the endurance contests.

“But you’re different,” Ichiro continued. “In the game, you’re always challenging me. That makes me happy. I enjoy it. And what makes me even happier is the feeling that you intend to keep challenging me.”

So Ichiro knew what was on Sera’s mind... perhaps that stood to reason.

Sera had never forgotten the experience of losing to Ichiro. The battle certainly had been invigorating. In that moment, Sera had merged with “King Kirihito” and pushed Ichiro Tsuwabuki to a standstill. Almost to defeat, even.

It had been a fun battle. But it wasn’t true that Sera had no regrets. The loss had been frustrating, but the desire to win next time had been fuel for Sera’s continuous training, moving forward.

“Do you think that’s true for the others, too?” Sera asked.

“Yes. I think it definitely applies to Iris, especially, though she comes at it from a slightly different angle than you do.”

Ichiro seemed to like Iris quite a bit. She had no talent, but she knew that, and she faced that truth unflinchingly. She often failed and suffered setbacks, yet she never gave up. She was the polar opposite of Ichiro, who had been blessed with too many talents, and even a far cry from Sera in that regard. Having someone like Iris to continuously challenge him probably made Ichiro ridiculously happy.

“So, what about Tsuwabuki?” Sera asked.

“Asuha is also a bit different. She’s trying to break out of her shell.”

Asuha Tsuwabuki. Ichiro’s second cousin and Sera’s classmate. She had told Sera that Ichiro was effectively her big brother, and also her first crush, and given the way she fawned over him, it was likely that some of those feelings still remained. She had said she’d have to leave him behind when she grew up, but Sera wondered if she could do it.

“Lately, Asuha’s started to turn her gaze elsewhere,” Ichiro commented.

“Really?”

“Yes. I don’t believe she has a concrete goal like you and Iris do, but she’s trying to find one. You’re all growing up on your own, and that makes me extremely happy.”

Ichiro always spoke as if he was looking down on others. He was convinced of his superiority, and didn’t doubt it, even if he should. Sera found that annoying enough, but it was probably even worse for Iris.

“You act like the demon lord in an RPG, old man.”

“Sakurako-san tells me that often.”

“Then I’ll say this outright...” Sera downed the glass, then set it on the bar. “The demon king always loses eventually.” Then Sera looked at Ichiro Tsuwabuki with a gaze stronger than the young gamer had ever managed. “I don’t know if the hero will be a Fighter, a Mage, or a Thief. But some day, you’ll lose.”

“That is how games work, I suppose.”

“I guess it is.”

Ichiro’s smile was indomitable. But facing down with him in real life and hearing those words from his mouth, Sera now knew. It was a declaration of war.

King Kirihito wouldn’t lose. Someday, Sera would beat this man.

“I cannot wait to see it.”

The confidence to say a line like that was truly the confidence of a game’s final boss.

It was a few minutes later that Asuha woke up, started crying upon seeing both of her companions gone, and was led to the bar by the attendant, as well.