In the silence of an inn room in the heart of Inazuma City, Charles stood near the open shoji window. The cool night breeze slipped in, carrying the faint scent of cherry blossoms and incense from the distant shrine. The air here felt so clean and peaceful, a stark contrast to the stifling and despair-filled Ritou, the place he had left just a few hours ago.
He removed his dirty ronin cloak and fox mask, placing them in the corner of the room as if shedding an old skin he no longer needed.
He washed his face and hands, still stained from the remnants of battle; the cold water felt so refreshing on his weary skin.
As he gazed at his reflection in the small mirror on the table, he saw a pair of tired eyes gleaming with a cold, sharp light. He sighed.
Who would have thought I'd get a sudden mission to kill the informant who just gave me the map, he thought, his own voice sounding cynical in his mind. One moment I'm assigned to save people, the next to eliminate witnesses. This system has no morals. Only objectives. And the objectives always feel...
His hand unconsciously reached into his inventory, and a small chest appeared in his palm. The chest was adorned with intricate gold carvings and emitted a faint magical aura. An Epic Rarity chest.
A reward from a recent quest. He tossed the chest casually, catching it, then tossing it again. The cold metal of the chest felt heavy and real in his hand.
As the chest spun in the air, an uninvited memory suddenly flashed in his mind. An image of a woman, her golden eyes, her pitch-black bow crackling with purple lightning energy.
I didn't expect to meet Kujou Sara in such circumstances... he muttered to the silence of his room. He stopped tossing the chest and walked to the window, staring toward the towering Tenshukaku palace in the distance, its majestic silhouette looking so menacing under the moonlight. Actually, I could have used her. Kidnap her, make her a hostage to threaten the Raiden Shogun. But... I doubt that would work. An Archon obsessed with eternity would never negotiate with a terrorist, especially not for the life of one general.
He smiled bitterly. Besides, wouldn't that make me look like a real villain?
Well, I already do, come to think of it.
The night was still deep, and only the dim light from the full moon slipping through the window served as the sole source of illumination in the room.
Charles pulled over a low wooden chair, sat down, and gazed back at the moon hanging in the sky like a giant pearl. He looked at the small chest in his hand.
Finally, a genuine smile filled with hope—an emotion he rarely showed—curved his lips.
"I hope... this time I'm truly lucky."
He closed his eyes, his hand gripping the chest tightly. Please... give me something, something at least useful for achieving my goal. Give me Mythic power. Mythic skill, mythic skill! he whispered repeatedly in his heart.
With one steady motion, he opened the chest.
There was no dramatic explosion of light, just a soft click and a gentle glow emanating from the opening crack.
At that moment, a familiar notification appeared before him.
Charles opened his eyes. His body, which had been slightly tense, now relaxed. His sharp and focused eyes moved quickly, scanning every line of text on the transparent blue screen.
CONGRATULATIONS YOU HAVE GAINED A SKILL: FRAILTY'S KISS
CHECK THE SKILL IN THE SKILL MENU
[ACTIVE SKILL]
- Chain Bind: Uncommon Rarity
- Throbbing Fiend: Mythic Rarity
- Snap Explosion: Legendary Rarity
- Frailty's Kiss: Epic Rarity
Through a kiss on a target whose mental state is fragile, the user can implant an absolute hypnotic suggestion, taking full control over their mind and actions. This miracle demands an equivalent price: to enter and control an unstable mind, the user must open their own. As a result, each successful hypnosis leaves fragments of the target's mental fragility—such as trauma, paranoia, or anxiety—permanently fused into the user's soul. The more it's used, the more the user's own mental stability erodes, pushing them toward the same madness as their victims.
[PASSIVE SKILL]
- Split Personality: Epic Rarity
- Information Imagination: Rare Rarity
Euh... I really got a new ability, but only Epic rank, he thought, a barely audible sigh of disappointment escaping his lips.
His hope for another Mythic-rank ability had been too high. His once-straight shoulders now slumped slightly.
However, as he reread the description of Frailty's Kiss, his disappointment slowly faded, replaced by something else. Suddenly, a slightly terrifying smile etched across his face.
"But... it seems useful... though the requirements are a bit weird... why does it have to be so disadvantageous for me, having to kiss the target..." He narrowed his eyes as he imagined kissing someone of the same gender.
He almost wanted to vomit at the thought!
Yet, at the same time, the image of the Raiden Shogun suddenly appeared in his mind. He abruptly stood from his chair and walked back to the window, staring straight at the towering Tenshukaku in the distance.
Kissing Ei might not sound so bad. In fact, it's what I desire.Well, this skill is only Epic rank... but... maybe it's even better. This isn't power for destruction, but for bending.How can I fight a goddess who can't be harmed? She's an Archon!If I can't confront her directly.Then I can make her...Fragile from within.
At that moment, he closed the system screen.
The blue light vanished instantly. He left his room in a silence that now felt heavier. He could feel an extraordinary exhaustion enveloping his entire body and soul.
Then, he walked to his simple futon, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he decided to sleep.
...
Morning.
After a restless sleep filled with strange dreams, he decided to take a walk, trying to drown his anxiety in the city's bustle. The morning air felt cool and clean, filled with the sweet scent of cherry blossoms from the trees lining the streets, the aroma of freshly brewed green tea from shops opening their doors, and the savory smell of various foods being cooked at roadside stalls.
He walked aimlessly, letting his feet carry him along the bustling stone paths.
Around him, the city folk moved with orderly busyness. Women wore kimonos in bright colors, their beautiful paper umbrellas shielding their skin from the morning sun. Children ran around laughing, their cheerful giggles sounding like bells amid the crowd.
Samurai from the Tenryou Commission patrolled with firm, authoritative steps, their dark purple armor gleaming under the sunlight.
Charles, still wearing his simple ronin attire and white fox mask, was an anomaly in this harmonious scene. He could feel the curious stares from the people around him, and his sharp ears caught their whispers as he passed.
"That man again... the one who came from Ritou yesterday. Why is he still wearing a mask?"
"I don't know, maybe he's a kabuki actor? Or perhaps he has a horrible burn scar on his face?"
"Shh, don't stare too long. His aura feels so cold."
Charles ignored them all. He bought some yakitori skewers from a stall, the aroma of grilled chicken with sweet and slightly charred tare sauce making his empty stomach rumble.
He found an empty bench near a small wooden bridge crossing a clear canal and sat there to enjoy his breakfast.
He ate slowly, his eyes hidden behind the mask observing the flow of city life before him.
Incredible... he thought, a genuine tone of admiration in his mind.
As he was lost in his thoughts, his ears suddenly caught a conversation from two men sitting not far from him, behind some bushes.
Their voices were low, as if it was something not meant for ordinary ears.
One of the men, a ronin with a scar on his cheek, sounded skeptical. He leaned back on the bench with arms crossed, his body radiating disbelief.
"Are you sure about what you saw? It sounds like nonsense from cheap novels."
The other man, a young apprentice merchant, leaned forward enthusiastically, his voice trembling with excitement.
"I swear on my life, sir! I saw it with my own eyes! That small shop at the end of Hanamizaka Street... the owner isn't ordinary!"
A shop? Charles thought, his curiosity piqued. He stopped chewing, his body tensing slightly, his ears now fully focused on their conversation.
"He doesn't sell goods," the man continued, his voice growing quieter. "He sells 'services.' Yesterday, a customer brought an old torn paper fan. The shop owner just took it, stared at it for a moment using a strange monocle. After that... after that, the fan changed!"
His companion snorted. "Changed how? Into gold?"
"No! Way better than that! The customer then waved the fan, and from that old paper fan came a gust of wind so strong it cut a thick bamboo stalk in half! I saw it myself!"
Charles froze. His hand, about to take the last piece of chicken, stopped in mid-air. Granting abilities... to ordinary objects. That... His heart began to beat a little faster.
His companion sounded a bit more interested now. "Maybe he's just an Anemo Vision user showing off," he said, though his tone was no longer as skeptical.
"No way!" the previous man countered quickly. "I've seen Anemo Vision users fight. This was different. This wasn't wind that could be created by an Anemo Vision!"
At that moment, his companion suddenly felt something strange. An uncomfortable feeling as if being watched.
He slowly turned around, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings, finally stopping on Charles's figure sitting still on the bench, his fox mask facing directly toward them.
Though he couldn't see the eyes, he could feel the intensity of the gaze behind the mask.
He quickly elbowed the man beside him hard. And immediately, he stopped talking and turned as well.
Upon seeing Charles staring at them, his face turned deathly pale.
Their conversation halted abruptly. Without another word, the two men rose from their bench and walked away with quick, nervous steps, occasionally glancing back as if afraid of being followed.
Charles didn't move. He just sat there, watching them leave. He slowly resumed his delayed meal, chewing the last piece of chicken with slow, deliberate motions, his mind racing.
Something that can grant an object special abilities... it sounds so familiar... Could this be related to another Player? he muttered. A coincidence?Why am I encountering my kind more and more often... I'm no longer special in this world...
He finished his food, tossed the bamboo skewers into the trash, then stood up.
With calm, silent steps, he began following the two men from a distance, blending back into the shadows of the bustling city.
...
The two men—the burly ronin named Hideo and the younger apprentice merchant named Kenji—walked with hastened steps, occasionally whispering to each other in panic.
They thought their sudden departure from the park bench had been enough to shake off the mysterious stalker!
However, Kenji couldn't shake the uncomfortable feeling creeping up his spine, a cold sensation as if a pair of eyes were constantly piercing his back.
He mustered the courage to glance back quickly. His heart seemed to stop beating.
Amid the crowd of passersby, he saw it: a pale white kitsune mask, standing still for a moment, staring straight at them, before moving again, maintaining the exact same distance as before.
"He's still there!" Kenji whispered to Hideo, his voice trembling with panic.
Hideo's jaw tightened. He glanced back quickly, and his sharp eyes caught the masked figure too. "Damn it," he growled.
"Keep walking. Don't run. Let's try to disappear in the market."
They quickened their pace, now almost running, their shoulders occasionally bumping into other pedestrians who glared at them in annoyance.
They entered the denser market area, where the streets narrowed and were filled with stalls selling all sorts of goods, from fresh fish with a fishy smell to colorful silk rolls.
The low hum of merchants and buyers, along with the strong aroma of incense and spices, should have been the perfect hiding spot.
They slipped through the crowd, making sharp turns at several corners, and even hid briefly behind a large textile stall.
After feeling safe enough, they resumed walking at a slower pace, their breaths ragged.
Kenji glanced back again, hoping the figure had vanished.
But his hope shattered into pieces.
Across the crowd, leaning casually against a pole, the masked figure was still staring at them, his head tilted slightly as if enjoying the game.
At that moment, Hideo shouted, "RUN!"
The two of them bolted blindly, pushing and bumping into people on the street, no longer caring about the curses or insults directed at them.
They knocked over a basket full of fruits, sending various fruits rolling everywhere.
They collided with an old woman, causing her to fall.
Their minds were now blank, filled only with one thing:
Escape from the ghost they couldn't shake!
Behind them, Charles didn't run. He just walked at the same rhythm, his calm and unhurried steps feeling far more threatening than a frantic pursuit.
Finally, after running for what seemed like forever, until their lungs felt like they would explode, the two men spotted a small house they knew at the end of a quiet alley.
It was their hideout!
With their last remaining strength, they ran to the door, flung it open roughly, entered, then slammed it shut and immediately locked it with a heavy wooden bar.
In the darkness of the silent house, their backs leaned against the sturdy door, their bodies slumping to the floor. Their hearts pounded so hard in their chests, their ragged breaths sounding so loud in their own ears. Cold sweat drenched their entire bodies, their clothes feeling sticky and uncomfortable.
But, for the first time after minutes that felt like eternity, they felt safe.
"We... we made it..." Kenji gasped between breaths.
Hideo nodded, still unable to speak. They both closed their eyes, savoring the brief moment of relief, letting the darkness and silence of the house calm their tense nerves.
After a while, when their breaths had steadied, they slowly opened their eyes.
At that moment, in the middle of the dark room, a figure stood silently, as if he had been waiting there all along. The figure wore the same ronin attire, the same white fox mask, and in his hand, he held a pitch-black revolver, its dark muzzle pointed straight at them.
He stood so still, so calm, that he almost blended with the shadows, the only thing clearly visible being the faint reflection of light from the window on his expressionless mask.
The air in the two men's lungs seemed to freeze. They didn't scream. They couldn't. A pure and absolute fear had paralyzed their vocal cords. Their minds tried to comprehend this impossibility. How? How could he enter this locked house before us?
Charles, seeing the shock and horror in their eyes, finally moved. He raised his revolver a bit higher, then with a slow and deliberate motion, he cocked the hammer.
CLICK.
The sound was so loud and final in the silent room, as if marking the start of an execution.
He leaned forward slightly, his cold and emotionless voice emerging from behind the mask, shattering the torturous silence.
"Choose. Die..."
He paused, letting the word sink into their paralyzed minds, savoring every second of their fear.
"...or, take me to that shop."
...
A/N: Mate, I don't know if my translation is correct or not. I'm not really focused because I haven't slept at all :(
Btw, I'm still expecting comments!
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