Standing on the deck of the cruise ship, Inori answered Tsugumi's transmission. "Inori! I have something very important to tell you."
"Tsugumi? Why are you in Kurumi's room?" Inori tilted her head, puzzled. The background behind Tsugumi was unmistakable—it was Kurumi's private quarters.
"That's not the point! Listen, Kurumi might be working for GHQ!" Tsugumi's voice trembled with urgency.
"Oh," Inori replied, her expression calm. In truth, she had already suspected as much when Kurumi spoke with Segai earlier. But what did it matter? Kurumi's identity didn't change how Inori felt about her.
Even if Kurumi was GHQ, so what? Who said she couldn't be with someone from GHQ? If it came down to it, Inori would abandon the Funeral Parlor without hesitation. Because Kurumi—her beloved Kurumi—was far more important.
"What kind of reaction is that?! If she's GHQ, it means she approached you with ulterior motives! She's using you to destroy Funeral Parlor!" Tsugumi shouted.
Inori stared at her, her expression still blank. Ulterior motives? That had nothing to do with her. If Kurumi ever came into conflict with Funeral Parlor, Inori might be sad for a while... but she would still side with Kurumi. Always.
Because her bond with Kurumi was deeper—infinitely deeper—than anything she shared with the others. The Funeral Parlor was friendship. Kurumi was existence itself. Without her, Inori could not live.
"What's with that vacant look?! Has she brainwashed you this badly? Have you even considered that if Kurumi is GHQ, then everything she's done—her affection, her kindness—might be fake? That she's just using you?"
Inori's pink eyes suddenly widened to the limit. Her hand trembled around the communicator. A cold shiver ran through her entire body.
"Tsugumi..." she whispered faintly, her eyes losing focus.
"Yes, Inori? Are you finally seeing reason?"
"You liar!" Inori screamed, tears streaming down her face. With all her strength, she hurled the communicator into the sea. The splash echoed faintly across the dark water as she stood frozen on the deck.
"I gave you the name Inori."
She remembered it all. The day she met Kurumi. The warmth of her hand. The countless moments they'd shared. Those were real—she could feel it. No lie could erase them.
Kurumi had given her an identity when she had nothing. Kurumi had taught her how to live, how to smile, how to love. Without her, Inori wouldn't even exist. She refused to believe that anything about Kurumi was fake.
Tears still in her eyes, Inori began to run—through the corridors, toward the banquet hall. She needed to see Kurumi. She needed her to say it out loud: It's not a lie. None of it was a lie.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the charity auction will now begin! All proceeds will go toward the Infected Relief Foundation!" announced the host cheerfully.
A pair of burly men carried the first item onto the stage—a glass case draped in black cloth to keep the contents a mystery.
As the crowd gathered, a pink blur suddenly burst through a side corridor. Inori crashed right into the shrouded display, sending it toppling. The glass shattered with a sharp crack! and the hall fell silent in an instant.
"Inori!" Kurumi's worried voice cut through the stunned hush as she rushed forward. Something was wrong—Inori looked terrified, lost.
"Oh dear, my favorite porcelain piece!" gasped a noblewoman in a red gown, pressing a hand to her forehead. "I was planning to show it off tonight!"
"Who is this uncultured child? Running around at a formal event—how disgraceful!" the red-dressed lady snapped, fury flashing across her face.
"Inori, are you alright?" Kurumi knelt beside her, lifting her gently. But then her crimson eyes widened.
Inori was crying.
"How should we handle this damage? It's not about the money, of course, but this was a donation item for the Infected Relief Foundation! Without my contribution, my name won't appear among the donors!" The lady in the red gown pressed a hand to her forehead dramatically, feigning distress.
"Would you kindly—be quiet?" Kurumi tilted her head toward her, eyes glinting with a dangerous crimson light. The woman's face went pale as a sudden, inexplicable pressure forced her into silence.
"Inori, what's wrong? You're scaring me," Kurumi said softly, gently wiping away her tears.
"Kurumi-chan didn't lie to me... right?" Inori looked up at her, her voice trembling, eyes filled with pleading. She wanted—needed—to hear one word: No.
"Did someone say something to you?" Kurumi asked quietly.
"Kurumi-chan didn't lie to me... right?" Inori repeated, her gaze distant and hollow.
"You silly girl," Kurumi murmured, pulling her into her arms. "There are many things I haven't told you yet—but I've never once lied to you. Do you believe me?"
Inori nodded hard, burying her face in Kurumi's shoulder.
Kurumi smiled tenderly and lifted her chin. "And besides... I haven't told you everything because it's not time yet. My little angel, can you stop crying for me now?"
With a sweet smile, Kurumi took Inori's hand and helped her stand. Inori's cheeks turned pink, her dazed expression melting into dreamy adoration.
"Now then, can we talk about what you've done?" The red-dressed lady finally regained her voice, pointing sharply at Inori. "I won't lower myself to your level, but I demand an apology. Do that, and I'll forget this ever happened."
"Kurumi-chan..." Inori looked at her helplessly, unsure what to do. By all logic, she should apologize for breaking something. But somehow—just standing next to Kurumi—she couldn't bring herself to do it. It felt wrong, as if apologizing would somehow shame Kurumi.
"Inori, when you break something in a shop," Kurumi said with a light smile, "you buy it. So you'll have to buy this one too."
"Hmph." The red-dressed woman scoffed. "Buy it? Easier said than done. That porcelain cost me six million yen at auction three years ago. Do you really think a pair of girls without even proper gowns can afford it?"
"But Kurumi-chan, I don't have any money..." Inori lowered her head. All the income from her songs had gone to support Funeral Parlor's operations. She herself was penniless.
"If you don't have money, then apologize already. My patience has limits!" the red-dressed woman sneered, swirling her glass of wine smugly. "It's obvious you're bluffing."
Kurumi ignored her completely. Stroking Inori's hair, she said, "Oh, you poor thing. Then I'll give you a little pocket money."
She handed Inori a black card—an unrestricted one, the kind that didn't even need a PIN to use.
"Pocket money?" The red-dressed woman laughed derisively. "You think a bit of allowance money can buy my porcelain? Do you even know how expensive it is?" She lifted her chin proudly. Six million yen wasn't much to her—but for ordinary people, it was a lifetime's fortune. These two little girls pretending to be rich made her want to laugh.
"How much?" Kurumi asked, her eyes narrowing.
"Excuse me? You think you have the right to ask? Even if you combined your savings, you couldn't afford it. Be smart and apologize before GHQ gets involved." She took another sip of her wine, basking in her imagined superiority.
"How much?" Kurumi repeated, this time with a smile so cold it made the woman's stomach twist.
Feeling a flash of fear, the red-dressed lady quickly masked it with anger. "Since you insist—three years ago, a similar porcelain piece sold for seventy million yen at auction. Do you honestly think your pocket money could cover that?" She said it with relish, expecting to crush them completely.
"Alright, seventy million. Charge it." Kurumi turned to the auctioneer calmly.
"Wait!" The lady slammed her glass down. "This is fraud! If you really want to prove your wealth, then let's use a detailed transaction scanner!" She smirked triumphantly. "That way, we'll see exactly what's in your little card."
The auctioneer hesitated. "That device reveals all financial information of the cardholder, miss. It's normally used only under government supervision..."
"We don't mind," Kurumi replied sweetly on Inori's behalf.
Reluctantly, the auctioneer set up the machine and entered the seventy million yen charge. Inori slid the card in.
"Card balance: 5.7 trillion yen."
The lady in red laughed dismissively. "Five point seven... trillion? Hah! What a ridiculous—"
"Transaction complete. Insufficient balance threshold not met. Remaining balance: 5.7 trillion yen."
The laughter died in her throat. The entire room went silent.
Kurumi closed her fan with a soft snap and smiled. "I told you it was just pocket money."