January 14, AD 2096, 11:00 PM, Shibuya.

Late on a Saturday night, the roads were filled with young people, and not a car was in sight.

Cars were scarce here because of changes in transportation systems and commute conventions. The automatic cars and one-person transport trains operated all twenty-four hours of the day. And in a big city like Shibuya, you didn’t even have to use shared vehicles; the powered walking paths strung about underground would get you to the station quickly.

And now that the infrastructure for working from home had been streamlined, there was almost no reason to cling to an office until the late hours. The business style of the age was that if a job was urgent, a person would simply not go to the office, instead doing the work at home, then providing it to the company through private lines. These days, the office was a place to talk business, not do paperwork. And if you were doing straitlaced business anyway, you now never had to talk business this late at night.

Nighttime Shibuya was a city of young people, with no adults to be found.

Still, in terms of whether you could see the same sight at this time in other cities, that wasn’t the case.

Shibuya, Shinjuku, Ikebukuro, Roppongi… Of the cities with downtown areas geared toward young people that had flourished before the war, the only place you could see such groups hovering about and gathering late at night anymore was here in Shibuya.

During the twenty-year period of chaos, at different times, Shinjuku, Ikebukuro, and Roppongi had faced destructive activity from foreigners and angry young people boycotting foreign businesses, and had been devastated in the process, leaving behind moth-eaten ruins in places. During the reconstruction process, the government had opted for aggressive peace-restoring measures, rebuilding these cities with fairly cramped downtown districts.

But Shibuya was the exception.

Before the war, people in Shibuya had already felt incredible devastation as young people’s resistance intensified. However, the boycott of foreigners ended more quickly, actually allowing this city to avoid the complete destruction the others had seen. But because of that, the government had left the place in a lawless state at night, so it would be hard to say which was the better deal.

Had it been a lawless zone both day and night, the government—now less tolerant of disorder than before the war—would have proceeded with its “redevelopment.” Current administrative authorities had grown quite bold when it came to the limitations of private rights regarding real estate.

But Shibuya had a completely different face during the day.

When the sun was up, it was a city for business, where respectable employees came and went in a hurry.

When the moon was out, it was a nightlife district where young wannabe outlaws roamed.

Unable to sink their hands into it all at once, the related authorities still hadn’t gotten anywhere with redevelopment.

And tonight, once again, not long after the New Year, a large number of young people were gathered on the streets, living it up everywhere you looked, laughing with, flirting with, and punching one another.

Among them was a strapping young man with features that cut deeply into his face.

His outfit so light you wouldn’t think it was the middle of winter—a sweatshirt with a jumper over it—Leo floated aimlessly through the midnight Shibuya streets. Not floated in a literal sense; his jeans and sneakers were planted firmly on the ground. But you wouldn’t get the feeling from his gait that he had a particular destination in mind.

Leo had a certain bad hobby. No, not a hobby—more like a habit.

He was a wanderer.

He didn’t walk, run, or shout—he wandered the night.

The closer it got to midnight, the more he wanted to float about with no destination.

Leo considered it an instinct carved into his genes.

Germany had been the first country in the world to realize magician conditioning technology based on genetic engineering, and he was part of the third generation of the original line developed, the Fortress—or Jousai—series.

The Burg Folge was a series of engineered magicians developed with an emphasis on physical durability. At the time, close combat was thought to be a weakness of magicians, so they were genetically modified not to increase their magic powers, but to bolster their physical abilities. They weren’t so much engineered magicians as super-soldiers who could use magic, or perhaps, an enhanced human who could use both superhuman physical abilities and magic techniques.

Despite the engineering methods not including ways to deal with chimerism, it wasn’t difficult to imagine scientists using a far stronger and larger mammal than humans as a reference for the genetic modifications.

They hadn’t removed the Burg Folge body limiters from the outside—that type of measure was already known to result in a high chance of loss of magical capability—but instead raised his body’s abilities themselves.

Perhaps as a result of such forceful genetic modification, many of that first Burg Folge generation died at very young ages, and even those that did grow up mostly went crazy and died.

One of the few survivors had been Leo’s grandfather.

And because of that, Leo held a fear inside him.

You certainly wouldn’t think it, looking at him from the outside, but he lived his life with a terror in the furthest reaches of his mind.

Would he, too, go mad one day?

Would his inhuman factor devour his human factor and cause his mind to break?

He was true to his impulses because he thought that by releasing them, he could delay the moment when his mind creaked and broke. Because he knew of a precedent: His grandfather had lived free and died of old age.

That was why he wouldn’t go against his impulse to wander at night.

Wherever his heart pleased—under the moon, under the stars, under the jet-black clouds, he would walk aimlessly.

Some nights it would be the heart of the city, other nights the entertainment district, other nights the suburbs, and yet other nights mountains far from human civilization.

He didn’t have a set place. He chose his paths on a whim, based on his mood that day.

He’d happened to come to Shibuya today, which made the next thing that happened pure coincidence.

A young man in a dark suit, wearing a gray trench coat, which was new but had wrinkles here and there—

“Huh? Are you Erika’s older brother, the police chief?”

The person he passed happened to be someone he knew. That was all, but he spoke to the man anyway—which was another simple whim; he didn’t always speak to people he knew whenever he saw them.

A moment later, a wave of murmurs began to press into him.

Leo hadn’t been that loud, certainly. Just loud enough to make the person he’d just passed aware that he was there. Nevertheless, glances gathered on him from the sides of the road, none of them particularly favorable.

“Could you come with us?” answered the man walking next to “Erika’s brother” as he gave a bitter face. He knew this man’s face, too; it would be a little hard for him to call the man young, but he remembered. Not only his face, but his name.

“You were Inagaki, right? What do you need all of a sudden, sir?”

Without answering his question, which could have been dubbed rude, Inagaki grabbed Leo’s wrist.

It would have been easy to shake the man off, but Leo obediently followed.

They took him to a small bar down an alley. The sign out front had the word BAR in English on it, but given the place’s look, Leo didn’t feel they had any need to use English.

“Bartender, we’re borrowing the upstairs room.”

Without waiting for an answer from the bar’s owner, who was polishing glasses on the other side of the counter, they went up the stairs right in front of them. The men brought Leo into a cramped room; it only had a small round table and four chairs inside, but it felt filled to the brim. The door was a thick one with an airtight structure, like an air lock on a spaceship, but it went terribly with the antique furniture inside.

“I’m a minor, you know.”

Right before Inagaki could open his mouth after turning the air lock’s handle with both hands and making sure the door was firmly locked, Leo took the initiative, voice sounding innocent.

As Inagaki made a sour face, Toshikazu Chiba looked amused—not like he was having fun, but like he found this interesting—and laughed.

“Saijou, right? I’m surprised you recognized us. We were concealing our presence pretty well.”

With just that, Leo realized what Toshikazu hadn’t said. “…Did I obstruct an investigation?”

His sharpness seemed to catch Toshikazu off guard. “Well, well… You aren’t just muscle. Well, I guess Erika wouldn’t have helped you if you were just a meathead.”

Leo scowled reflexively, but goodwill versus malice aside, he knew she’d helped him a lot by teaching him techniques and lending him a weapon, so he didn’t argue anything aloud.

“I think your family might be raising its daughter wrong,” he said, his only counterattack being a meaningless jab.

“You’re not wrong,” said Toshikazu with a dry grin. But behind his levity, the glow in his narrowed eyes made Leo sense something that ran deep.

Sensing it would be dangerous to go any further than that, Leo shut his mouth.

“You don’t have to worry about the investigation. We were only concealing ourselves to avoid pointless trouble, not because we were tailing anyone. Officers aren’t looked upon kindly around here at night.”

“Yeah… You’re right about that,” said Leo, nodding deeply and a little sympathetically.

The sharp gaze Inagaki was giving Leo changed into a somewhat friendlier one. “Chief, isn’t this a good stroke of luck? What do you say we ask him?”

Leo obviously didn’t understand what he meant by only that, but he didn’t hurry them for an explanation. Toshikazu nodded, then turned back to him; Leo waited calmly.

“Saijou, what might you be in Shibuya for today?”

“Nothing in particular, sir.”

“Hmm. Do you come here a lot?”

“Not really a lot, sir, but I come here every once in a while. I think I was wandering around here on New Year’s Eve, too.”

“Two weeks ago… Then would you know of any strange incidents happening in the city’s downtown area?”

Inagaki didn’t stop Toshikazu, even though he was about to give details about an incident under media blackout. He knew they’d scoop the story up by tomorrow anyway.

“Strange incidents, sir? They happen basically every day. By the way, weren’t you stationed in Yokohama, Chief? How come you’re investigating incidents in Tokyo?”

“We belong to the Ministry of Police. We get bumped around Japan. This time, we’re investigating a string of freak deaths happening in the city.”

The words flowed out, light and smooth. But Leo wasn’t disturbed by the tone.

“Freak deaths… A psychotic killer? And serial?” he asked, frowning.

Toshikazu adjusted his opinion of Leo upward without letting it show on his face. “That’s right. I mean, you’ll know tomorrow anyway, so…” He trailed off, exchanging glances with Inagaki.

Inagaki nodded, then took a cell phone out of his suit’s inside pocket. Opening the foldable device, he called up an image file on the screen. When Leo saw the images slide past one by one, he gulped.

“The most recent victim was three days ago, discovered in the park on Dougen Hill. Estimated time of death is somewhere from one AM to two AM.”

“Right smack in the heart of the city?”

He thought “right smack in the heart of the city” sounded strange, but Leo couldn’t think of any other words to more appropriately express his state of mind.

Weren’t freak incidents supposed to happen deep in the mountains, far from civilization?

“This might be the heart of the city during the day, but it’s Shibuya—anything can happen here at night.”

But after Toshikazu gave a bitter response, all he could do was nod—he was right. Leo knew personally how strangely two-faced Shibuya was these days.

“Getting to the point… Seen any strange people lately? I don’t mind if you’ve only heard rumors.”

“Everyone wandering around this city at night is strange. What kind of person exactly are you looking for?”

Leo’s remark was valid, and Toshikazu let out a pained grin, even though he knew it wasn’t the time. “You’re right. But if we knew anything about the criminal, the investigation would be going a lot more smoothly…”

Toshikazu thought to himself about what to explain first; Leo watched him silently.

“Let’s see… The victims’ corpses we just showed you.”

Inagaki didn’t try to interject. He didn’t move to stop his superior from revealing investigative secrets to a civilian, either.

“They all died from emaciation. All seven had no external wounds whatsoever.”

“No external wounds? Poison?” asked Leo, expression changing.

Toshikazu shook his head. “As far as is known, they’re all clean for drugs, too. And despite having no external wounds, approximately ten percent of their blood was missing from their bodies.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.”

“I see… Yeah, definitely freak deaths. This is more like a mystery incident than a psycho killer,” sighed Leo, letting neither fear nor unease show.

“It might look like an unnatural phenomenon, but in reality, these were crimes committed.” Feeling perplexed at his attitude, Toshikazu went back to his original line of questioning. “Anyway, would you happen to know anyone who seems like they’d pull occult stuff like this? Especially people who have recently come from elsewhere, someone particularly rumored about.”

“People who came here recently…” Leo groaned, his arms folded before the question came out, until finally he unfolded them, a look of resignation on his face. “Sorry, can’t think of any at the moment.”

His tone was rough—no, disorderly, as though saying, Manners? What are those? But strangely enough, it didn’t feel mean.

“I can go ask some friends, sir.”

“Huh? Oh, no, you don’t need to do that. That’s the police’s job, and whoever this is might mark you if you start sniffing around.”

“…Well, I suppose, but…”

It went without indication at this point: Toshikazu and Inagaki were really feeling how difficult this investigation would be. If not, they wouldn’t have exposed investigative secrets to a young man they just happened to know.

“I’m not gonna ask them anything dangerous. I may not look it, but I’ve got a good sense of smell.”

“Really? Well, all right.”

“Chief?!”

Still, letting a high school student aid the investigation was going too far; it was too dangerous. Inagaki thought so, at least, panicking until his boss reached out to stop him. Then he brought a business card out of his pocket.

“If you find anything out, send me a text. You’ll only need to put in the key once; after that, it will automatically update.”

Toshikazu and Leo both ignored the lieutenant’s better sense.

“Pretty strict, eh? If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

Leo stood up, went to the air lock’s handle, easily turned it with one hand when it had taken Inagaki two, then went down the stairs.

January 14, AD 2096, 11:30 AM USNA local time, Washington D.C.

Japan time, January 15, 1:30 AM—the middle of the night.

Lina, who had gotten into bed, was roused by her roommate, Sylvia.

“What’s going on, Silvie?”

Lina had been an official soldier for three years and had spent half that time as the Stars commander. She was used to being dragged out of bed for emergencies. She instantly woke herself up and asked Sylvia for an explanation, voice clear.

“Emergency message from Major Canopus,” answered Silvia.

Lina ran to the phone without a word.

“I apologize for the wait, Ben. And that this is voice only.”

“No, I apologize for disrupting you during your rest.”

As far as Lina knew, Benjamin Canopus was one of only a few people in the Stars with common sense. Maybe the first-degree members were equipped with most of it. He was aware of the time difference, and that it was the middle of the night, but had called Lina anyway. It had to be something important.

“I don’t mind. What on earth happened?”

“We’ve located where last month’s fugitives went.”

“What?!”

The deserter incident that occurred last month with Alfred Fomalhaut, a first-degree Star, hadn’t been just a scandal; it had imparted a serious shock to the USNA Army leadership.

The incident hadn’t ended with Lina personally ending First Lieutenant Fomalhaut’s life. Seven other magicians and magic engineers had fled the USNA Army at the same time. Among them was another Stars member, albeit one of their lowest-ranking ones—someone in the satellite-class. The mission Lina had left with Major Canopus was to trace those fugitives and deal with them. And now he had located them.

“Where are they?!”

“Japan. We believe after landing at Yokohama, they went under the radar in Tokyo.”

“Why Japan…?” muttered Lina in astonishment. “And right here in Tokyo?!”

But Canopus didn’t have an answer to that question, either. It wasn’t only Lina who’d asked that question, and it wasn’t only Canopus who couldn’t answer.

“…The Joint Chiefs of Staff have decided to dispatch an additional pursuit team.”

“Does the Japanese government know?”

“No, it’s a secret operation.”

A pursuit of fugitives that would include espionage and combat activities in a foreign country would give an entirely different impression to that foreign country’s government. It was possible it would develop into a breaking of national ties if that government deemed it a grave provocation against its sovereignty. Lina was again made deeply aware of how vital the Pentagon saw this incident as.

“Commander, this is the message from the General Staff Office. Reprioritize the mission currently given to Major Angie Sirius as secondary and pursuit of the fugitives as most important.”

Lina took a long, deep breath before answering the transmission. “Ben, tell them I said, ‘Understood.’”

“Roger that. Do be careful, Commander.”

After a considerate word to her, the call ended.

She probably wouldn’t be getting back to sleep tonight.

The classroom that Monday morning was rife with talk of the freak incidents.

On Sunday morning, after the breaking news was broadcast on the country’s second-largest news site, media outlets began having a ball with articles about the string of bizarre murders. They were in wild excitement, unrestrained in their enthusiasm, enough so even to daunt their readers.

But that was also how fast news spread in this world.

Of course, most of them emphasized the occult aspect in particular, to fan the flames of a sensation.

“Good morning! Hey, hey, Tatsuya, did you see the news yesterday?”

But perhaps it was a sign of the age of Tatsuya and his friends that they jumped on the bandwagon even though they knew they were being worked up. And, as expected, both the friend who would never dance and then one who probably would right away came to ask him about it first thing in the morning.

“The news—of the vampire?”

He knew exactly what they were talking about, but it was common courtesy to ask and make sure.

And as he’d thought, Erika nodded happily. “It can’t possibly be a one-man operation, right? I wonder if it’s a professional crime organization. I vote for it being an act of the organ traffickers—no, blood traffickers!”

Before Tatsuya could sit down, she leaned up against him, then twisted to bring her face closer.

At this point, Tatsuya was thinking, Not that it matters, but your body is pretty soft, which really didn’t matter. But he constructed a more serious face and shook his head.

“That wouldn’t explain why only a tenth of their blood was gone.”

The authorities had probably wanted to keep that a secret so as not to disturb people, but the fact that the victims had about one-tenth of their blood missing made the term vampire incident come automatically with the other sensational words.

“Maybe they didn’t plan on killing them? Maybe they thought they could use them for a blood factory if they kept them alive.”

“But then they wouldn’t have left the bodies on the street. And the fact that there’s no markings of blood being taken doesn’t make any sense, either.”

A few of the articles had settled on the inclusion of a magician who erased the traces after drawing the blood with a needle, but a single healing magic cast wouldn’t erase the needle mark permanently.

“Hmm, I see… Yes, no markings is definitely mysterious.”

“Could it be an occult murder like they’re saying on TV?” said Mizuki from the seat next to him, entering the conversation, face clouded in a frown—and just a little on edge.

“An occult being… If there really were vampires out there, I feel like we would have known a long time ago.”

In the process of modern magic being made into a body of theory, those who had inherited ancient magic began to appear from behind the veil of legends. If there had been some apparition or specter with a physical form, it would have been made known along with the sorcerers. At least, that was what Tatsuya thought.

“Then you think it was all done by a human, and not by anything occult, Tatsuya?”

“What about you, Mikihiko? Do you think this is related to youkai and monsters and things?”

He gave an implicit no to Mikihiko’s question with the same tone.

Mikihiko groaned. “Hmm…” He shook his head. “…It doesn’t seem like a normal person did it, but I can’t say for sure…”

Tatsuya gave a mean smirk at the unclear answer.

“Still, magic was considered the number-one occult practice before a hundred years ago,” said Erika, leaning in. “Tatsuya, do you think this crime is related to magicians?”

“Not concretely, no. They are saying the street cameras’ psion radars weren’t picking up anything, after all.”

As soon as he finished talking, he shook his head as though changing his mind. “…But more advanced magicians can fool those radars, and someone using outer magic like mental interference spells probably could have committed the crime in the middle of the city with no one the wiser.”

“That’s unfortunate. I hope humanist trends don’t get stronger from this,” Mizuki muttered darkly.

Modern humanism was, broadly speaking, a form of discrimination against magicians.

A movement trying to ban magic usage based on the teachings of a minor Christian sect (perhaps heretical sect would be a more appropriate term), it stated that magic was not a power humans were allowed to have.

Because of their statement that “Man should live with only the power he is afforded,” they were named the humanists and had expanded their influence in recent years in the heart of America’s East Coast.

If they simply said “We’re not using magic,” then there would be no harm done, but radical humanists had engaged in several violent acts against the very existence of magicians; in the USNA, they were under close watch by authorities as a group of potential criminals.

“Oh, yeah, I saw someone on TV getting real excited talking about that!”

“Hey, mornin’. What’re we talking about?”

Overlapping Erika’s words and interrupting was, as always, the one who sat in front of Tatsuya—there was no homeroom teacher to suggest seat changes, so it was no wonder—Leo.

“You’re late today, aren’t you?” Tatsuya asked, lifting his hand to respond to his classmate’s abbreviated greeting. Though his appearance might have given you other ideas, it was rare for Leo to slide into the room right before classes started.

“Yeah, I was up late doing stupid chores… Anyway, what were you talking about?”

“The vampire incident everyone’s talking about,” answered Mizuki.

Leo’s face scrunched up. Tatsuya thought he heard the word again come muttered from his mouth, but just then, the message indicating the start of first period appeared on their terminals, and he had to end the idle gossip without asking.

Miyuki appeared in the cafeteria with no blonde-haired companion next to her.

Lina hadn’t promised to be there, so Tatsuya didn’t harbor any doubts or dissatisfactions about it. Thus, the remark he made was less because he was curious and more because it simply came to mind first.

“I see Lina’s not with you today.”

But his little sister’s answer was outside Tatsuya’s expectations. “She’s absent today, Brother. She said an urgent family matter came up.”

“Really…?”

Absent so early on in the exchange program? thought Tatsuya, but he didn’t know any magician transfer students aside from her, so he couldn’t say for sure it was abnormal. Besides, if he was right about her true identity, she would have many things to prioritize over school. And she wouldn’t have told Miyuki or Honoka anything other than that it was “a family matter,” either. So Tatsuya didn’t inquire any further.

Erika and Mizuki acted as though it was on their minds—of course, the difference was that Mizuki was worried and Erika was curious—but they, too, knew there was no reason they’d get an answer if they asked Miyuki. Instead, the same as always, the seven, with one missing (not Lina, but Shizuku), sat down around the table.

“Come to think of it, is Shizuku doing all right?” said Erika, looking at Honoka.

“Yes, she seems to be doing fine. And she said her classes aren’t very hard,” Honoka replied promptly, not feeling any doubts about it—with modern communication infrastructure, the Pacific Ocean didn’t separate them by very much. “She did say she was surprised that they still had discussion-style classes where the teacher participated, though.”

Everyone gave surprised and curious reactions to this episode. Studying abroad was practically nonexistent for students of magic, so they got almost no information about what kinds of classes were held in other countries.

“I wonder if Lina is having trouble with things here, then.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.”

Miyuki smiled even as she rebutted her friend’s concerns. In reality, Lina didn’t seem inconvenienced by the difference between American and Japanese class structures. Miyuki’s smile was cold, her tone purposefully crafted to make it sound like Lina had never gone to anything but a Japanese magic high school to begin with.

Her coquettish, devilish smile fortunately wasn’t spotted by anyone else. Their friends’ attentions were soon glued to Honoka’s next bombshell remark—or rather, bombshell news.

“We talked about it a little on the phone yesterday, but Shizuku was surprised at the news of the vampire incident, too. She says something similar is happening in America, too.”

“What?! Is that true?”

“I asked Shizuku the same thing. Apparently it’s happening around Dallas in the mid-South, though, not on the West Coast where she is.”

“That’s the first I’ve heard of it…” said Tatsuya in a surprised and impressed tone—he’d been diligently checking on all USNA-related news recently, considering the warning he’d gotten from his aunt.

“They’re putting a lot of information control on it over there, too. Shizuku didn’t hear about it from the news; she heard it from a well-informed student at the school she’s going to,” explained Honoka with a bashful smile, as though happy she’d drawn Tatsuya’s interest.

As he nodded, there was a light in his eyes, too strong to be standard curiosity.

While Tatsuya and the others were talking up a storm about their friend in America, the blonde-haired, blue-eyed high school student who had come there to study abroad was in the middle of a meeting at the USNA embassy.

“What you mean is, a neural structure never seen in normal humans had formed in Freddy’s—rather, Lieutenant Fomalhaut’s cerebral cortex?”

The meeting was eating into her lunchtime, but nobody, including her, insisted on a break.

“The term normal human may invite misunderstanding.” The one who answered was, despite not wearing the white coat, a man who looked very much like a scientist. “The autopsy turned up a neural structure we’ve never observed in any human’s cerebral cortex before, including magicians, in Alfred Fomalhaut’s cerebrum. More concretely, a formation similar to a small-scale corpus callosum had formed in his prefrontal cortex.”

Seeing that many of those in the meeting were giving him muddled expressions (including Lina), the scientist began to explain again, this time in a more lecturing manner.

“You all know that a human’s brain is separated into a right hemisphere and a left hemisphere, correct?”

After seeing everyone in attendance nod, he continued. “The two hemispheres are connected via the corpus callosum near the center of the brain. In different terms, the only place an average person’s brain will have a structure connecting the hemispheres is that place near the center.”

“The prefrontal cortex is on the surface of the cerebrum… No structures are supposed to connect the left and right brains on the surface, right?”

“Correct. In other words, something a human shouldn’t have was in the brain of Lieutenant Fomalhaut.”

Lina finally grasped why they’d needed to call her here. This certainly wasn’t something they could have told her over normal channels.

“What function could it serve, then? I’ve heard the prefrontal cortex is closely linked to thinking and judgment… If new brain cells formed there, did they affect his thinking?”

“Among us USNA magic scientists, there is support for a hypothesis that says the brain isn’t an independent organ for thought, but rather one for communication, which receives information sent by psycheons. Pushions, as some call them, are the true bodies of thought. In other words, the cerebrum receives information from the mind, and can also transmit information about the physical body to the mind.”

The scientist gave an insincere smile and shook his head at the question from the high-ranking martial officer sitting across from him.

“According to this hypothesis, the new neural construction that formed in Lieutenant Fomalhaut’s cerebrum was a link to an unknown mental function that has never before been downloaded.”

Those at the meeting once again gave bewildered looks. Lina, who had been thinking carefully, raised her hand to speak.

“What is it, Major?”

Though prompted by the presenter, she couldn’t speak immediately. It was only after three seconds had passed that her question passed from the rosy lips that men couldn’t help but be drawn to.

“…Doctor, is it possible that unknown mental function is an unknown magic interfering with the mind from outside?”

The scientist’s response was immediate. “I believe you’re asking whether Lieutenant Fomalhaut could have been manipulated, but unfortunately, there is no such possibility. This may be a hypothesis, but there is no doubt to the idea that the mind and body react to stimuli individually. You may be able to influence someone else’s mind, but it would never result in a structure forming in their brain. Unless the spell recreated the person’s mental structure itself.”

The idea of recreating someone’s very mental structure reminded Lina of the legend of a certain magician. That magician, however, was already dead. She was supposed to have passed away after a twenty-year hospitalization, without ever marrying or producing children.

Lina shook her head a little and reset her thought process.

Afternoon classes were still being held, but seniors were already allowed to skip classes. With an uninterested eye toward the freshmen and juniors confined to their classrooms and practice rooms, two seniors, one male and one female, had met in a club room with nobody else in it.

There was no amorous air about the room, though—even if their parents were considering they marry one day. (Out of several possible choices, that was.)

The lack was only natural; this secret meeting may have been secret, but it was no rendezvous. Katsuto and Mayumi had come to this place representing the Juumonji and Saegusa families.

“I don’t know why we had to come all the way here, though.”

“Sorry. I decided this way would be least conspicuous. As part of the Juumonji family, I’d like to avoid doing anything that would result in inciting the Yotsuba.”

“Well, my family and the Yotsuba are in a state of cold war, present tense, since two months ago. It’s all because that tanuki of a father is sticking his nose where he shouldn’t.”

Mayumi’s bitter remark caused Katsuto to crack a smile. “I didn’t know you could talk that way, Saegusa.”

“Oh my, I’m so very sorry. Was that in bad taste?”

Her overly theatrical flirtatiousness made his smile turn into a pained grin. “When I talk to you, sometimes I think I’m not being treated like a man.”

“You misunderstand. Out of everyone I know, you’re the ace when it comes to manliness. It’s just…”

“It wouldn’t develop into a relationship at this point.”

“Well, we have been rivals for three years—ever since we enrolled.”

After a short round of hushed chuckling from both of them, their faces got serious at the same time. There had been a heavy tension drifting between them even while they were laughing, though, so the mood itself didn’t exactly change.

“Juumonji, I have a message from my father—rather, from Kouichi Saegusa, current head of the Saegusa. We desire a coalition with the Juumonji family.”

“That doesn’t sound peaceful. A coalition already, not just cooperation?” Katsuto pressed, his eyes asking for an explanation.

Mayumi, of course, was happy to explain as much as he needed to understand. “How much do you know of the vampire incident?” she asked.

“Only what’s been reported. We don’t have as many pieces under our control as the Saegusa.”

That could be taken as modesty. Mayumi’s lips softened a little. “Your family does go for the whole one-man-army thing, after all. We may only have quantity, but as far as we know…” She paused suggestively.

And before Katsuto could prompt her to continue, she added, “There are about three times as many victims in this incident as they’re reporting. As of yesterday, we confirmed a twenty-fourth.”

Even Katsuto couldn’t maintain his stoicism at that surprise. “…Is that just in the Tokyo area?”

“They’re all concentrated in the city—in the center of the city, in fact.”

Katsuto folded his arms and thought about this. Mayumi waited wordlessly for him to speak.

“The Saegusa have information on victims the police don’t,” he said eventually. “And the victims are only appearing in a small, limited area… Are the victims related to the Saegusa?”

“You’re half-right. All the victims the police don’t know about are magicians connected to our family. Even the ones who aren’t a part of our family are either magicians or people with aptitude for magic. Students of the Magic University, for example.”

“Which means,” said Katsuto, expression turning grim, “the criminal is going after magicians.”

“…Juumonji, you’re scaring me a little.”

Apparently, his expression was a little too daunting for the female high school student to look at—leaving aside whether she was acting or telling the truth.

He grunted. “Sorry.”

And even if it was an act, it was certainly effective enough to make him yield.

“We don’t know if the serial killer is one person or several, but I think we’re certain this ‘vampire’ is after magicians.”

As a sadness began to drift from Katsuto for some reason, Mayumi returned to the conversation without trying to help him out—her true character was still that of a devil.

“Chronologically,” she continued, “the Magic University students and faculty were the first victims, and then they came after people connected to us when we started investigating. And meanwhile, the victims were increasing regardless.”

“You’re right. We can’t leave this be.” Katsuto nodded deeply, the damage he’d received from Mayumi still showing at the edges of his expression. “Do we have any clues? If they’re strong enough to harm Saegusa magicians, they must either be enhanced soldiers or magicians themselves. And it’s likely they’re from outside the country. Any suspicious foreigners who came to Japan around when the incidents started occurring, or at least to Tokyo?”

Mayumi shook her head. The Saegusa had probably already figured the same thing and looked into it. “But in terms of foreigners who came to Japan around the time of the incidents’ beginning…”

She shut her mouth then, but as Katsuto urged her on with his eyes, she continued hesitantly. “Quite a few transfer students and magic engineers from the USNA have entered the country. One of them came to our school as an exchange student, but… Juumonji, do you suspect her?”

“She’s suspicious, but I don’t think she’s the criminal.” Katsuto’s answer was immediate. “I don’t think she’s completely unrelated, but we should be able to leave her alone for the moment.”

“If you say so…” Mayumi didn’t seem to be seriously suspecting Lina, either. She lowered her eyes, showing a lack of confidence.

Katsuto asked something that was on his mind: “But if this is the situation, then I’d think we should cooperate with the Yotsuba as well.”

The suggestion made sense, but this time it was Mayumi’s turn to scowl. “To tell the truth, I think so, too…but we’re the ones who broke the rules. Unless my father apologizes, I don’t think we’re going to repair relations with them.”

“And your father has no intention of apologizing to the Yotsuba… I suppose I understand, considering the feud between Sir Kouichi and Lady Maya… Still, it’s unusual for the Yotsuba to be this hardened in their attitude.”

At best, the Yotsuba were on the road of sovereign independence, and at worst, on one of superior self-righteousness (not necessarily in a bad sense), and they had maintained a stance of not caring what the other families did. They simply strove to improve their own capabilities as though possessed, and their position at the top of the Ten Master Clans with the Saegusa was predicated solely on their magical power. Even among the clans, they were an oddity.

Katsuto got the chills whenever he thought about what they were doing behind the scenes, but nevertheless, as far as he knew, they would never show clear antagonism that would cause a fracture in the Master Clans Council. He wouldn’t say it to Mayumi, but the Saegusa were generally the ones who planted those seeds, so to speak.

His thoughts about what could have happened must have been showing on his face.

“I don’t know the details, either, but…” Mayumi began reluctantly, “that tanuki of a father of mine secretly got into a certain section of the National Defense Force Army’s intelligence division that the Yotsuba have their hooks in. And they found him out…”

“…I see.”

In that case, the Yotsuba’s firm stance made sense. Mayumi looked about to start gnashing her teeth in frustration; Katsuto could only say those two words. She was probably firing off ninety-nine abusive phrases at her father in her mind.

After a short time passed, Mayumi eventually seemed to calm down, and she turned to face Katsuto directly again. “What do you think?” she asked, tone calmed as well. “Can we expect the Juumonji to fight alongside the Saegusa on this?”

Katsuto immediately nodded. “You can.”

“I know you’re always quick to decide…but that really was fast,” sighed Mayumi. He hadn’t shown a bit of hesitation.

“Like I said before, now that I’ve heard the story, the Juumonji can’t leave the situation alone, either.”

Of course, her remark wasn’t enough to make him waver.