"You're out of your mind. I'm not taking any more orders from you!"
But Gai's resolve was already cracking.
That thing—the Origin Stone—was the single most important lead connected to Mana. If it was spirited out of Japan and hidden somewhere overseas, finding it again would be like searching the ocean for a particular grain of sand. And extending Funeral Parlor's reach across an entire other country? At their current scale, that was a pipe dream.
Yet every part of him recoiled from the idea of following this man's lead even one step further. On this point, at least, he was absolutely certain—he wanted nothing to do with it.
"Are you sure? You'd lose Inori. And without someone who can use the Void… how long do you honestly think you'd hold out against GHQ's next push?"
"..."
Gai had never felt such frustration.
He wasn't the type to accept being beneath anyone else's thumb, but he also understood that enduring humiliation was sometimes the only path forward. They had already paid such a steep price to get here. The Origin Stone—the very source of everything that had gone wrong—was almost within reach. How could they turn back now?
Still. He had no desire to be used by Diavolo again. Funeral Parlor was stretched to its limit, ground down by relentless operations and outnumbered at every turn. The losses had been severe, and their supply lines were beginning to run dry.
Keep this up, and both sides would tear each other apart—and Gai still knew almost nothing about Diavolo. He had no intention of becoming a pawn sacrificed in someone else's game.
"We've taken serious losses. We don't have the capacity to keep fighting."
Gai let the silence stretch before finally answering.
That, at least, was a defensible reason.
"You don't need to worry about that."
Inori's reply was easy and unfazed.
"It's not a question of money—even with money, the hardware isn't available. The support from those smaller groups can't sustain combat operations or cover the day-to-day costs of a hundred-plus people."
"Then find someone with deeper pockets. Simple."
Funeral Parlor's finances were something Inori understood well. Gai wasn't wrong—even with money, getting hold of military hardware was a different problem entirely. This was GHQ's territory; weapons weren't exactly on the open market, and every operation burned through their reserves. The most obvious symptom was the Endlaves: previously, Ayase had been able to field multiple units alongside other pilots, but now she was the only one going out. Still—thanks to Inori helping her capture Daryl's Steiner, their overall combat strength hadn't suffered.
"The Kuhouin Group. Even now, the old man controls more than forty percent of the distribution channels. He's hosting a business party on his private yacht in a few days."
"I've pointed you in the direction. I'll give you a little time to prepare—but you'd better move quickly."
"That's all."
"..."
One-sided orders. One-sided hang-up.
Gai's spirits had sunk completely. He knew, rationally, that he was about to do exactly what Diavolo had dictated—reluctantly, bitterly, with every fiber of his being resisting it. But there was no other choice.
It had been like this since that night at the white Christmas tree, when he stepped aboard Diavolo's speedboat. Since then, he had been a piece on the man's board.
...
...
The course of events had shifted.
Shu's name had never been cleared, and he had never returned to school. He remained branded a criminal—no path back to a normal life, no choice but to stay in Funeral Parlor and push himself through one grueling training day after another. Slowly, the people at school stopped thinking about him.
Haruka Ouma—Shu's stepmother—was the chief researcher at the GHQ's genetic pharmaceutical research institute. She held a doctorate in biology and served as principal director of the gene project.
Her son had been gone for too long. Through colleagues, she'd learned the truth—that Shu had joined Funeral Parlor, that he was still a wanted fugitive. If he had still been in detention, she might have found a way to pull some strings. But now there was nothing she could do. No path to bring him back. Nothing left but to quietly accept it.
Today was her regular day off. She finished work and went home.
Key in the lock. Door open. Shoes off. She dropped her white lab coat and pencil skirt carelessly on the floor and walked into the apartment in nothing but her underwear.
In the past, this would have made Shu go scarlet right up to his ears. But the home waiting for her now held only silence. This time was supposed to be pleasant and relaxing, but with Shu gone, Haruka found she had no idea what she was supposed to care about anymore.
— Haruka! I… I have something I can't walk away from. I'm so sorry.
She had lost count of how many times she had tried to call Shu. Not one call had ever connected—the only reply she ever received was that single, brief text.
What was it about Funeral Parlor that had made her gentle, kind son choose to stay? What could have made him dig in so completely?
A shadow of sadness moved through Haruka's eyes. She didn't bother with the lights—she went straight to the refrigerator, pulled out a can of beer, and decided dinner would be instant ramen. There was nothing left to do tonight but drink away the quiet.
"Good evening, Dr. Haruka Ouma."
Without warning, an unfamiliar male voice spoke from the darkness of the living room.
Haruka's entire body lurched with shock. The beer slipped from her hand and hit the floor. She scrambled for the light switch—and when the room flooded with light, she found a powerfully built man sitting in her living room, wrapped head-to-toe in layers that left nothing visible, a mask covering his face.
He was leaning back with his arms crossed and one leg slung over the other. Even behind that mask, Haruka could feel his gaze traveling shamelessly across her body, barely covered by her underwear.
"Who are you? Get out—or I'm calling the police."
Haruka's voice didn't shake. She called out coldly, composed. The kind of woman who was used to high-pressure situations. Most people in her position would have bolted for the door or at least grabbed their clothes first—she didn't flinch.
The figure lowered his leg, sat up straight, and looked at her seriously.
"My name is Diavolo."
"I'm here about your son. About Shu Ouma."
That name. The instant it left his mouth, the composure Haruka had held together cracked—her pupils trembled, something breaking open behind her eyes.
"Explain yourself! Were you the one who dragged Shu into Funeral Parlor?"
"Not me. I don't have that kind of influence over people." A light, careless laugh. "He did what he did for a girl."
Behind that mask, of course, was the rather ugly face of King Crimson.
This visit was Inori's next move—one she had put together from a sudden realization, something that had come to her earlier. There were two sets of Void Genomes currently in existence. Number 002 was the one she already held. Number 003 was still stored somewhere in the Sephirah Genomics laboratory—and Shu's young stepmother was, without question, one of the people who knew about it.
That made her useful. Inori had no intention of letting anyone reach into her chest uninvited at some future moment. She needed to get every Void Genome under her own control. If Gai ever had a breakdown and decided to go behind her back and track down that genome himself, she would be in a dangerously vulnerable position.
At this moment, Inori was sitting in a café not far from the Ouma apartment, sipping a freshly made hot chocolate while operating King Crimson remotely and conducting the conversation on its behalf.
— Little Inori, you're not going to hurt Haruka, are you?
Mana had been watching Inori run another scheme, and concern stirred in her chest.
— Hard to say. Depends on whether she's willing to cooperate.
— …I have to say—your stepmother is remarkably young. I'd believe you if you told me she was an older sister. That figure, that face—your father is a very lucky man. And she's never thought about remarrying?
— …After Father and Mother were gone, Haruka devoted herself entirely to Shu and me. She wouldn't remarry for our sake.
— Oh hoh~
A quiet, wicked grin crossed Inori's face.
— W-wait… little Inori, are you thinking about—
Mana's alarm spiked.
— I'm not. I don't have that kind of bad taste.
No one else would have the nerve to break into a senior GHQ official's private home uninvited. What Inori wanted was simple: that genome. She would tell Haruka to hand it over—and in exchange, she would return Shu Ouma to a normal life. That was the deal she had come to make.