Tokyo.
Bunkyo Ward, Central Tokyo.
Bunkyo Eisei Public High School.
Over a thousand students gathered on the school playground.
On stage stood the principal, a balding old man with glasses, speaking into a microphone.
"Students, today we are honored to welcome Mr. Bridge, an internationally renowned disaster prevention expert, here to guide us!"
"Let's give him a warm welcome!"
Applause erupted across the field.
Balem Bridge stepped out from backstage.
He wore work overalls beneath a neatly fitted black suit jacket. He adjusted his red tie, then took the microphone with a relaxed smile, waving casually at the crowd.
"Hello, everyone."
"My name is Balem Bridge."
"I'm not much of a talker, so I'll keep this short."
"Just follow my instructions, and I'll give you a realistic and educational disaster prevention drill."
Every student's attention shifted toward him at once.
Compared to the aging principal, Bridge stood out instantly.
"Wow, he's tall…"
"That guy's built like a tank…"
"How the hell do you even get muscles like that?"
"Did he just smile at me?"
Whispers spread, most of them completely unrelated to the drill.
Bridge clapped his hands lightly and pointed toward the school building.
"First, return to your classrooms in an orderly manner and wait for further instructions."
"Yes!" the students responded in unison.
Soon, the playground emptied.
Back in their classrooms, excitement filled the air. Anything felt fun as long as it wasn't a normal lesson.
Not long after, a faint burning smell drifted through the halls.
"Hey, do you smell that?"
"Yeah… something's burning."
"Is that smoke?"
"Relax, idiot. It's obviously part of the drill. Still, this is kinda impressive."
Then—
A burst of static crackled through the PA system.
Balem Bridge's calm voice followed.
"Children… haha, it's me again. Balem Bridge."
"My sharp little ones, you've already noticed, haven't you?"
"You can smell it."
A brief pause.
"That's right."
"Today's exercise is a fire drill."
"I've started a fire in the basement, but don't worry, everything is under control."
"It's just special materials producing a lot of smoke."
"Now tell me… what's the real killer in a fire?"
Voices echoed throughout the building.
"The smoke!"
Bridge laughed softly.
"Exactly."
"People don't usually burn to death. They suffocate."
"Now then, the drill begins."
"Follow your class order, wet your towels in the restrooms, cover your nose and mouth, and evacuate the building."
"Move carefully."
The students began to follow instructions.
Gray smoke thickened as it spread through the corridors.
Yet no one panicked.
To them, this was still just a drill.
If anything, they were impressed.
Class 2-3.
Students lined up outside their classroom, crouched low, covering their mouths with damp towels. Some were already joking around.
They had to wait their turn.
When it finally came, the line began moving down the stairwell.
At the back, a few tall boys messed around, stomping exaggeratedly, pretending to be dinosaurs.
They treated the entire situation like a game.
The narrow staircase quickly became congested because of them.
Tap, tap.
The last boy in line felt a heavy hand land on his shoulder.
"Huh? Who the hell touched me?"
He turned around with an irritated glare.
Kubo Ichi.
At nearly 1.9 meters tall, he towered over most students. His size alone made him intimidating, and his reputation made it worse.
He bullied others often, collecting money like it was a tax.
But the moment he saw who stood behind him, his expression changed instantly.
Balem Bridge.
Up close, the difference in their builds was almost absurd.
If Bridge was solid steel, Kubo felt like cheap scrap metal.
"Ah… Instructor, it's you…"
Bridge smiled faintly.
"Afraid of strength but not of character. Arrogant at first, obedient after. Funny, isn't it?"
Kubo scratched his head awkwardly.
"I… don't really get it, sir, but I'll behave."
He quickly straightened up, adjusting his towel properly.
Bridge's hand remained on his shoulder.
Firm.
Unmovable.
"Ouch… that kinda hurts," Kubo muttered.
"Shh."
Bridge raised a finger to his lips.
"Kubo, do you hear something?"
Kubo blinked, confused.
"A sound?"
He listened carefully.
"Uh… footsteps? People going downstairs?"
Bridge shook his head.
"No."
"It's a crackling sound. Small pops. Like something splitting."
Kubo frowned.
"I… don't hear that."
"I see."
Bridge casually pulled out a toothpick, picked at his teeth, then flicked it away.
"Then tell me… do you smell anything?"
Kubo swallowed.
"Yeah. Smoke."
Bridge chuckled, then his expression sharpened.
"Anyone can smell smoke."
"What I'm asking is…"
He leaned in slightly.
"Don't you smell burning perfume… and flesh?"
Kubo's body stiffened.
"Perfume?"
"Yes. Perfume."
Bridge's voice dropped lower.
"SHOLAYERED. White grape, champagne notes. Cheap, but popular."
Kubo's breathing became uneven.
"I… I don't understand… what are you saying…"
Bridge clicked his tongue.
"Pathetic."
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a photograph.
"You really are a terrible son."
He turned the photo toward Kubo.
A woman and her child.
Smiling.
"That perfume…"
Bridge's eyes locked onto him.
"…is what your mother, Hosokawa Meiko, wears every day, you piece of shit."