Monday. At the promised hour, Gongjin Zhou visited Makoto Kudou.

Makoto welcomed him and answered that he would take the defecting immortalists into the institute.

Zhou and Makoto each offered a satisfied smile, shook hands, and parted.

And this meeting, despite a strict gag order, was known to Retsu Kudou after one hour.

“…As you’ve heard, Lord Makoto has pledged to accept the defecting immortalists. And for it, Gongjin Zhou has requested no special reward or conditions. His objective was likely only to plant these immortalists into our ranks.”

“I see.”

At the report from the old man who was dressed in a suit with hair shaved off in the style of a monk, Retsu Kudou, himself wearing a three-piece suit with his pure-white hair neatly combed back, nodded unhurriedly.

“Would it be wise to remain a spectator, Sensei?”

This old man who called Retsu “Sensei” was one of the Numbers of Nine, the previous head of the Kuki family, Mamoru Kuki. He was over sixty, but compared to Retsu, who was almost ninety, he was still not quite at retirement age. He had entrusted the family estate to his eldest daughter in order to fully serve at Retsu’s beck and call.

The families of Nine had a stronger sense of unity than the other Numbers. They weren’t equal to members of the Twenty-Eight—the Ten Master Clans and the Eighteen Support Clans—but more like a main family and branch families or a master and retainers. This relationship had originated from their Lab Nine days, when they had fought against a common enemy, the Traditionalists, with the Kudou family as their center; the reason it wasn’t the Kuki or Kuzumi who had become the leader but the Kudou was because of Retsu Kudou’s charisma. Recently, Retsu’s authority had also greatly waned—at least, to the point where Makoto could place a gag order on members of the institute—but for the generation of the previous leaders of the Kuki and Kuzumi (in other words, Mamoru’s generation), Retsu was still their leader.

“It doesn’t matter. Though we will need to revise our plans.”

“In what way, Sensei?”

“The hard-liners are the masterminds—contriving reasons to use immortalists from the GAA for Parasidoll development, whose performance testing just happens to be on the same day as the Nine School Competition, as well as trying to manipulate public opinion by badly injuring the competition athletes. Which means Gongjin Zhou, instigated by the Traditionalists, is the one who sent the immortalists into our institute in cooperation with the hard-liners.”

Retsu’s hypothesis was rough, to say the least. Anyone who had common sense would say that everything Retsu claimed was far too convenient.

But Mamoru didn’t object to the plan. The important thing wasn’t to construct an elaborate scheme but to stay a step ahead of the opponent, to outsmart and ensnare them. Both Makoto and Retsu understood that.

“We will have to make arrangements to prevent sacrifices among the magic high school students…”

When Mamoru referred to sacrifices, he meant deaths. He didn’t consider injuries something that needed to be avoided.

“Don’t worry. The Parasidolls have always had limiters preventing them from attacking noncombatants. We planned to have them use guerrilla combat mode during these tests, but if we deploy them with normal settings, no students in plainclothes will come under attack.”

Even knowing that, Retsu guaranteed there wouldn’t even be injuries.

“Won’t the immortalist spells affect the limiters?”

Mamoru’s concern was a reasonable one, but Retsu’s confidence didn’t waver.

“To begin with, it’s impossible for a Parasidoll to go mad. The parasite and gynoid are linked together with a loyalty spell. The limiters programmed into the spell have the same effects as a geas, from ancient Celtic magic. The parasites receive the necessary supply of psions for their activities from the gynoid under the condition that they’re bound by the loyalty spell. If one tries to act contrary to the restrictions of its limiter, the parasite will immediately expel all its psions and fall into a hibernating state. In that way, the gynoid’s frame becomes a container sealing the parasite within. It’s described in the loyalty spell as a penalty to pay should the limits be violated.”

“Meaning that if we wished it, we could render Gongjin Zhou’s entire plot pointless…?”

“Yes.”

Retsu and Mamoru shared a private smile.

“But then the Parasidolls wouldn’t have any targets in the first place,” pointed out Mamoru in a half-joking tone.

Retsu, however, answered him very seriously. “If there is a soldier not identified as an ally, in other words an armed person, the Parasidoll will mark that person as an attack target. I’m thinking of having them go up against Kazama’s subordinates.”

Retsu’s targets didn’t stop at the hard-liners and the Traditionalists. He was trying to take care of every opposing faction at once. Mamoru, after realizing that, unconsciously straightened up.

“Will Kazama take the bait? And I can’t imagine Saeki would stay silent.”

“He’ll take it. One of his subordinates will, at least.”

Whatever idea passed through the back of his mind at that moment, Retsu erased his expression and continued like this.

“If he learns the competition is being targeted, Miya’s son will surely act. Even if he knows he will end up playing the fool, he won’t have the option of not intervening.”

“Lady…Miya, you mean of the Yotsuba? Did Kazama have a subordinate like that?”

Mamoru’s question was hushed. Retsu didn’t return an answer.

“If he acts, Kazama will have to act as well. At least, he will have no choice but to tacitly permit it.” Retsu breathed a quiet sigh. “Neither Kazama nor Saeki can stop him, after all.”

July crawled into its final third, and Tatsuya eventually got some breathing room. The prospects for dealing with the competition’s new rules, which had been piled on during exam season, looked bright as well. The players had gotten well used to the new events Rower and Gunner and Shields Down, and this week’s results saw the competitors winning out against their practice partners. The only concern was the Steeplechase, but they couldn’t do much other than get used to running through the training woods over rough terrain. They couldn’t even guess as to what sort of obstacles would be in store for them, so they just had to do what they could.

And then finally, Tatsuya managed to wring out some free time on the night of July 21, a Saturday. He was now deep into the investigations of Lab Nine that he’d planned with Yakumo.

At the moment, he was relaxing in a private room on a linear train headed for Nara. This wasn’t the long-distance transportation mechanism called a trailer with a bus or cabinet loaded onto it, but an old-timey multiperson train. This type of train had survived as a means of transportation that prioritized trip comfort over the convenience of never having to transfer. In old-fashioned terms, one could describe it as an express train with only green cars.

So why was Tatsuya, who was off to play secret agent, indulging in such a luxury? The reason was his traveling companion.

The plan had originally only included Tatsuya and Yakumo.

Currently, four people were in this room. Miyuki had steamrolled him by asking him to bring her along, and Minami had been right behind her, saying that if Lady Miyuki was going on a trip, she would be there to look after her; they were both with him now.

“This is much more comfortable than I expected, Brother. And it feels to me as though it’s going quite fast, at that.”

Miyuki seemed thrilled about their linear train trip. She was right—the cushioning was good, with the train almost not shaking at all, and it was pushing speeds comparable to short-distance aircraft. But more than anything, it was first and foremost a novel experience. In modern times, with ground-based transportation having shifted toward decentralized methods with lower concentrations of people, even riding a bus was out of the ordinary. It was both Tatsuya’s and Miyuki’s first time on a train many people rode at once and a high-class one at that, with the interior split into individual compartments. Even Tatsuya was a little out of his element, so he couldn’t blame Miyuki for being excited. Looking more closely, Minami seemed a bit buoyant as well.

Yakumo had been the one to arrange this transport for them. Their initial plan had been to take a wagon car driven by one of his disciples and rush there at high speed, but once he learned Miyuki would be coming, he’d changed the schedule. Part of it was that they’d check into the hotel quite late if they used a car, but it was mainly as a safety measure.

The possibility that Lab Nine and the Numbers of Nine knew of their actions was slim to none. Encountering obstacles, then, was unthinkable, but in the very worst case, the car would have run the risk of causing an accident—like the one on the way to the Nines last year.

With a linear train, as long as they didn’t hesitate over the chances of indiscriminate terrorism, it was impossible to make an attack look like an accident. Other passengers were on board as well, so an assassin could have been lurking in their midst, but with this group, assailants would be easier to deal with than a traffic accident.

Still, they also knew the possibility of actually being attacked was equal to zero.

In the end, his true goal was mostly seizing a chance to make Miyuki and Minami happy.

Once Tatsuya’s party reached Nara Station, they split into two groups. They’d been informed of this beforehand, but Yakumo wanted to move separately, so he got in a cabinet headed for Kyoto.

After seeing him off at the station, the other three first checked into their hotel. Tatsuya opened up his luggage in the rooms and immediately changed. He swapped his travel clothes for a riding suit with a blouson over it. Material science had become quite advanced, but in the middle of summer, the outfit was still hot. Still, he had no choice if he wanted to conceal the CADs under his arms. It was only a temporary comfort, but once he sprayed some cooling substance under his blouson, he was all set.

As Tatsuya was about to leave the room, he ran into trouble, which was, in a certain way, just as he expected.

“…Then you must leave me here no matter what?”

Miyuki was looking at him with an overly dramatic gaze, as though she were seeing off a hero starting on a journey to a distant world. With her hands clasped in front of her chest and everything. Even Tatsuya, as indulgent as he was with his sister, couldn’t go along with it—his answer was a cold, short one.

“It’s dangerous. I can’t take you along.”

“I promise I would never be a burden!”

“Young women shouldn’t be going out at this hour anyway. I don’t remember you being a poorly behaved lady, Miyuki.”

The current time was a little before nine PM. On days she had lessons, it wasn’t unusual at all for Miyuki to be out at this hour. Tatsuya had made the offhand remark knowing full well it would be unconvincing, but it yielded a surprising effect.

“…All right. I’ll do as you say, Brother.”

Miyuki made a face like she was in shock before nodding and hanging her head.

Tatsuya wondered to himself where on earth she’d learned this kind of acting.

“Minami, take care of Miyuki for me.”

But he couldn’t waste time in this situation. The only time they had to use was tonight. Tatsuya ordered Minami to take care of her, a pretext for keeping an eye on her, and placed his hand on the door.

“Of course.”

He could tell without looking that Minami had politely bowed. A hint of joy that she’d be able to carry out her responsibilities made it into her voice. Tatsuya decided to leave before he got a headache.

After leaving the hotel behind on a rental bike he’d arranged in advance in Tokyo, Tatsuya headed for the old Lab Nine—even if he didn’t have a reason or pretext to get in by normal methods. On the public road in front of the institute, at exactly the halfway point between two streetlights, where their light was weakest, he parked the motorcycle on the shoulder.

Around old Lab Nine—which currently held the official name Class Nine Magic Development Institute—were only detached homes one couldn’t even tell if anyone lived in and no unmanned convenience stores, either. At best, it was a quiet environment.

With how inactive it was, even a quiet voice would easily be picked up on a microphone. The incredibly low amount of traffic meant even one person would stand out. The conditions were tighter than anticipated, and Tatsuya’s actions became more cautious to match.

He took an information terminal out of the side bag hooked onto the front of his bike seat. Pretending to open a map app to figure out where he was going, he directed his Elemental Sight at the institute’s interior.

Publicly, old Lab Nine’s current research theme was perception-type magic development. The reality might have been different, but if they were using it as a pretext, they’d have to at least be conducting token development into perception spells.

It wasn’t as though Tatsuya knew every spell in existence. Chaotic battles were one thing, but if he used his Elemental Sight in a situation like this without any extra noise to cover him, there was a very real chance they’d notice his spell through some method unknown to him.

But it’s still less risky than sneaking inside.

Reassuring himself with that thought, he used his eyes that gave him a commanding view of the Idea.

First, he placed the entire institute within his vision.

They’d chosen the Nines as a testing ground, so these P-Weapons were probably something that used magical abilities. If they were testing them against magicians, then they were either weapons that used magic or weapons that blocked it.

In Tatsuya’s estimation, there were two types of weapon that could use magic. The first was one that utilized a stored magic program, like the Ni no Magatama. Over half a year had passed since he’d begun analyzing the jewel, but he hadn’t gotten any results. But maybe old Lab Nine had been able to successfully store a magic program.

The other type was a combat robot, a fusion of a parasite and a humanoid machine. Pixie’s existence already proved that concept was practical, so there was a good chance the weapon was similar.

Whichever it was, he would be able to observe dense quantities of psions. If it was a magic program–storing weapon, then the stored magic programs themselves—if it was a combat robot, then the psions stored within the parasite residing inside it.

He decided not to consider the possibility the weapons were the magic-blocking variety. Using antinite was one thing, but if it was some kind of tech that tried to emulate the Cast Jamming that Tatsuya himself possessed, he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference between that and a regular CAD. Searching for something he wouldn’t be able to find would be a waste of time.

As he looked very carefully across the institute, sure enough, he saw one spot particularly thick with psions. He narrowed his magic vision’s focus down to that section.

And that was how he saw it:

Parasites, residing inside…female-type robots?

At about the same time as Tatsuya discovered the Parasidolls…

“…Yes.”

There had been a telephone call from the desk to the room Miyuki and Minami were staying in.

“Yes… Please wait a moment.”

Minami, who had picked up the antique-style telephone with the receiver and speaker connected via an arm, covered the speaker up and turned around to Miyuki.

“Big Sister Miyuki?”

Sometimes at home she would accidentally call her Lady Miyuki, but in a place where others could possibly have been listening to them, she made an unconscious judgment to use the decided-upon title.

“You seem to have a visitor who wants to meet with you.”

“What? With me? Ask them their name.”

“All right.”

After a few more exchanges through the receiver with the front desk, Minami turned around, her countenance this time slightly tense.

“It’s Lord Mitsugu Kuroba and Lady Ayako. They seem to be in the lobby.”

The tension was transmitted from Minami to Miyuki.

“Tell them I’ll be right down.”

After giving instructions to Minami thusly, Miyuki hurriedly went in front of the mirror.

Once Miyuki, accompanied by her bodyguard Minami, arrived in the lobby, she indeed saw the Kurobas there.

“Oh, hello there, Miyuki. It’s been so long.”

Keenly spotting Miyuki, Mitsugu addressed her, but Miyuki simply returned a slight bow and walked up to him.

“Uncle, it has been a long time.”

Approaching to a properly courteous distance, Miyuki bowed deeply.

“Yes, and I’m so glad to see you well.”

Mitsugu answered with a friendly smile. It wasn’t only in his expression, but in both his eyes as well. Miyuki’s powers of observation, at least, couldn’t see through his act.

“And it’s been about three months since I’ve seen you, Ayako. Thank you for helping us with so much during the incident in spring.”

Miyuki wasn’t confident she was smiling in the same way as Mitsugu.

“You’re very welcome. It was only helpful because you and Tatsuya worked so hard.”

When she saw a challenging light emanating from Ayako’s eyes in her smile, Miyuki felt a little relieved.

“Well, let’s not stand around. Why don’t we sit down to talk? And you—you’re Minami Sakurai, right? Please, you should come as well.”

Mitsugu gave Miyuki and Minami an instruction in the form of a proposal. Miyuki had no responsibility to obey him, but she didn’t have a reason to spurn him either, so she obediently followed after him.

Mitsugu brought the two of them (three of them, when including his daughter) not to a sofa in the lobby but to a hotel tearoom—and a private lounge for conversation at that.

“This hotel is under the main family’s personal patronage. I doubt you would have known that, though.”

Hit by a sudden preemptive strike from Mitsugu, who spoke of it in a mischievous tone as though it were a silly confidence, Miyuki struggled to maintain her smiling face.

“Oh, is that so? It was Master Kokonoe who arranged for our stay in this place, so… What a coincidence.”

“Ah, Yakumo Kokonoe? We may have to look into whether there’s actually some subtle contrivance in place, then.”

Mitsugu Kuroba, and the Yotsuba family at large, couldn’t help but be cautious at the mention of Yakumo Kokonoe’s name.

Miyuki’s answer seemed to have received passing marks under Mitsugu’s standards, so the corners of his lips softened slightly.

“Come, come—take a seat. You too, Minami. No need to be shy.”

Mitsugu, who had sat down first, gestured with a hand to the chairs.

“Thank you very much.”

In response, first Miyuki sat down, then Ayako, then Minami, in that order.

“It’s getting late, so if you don’t mind, I’ll get right down to business.”

“We’re sorry for rushing you. We have a car waiting outside,” added Ayako, bowing lightly to Miyuki.

“Please, you don’t need to worry about it. If you devoted time on your way back home to come here, it must be something important, right, Uncle?”

Indicating that she fully understood the implication that they wouldn’t be staying here tonight, Miyuki returned a nod.

“That’s right. We didn’t have any plans to stay over tonight.” The preface made Mitsugu’s intentions obvious before he took up the main subject. “We’re here about the experiments certain persons are attempting to carry out during this year’s Nine School Competition.”

“You’re referring to the P-Weapons’ performance testing—the ones they planned to use the Cross-Country Steeplechase as a location for?”

“You knew about the P-Weapons?” Mitsugu asked, a note of surprise in his voice.

He didn’t seem to have thought Miyuki would know the code name. But he quickly pulled himself back together and rearmed himself with a smile that left his true thoughts hard to read.

“No, only the code name. Brother has actually gone to investigate the details.”

“Oh…”

Mitsugu made a point of looking like he wanted to say drat.

“Is something the matter, Uncle?”

She knew it was an invitation, but she couldn’t tell what kind—beneficial or harmful. Of the two choices, going along with it and not, she picked the former.

“To tell the truth, we’ve been conducting our own investigations into them.”

Confusion rushed through Miyuki’s eyes. She said nothing—not because she’d swallowed her words but because she’d had none to begin with. Next to her, Minami’s eyes went wide and she put a hand to her mouth.

Not batting an eyelid at Miyuki’s response, which was in a sense just what he’d been after, Mitsugu glanced at Ayako. His daughter took out a data card for use with portable terminals from her handbag.

The look on her face as she handed the card to Miyuki was smug.

“Here are our investigation results regarding the P-Weapons, also known as Parasidolls. Please feel free to peruse it, Miyuki.”

“Parasidolls? Why, that’s…”

“I believe you have the right idea. Parasite dolls are weapons that use parasites.”

Miyuki’s brows furrowed, while Ayako answered her with a grin.

“Even we struggled this time. Up against another one of the Ten Master Clans and about the development of weapons that involve demons, with information that would doubtlessly become a media target if it leaked. Their security system was incredibly rigid. I doubt even Tatsuya could thoroughly investigate it in one night.”

At Ayako’s remark, which one could have taken as a boast, Miyuki found one point she couldn’t overlook.

“And you got this, Ayako…?”

“No, no, it wasn’t only her efforts,” Mitsugu said. “Besides, as you know, Ayako’s magic is geared toward intelligence work. It’s only natural she would work on this, given that her field of specialty is so different from yours, which is combat and suppression.”

What Mitsugu said was objectively true. Especially when it came to situations that required neutralizing a group of enemies, Ayako didn’t even begin to compare to Miyuki. But at the moment, with this data card in her hands, that thought wasn’t in any way comforting to her.

Right now, what Tatsuya needed was the ability to expose the conspiracies of the JDF and the Kudou family.

And right now, the one helping him was not Miyuki but Ayako.

“Sorry for calling you so late. If you’ll excuse us, we don’t have much time, so we’ll be taking our leave now.”

“Please give our regards to Tatsuya.”

As the two stood from their seats, it was all Miyuki could do right now to mechanically return the gesture.

In the spot of old Lab Nine that was particularly dense with psions stood figures of the same variety as Pixie—parasites possessing gynoids. As Tatsuya stared, wondering why they were specifically female shaped, Tatsuya realized that conditional-activation spells had been cast on them.

What are these? They look like mental interference–type spells, but…

A spell similar to Luna Strike had been implanted in all the gynoids. They didn’t seem to be part of the machines’ assembly. He sensed an instability from the magic programs, like they’d actually been added on after the fact.

Luna Strike uses an illusory impact to paralyze a person’s awareness, intentionally loosening their mental inhibitions and causing them to go berserk. Is this…a spell to make the parasites go on a rampage?

Tatsuya was baffled—it was pointless to make a weapon lose control on purpose. Just then, his information terminal alarm went off. He pulled his mind out of the information dimension and back into the physical plane—this world.

It was the sound of an urgent message arriving. He quickly opened it. The sender field was blank. The same as the one delivered to his house. The text read: Get away from there right now.

The situation and the message. Someone knew Tatsuya was here, and they had the motive to send him a warning. He was sure of their identity now, and a moment later, his “eyes” saw the signs of a magical attack.

An emission-type magic—an electric attack spell—and a mental interference–type illusion spell were coming. He’d been caught completely unawares. He wouldn’t make it if he pulled out his CADs now.

Making that snap decision, he struck his hands, filled with psions, together hard.

With a clapping noise, psions exploded everywhere.

Program Demolition. An anti-magic spell that used psionic pressure to blow away magic programs.

Since he hadn’t given it a direction, he’d used a larger quantity than usual, spreading highly dense psions into his surroundings.

He leaped onto his bike, then used the fastest method possible to take off.

The thick psionic mist was like a smoke screen, and it cut off any pursuit from old Lab Nine.

The next morning, in the train car on the way back to Tokyo, Miyuki, in contrast to yesterday, looked glum. She thought she was the same as always, but to Tatsuya’s eyes, her smile looked clouded.

It wasn’t that their private room on the linear train, same as what they traveled out with, was disappointing. Last night, Tatsuya had returned to the hotel close to midnight. At the time, she’d seemed simply tired. And when he’d seen her again this morning, the only impression he got was that she felt slightly unwell.

But once they were facing each other in the compartment after meeting up with Yakumo—for some reason, Miyuki didn’t sit next to Tatsuya like she always did—a shadow quickly began to fall over her smile, and soon enough it had become a forced one.

That wasn’t the face of someone not feeling well. They’d reach Tokyo in about fifteen minutes, but the mood wasn’t one he could leave alone until they got back home. He was also curious about what Yakumo, who had taken a separate route, had found out. But he felt that right now he had to prioritize his sister.

“Miyuki, did something happen? Or are you worried about something…?”

“Big Brother Tatsuya—”

“It’s fine, Minami.”

Minami tried to interrupt to cover for her. Miyuki in turn interrupted her, reaching into her pouch. She held something out—a small data card for use with portable terminals.

“What’s this?”

Tatsuya asked while frowning at the card he received.

“Last night, at the hotel, Uncle Kuroba and Ayako gave this to me.”

“They visited you at the hotel?”

His brow still furrowed, Tatsuya turned toward Yakumo. How did the Kurobas know what hotel Miyuki was staying at? They hadn’t kept it particularly hidden, but even the Yotsuba didn’t exactly keep tabs on her constantly. And she wasn’t someone they could immediately get hold of if they needed something.

“Ah, right. That hotel belongs to the Yotsuba. Should I have picked another place?”

Tatsuya’s gaze was fairly sharp in its own right, but Yakumo, sitting next to him, without appearing ruffled in the slightest, confessed easily. No, the term confess would be inappropriate. After all, Yakumo didn’t think he’d done anything wrong. And Tatsuya didn’t have any reason to criticize him.

“They said it contains data on the P-Weapons—the Parasidolls—and the results of their investigation on the experiment,” Miyuki stated in a low voice.

“Parasidolls… Is that what the P-Weapons really are?” Tatsuya repeated, remembering the female robots he’d discovered last night.

Parasidolls—dolls with parasites in them.

It was so plain, he thought, and it didn’t show much of a naming sense, but it was easy to understand. The gynoids sleeping in old Lab Nine were exactly that, dolls with parasites residing in them—parasite dolls.

“That was what Ayako said.”

Not Mitsugu but Ayako. When he heard that, Tatsuya guessed why Miyuki was so depressed. It was obvious to everyone that Ayako had a competitive streak when it came to Miyuki ever since they were little, but Tatsuya knew that Miyuki also secretly treated her like a rival. Their fields of expertise were completely different, but Miyuki was still too much of a child to be convinced with logic.

Tatsuya put the data card he’d taken into his pocket, still in the case. He was interested in the data stored within, but they would be arriving in Tokyo momentarily, and there was no telling who could be spying or eavesdropping on them… Or rather, that was the excuse he gave himself. Tatsuya didn’t want to compliment Ayako’s efforts in front of Miyuki.

There was no way the information Ayako and Mitsugu had given to Miyuki would ever not be worthy of praise.

“Tatsuya, would you mind letting me see what’s on there?”

But Yakumo was going to ruin his considerate act.

“Master, we’ll be at the station soon.”

If he argued too strongly, it would instead cause Miyuki to worry, so Tatsuya was careful about his tone of voice as he made a roundabout refusal.

“We still have ten minutes, don’t we?”

“We only have ten minutes.”

“It’s all right, Brother.”

Though Tatsuya kept on trying to decline, Miyuki leaned toward him, peered up into his eyes, and shook her head.

With words of objection on the tip of his tongue, Tatsuya wordlessly nodded at Miyuki. He’d ended up worrying her anyway, but he understood that going any further than this would be for himself, not for her.

“Master, did you bring a terminal?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one right here.”

Tatsuya pulled a wired connection cable out of his own terminal. Partly because their trip was only for one night, he’d only brought a portable terminal along. He’d immediately decided cozying up next to Yakumo to look at the tiny screen wouldn’t be a very pleasant setup.

After seeing Yakumo connect the cord to his terminal, Tatsuya played back the card he’d received from Miyuki. The contents were only characters and simple diagrams, so he scrolled through it quickly as usual. Yakumo kept up with his pace without an issue.

After scanning a quantity of information that would normally have taken fifteen to twenty minutes to read in three minutes, Yakumo looked strangely satisfied.

“It looks like it was worth the trip.”

Perhaps he was acting out of consideration in his own way. If Miyuki had been acting like she always did, he’d have broken out into a mean smirk. Before Tatsuya could ask what he found so interesting, Yakumo sent him data from his terminal.

The information that flowed through the cable to him was a simple career report. Of three people, mugshots included. Their names and features were both Chinese.

“Is this…data on immortalists defecting from the GAA?” Tatsuya asked.

“Yes, they’re fangshu users from the mainland who illegally entered the country last week.”

Adding timely information, Yakumo nodded. Tatsuya immediately realized the reason.

“The timing does seem too convenient.”

The report included the magic these immortalists specialized in: Chinese arts meant for controlling marionettes made of wood, stone, or metal. Spells to affect the independent information bodies that gave the puppets temporary sentience. A special note said that they were skilled in techniques for stealing control of independent information bodies from other casters and ones for severing independent information bodies from their casters’ control and causing them to go berserk. This special note matched the magic Tatsuya had found in the Pixie look-alikes—the Parasidolls—at old Lab Nine.

“Doubt it’s a coincidence. Someone trying to take advantage of the experiment probably invited them here.”

“Take advantage of it? You mean it wasn’t the Kudou family’s intent to invite them—no, wait, I see what’s going on.”

As he asked the question, he arrived at the answer himself. He’d considered it last night on his own: It was pointless to make your own weapons go out of control. Normally, the only ones who would benefit from making weapons go berserk were enemies.

“It looks like this incident will be another tricky one to handle. Though it might end up being a simple setup once you figure out how it works.”

Yakumo was absolutely right, thought Tatsuya. You prepare for one scheme, and then someone else integrates their own plans, and once you get to execution, it comes to light that all kinds of other ambitions have gotten twisted into it. In the end, they wouldn’t know until everything was over what the true nature of this incident truly was…

Just then, a message that they’d be arriving at the station soon appeared on a panel in the compartment. No announcements could be heard.

“Minami, thanks for this. That’s enough.”

They were out of time, so they’d have to adjourn here. With that sort of intent in mind, Tatsuya addressed Minami.

Minami nodded and suddenly relaxed. An announcement, which abruptly began to play, reached their ears. Minami had removed the psionic shield and the sound-blocking field.

Still sitting, Minami lowered her head once more at Tatsuya’s show of appreciation.