"Doctor, is there any medicine that can increase physical sensitivity without harming the body?"
"…There is. But I would need to place an order."
"Then I'll trouble you, Doctor! You know I have a boyfriend!"
"..."
Inside the small clinic, Mori Ougai stood there holding the deposit, looking utterly disheveled in the wind after Asou Akiya had clearly explained his request and then promptly run off.
This… is the so-called "Port Mafia Analyst"?
After being seen through so thoroughly by Asou Akiya in the past, Mori Ougai had used his underground clinic to conduct a careful inquiry into the man. Upon learning of Akiya's reputation in the underworld, he suddenly understood the nature of the other man's ability—an eye for detail that perceived the subtle from the obvious, coupled with analytical skills far beyond those of ordinary people. This was precisely the kind of rare talent that even government departments longed desperately to recruit.
In recent years, the only person said to rival him was the legendary detective known as "Senrigan"—the Clairvoyant.
However, it was rumored that this man was already deceased.
Mori Ougai had once followed the path of a military physician and had looked down upon criminal syndicates like vermin. Yet he had witnessed with his own eyes the Port Mafia's conduct during the war and the protection they had afforded to ordinary civilians. Based on his own judgment, the Port Mafia remained a mafia organization—but it was clear that Asou Akiya had played no small role in shaping its current state.
Who could have anticipated that this remarkable man would also be so unconventional—disliking beautiful women, preferring beautiful men, and, in order to avoid being drained dry in bed by his French lover, actually coming to him to buy medicine just as his injury leave was about to end?
Did he think this was some kind of adult novelty shop?
If he wanted medication, couldn't he simply have the Port Mafia's own hospital prescribe it for him? Just because Mori Ougai had chosen to practice as an underground doctor did not mean he was one hundred percent guaranteed not to leak details about his patients' private lives!
Mori Ougai swallowed his complaints and muttered bitterly, "Why give me so much money? Now I feel embarrassed to refuse."
He counted the cash and slipped it into the pocket of his white coat—at least this month's food expenses were secured. In this era, specialized pharmaceuticals were expensive; most imported medicines had to be obtained through smuggling, and running a clinic came with countless other difficulties. Many patients had terrible tempers, and he often failed to collect the full consultation fee.
A calico cat sat crouched on the windowsill, staring at Mori Ougai with disdain as he guiltily pocketed the money.
Pathetic.
After losing his position as a military doctor, had he even lost the integrity of a top graduate from the University of Tokyo?
Once Mori Ougai finished taking out the trash and went back inside, the calico cat departed soundlessly. Lately, it had been extremely busy—so busy that it longed for retirement. But before it could rest easy and let go, it had to secure a suitable successor. Fortunately, although Japan was struggling externally, the country was not lacking in domestic talent; it had already unearthed several promising candidates.
The government assassin and one of the "Five Swords," the swordsman known as the Silver Wolf—Fukuzawa Yukichi.
The former military doctor and proposer of the Immortal Regiment on Tokoyami Island—Mori Ougai.
The son of the "Clairvoyant," a prodigy of deduction—Edogawa Ranpo.
The Port Mafia's Analyst, intelligence broker, and a financial manipulator misplaced in the wrong profession—Asou Akiya.
The ace assassin, a boy with a near-prophetic instinct for danger—Oda Sakunosuke.
And finally, at the very end…
The calico cat padded onward for a while, heading to observe the Port Mafia's combat squad. Within its round, luminous brown eyes was reflected the figure of a foreign man who seemed sensitive to the cold. He stood taller than many Japanese men; compared to the broad frames common among Europeans, he appeared somewhat slender and fine-boned. Even beneath his winter overcoat, the distinct line of his waist was visible. His jet-black hair, falling naturally to his lower back, possessed a romantic air without giving off any affected or effeminate impression.
Randou's features were strikingly handsome, his gaze tinged with melancholy. There was no aggression in his demeanor; his temperament was as refined and understated as an orchid, lacking the overwhelming, soul-stirring intensity that seized one's breath. Amid a group of burly and rough-edged mafia combatants, he stood out as something entirely different.
He was a solitary and elegant Frenchman.
From outward appearances alone, it would be difficult to imagine that such a person could harbor a love so passionate and fervent.
Of course, that description applied only to the daytime.
At night, in front of his lover, Randou was a completely different person. Had the calico cat not witnessed firsthand the ardent romance between Randou and Asou Akiya, it too would have believed that Randou was the same inside and out—that his true nature was simply one that wished to avoid dealing with others.
The calico cat's molars throbbed faintly; eating too many sweets always came with minor aftereffects.
[Just what is this man's background?]
[His identity is a complete blank. He is suspected of having stowed away to Japan during the war. The earliest records place him near the Yokohama foreign settlement, but after two years, too many clues have been destroyed.]
[On the day the military base in the Yokohama settlement exploded, this man was gravely injured yet, by sheer fortune, did not die. He was sent in time by Asou Akiya to a hospital under the Port Mafia's control. According to that boy Akiya, Randou is a French poet. They met and fell in love three years ago. After Randou lost his memory, Akiya devoted himself wholeheartedly to caring for him, rekindled their past love, and the two reconciled as before—ultimately, he embraced his beauty and returned home victorious.]
The calico cat keenly sensed that there was something wrong within Asou Akiya's account, yet no matter how it searched, it could not uncover a flaw.
[I have also read Jean Nicolas's poetry collection. It is a rare and remarkable work.]
It scratched beneath its chin.
[His identity as a poet is not fabricated.]
That air of melancholy suited those foreigners who pursued spiritual freedom, only to find themselves crushed by reality.
[The two youngsters being in love… that is real as well.]
Randou was secretly playing with his phone inside the pocket of his overcoat, texting his lover at headquarters.
The fragrance of love cannot be counterfeited.
With every breath, there was a sweetness as warm and fervent as summer.
The calico cat judged Randou to be "safe," and not without reason—Asou Akiya had vouched for him. Details the cat itself could not detect would surely be noticed by Akiya, who lived side by side with Randou day after day.
[The war has already ended. If he were a foreign spy, in theory those who were meant to leave would have left. This man is a spatial-type ability user; the specifics of his power are unknown, and he must be concealing something. I refuse to believe it is as simple as they claim. If France were aware of his situation, would they truly allow an ability-based intelligence operative to remain in Japan, indulging in romance?]
After turning the matter over and over in its mind, the calico cat concluded that it might have to borrow someone else's strength.
It wanted to uncover Randou's true identity.
Otherwise, for Asou Akiya—who was caught in the whirlpool of love—and for Yokohama City itself, Randou would remain a ticking time bomb. So long as his past did not implicate matters of national interest, the cat was willing to turn a blind eye.
After all… the man had lost his memory. He deserved the right to begin his life anew.
When Randou inadvertently glanced twice in the calico cat's direction, the cat grew alert and darted into the bushes. Snowflakes settled upon its fur and along its back, making it shiver from the cold—truly, a single layer of fur was not enough to keep warm in winter!
Old, old—so old that even eating sticky rice cakes made its teeth ache.
"A cat?"
Randou noticed the rustling in the bushes. So it had been a calico cat watching him. Ah, one special note: he had seen it once before—the calico cat that shared a good relationship with Akiya.
He said softly, "I hate cats the most."
One cat after another keeps trying to sneak into the home I share with Akiya, dividing his attention!
If it really comes to that—
Next time, perhaps I should test whether Illuminations can read an ordinary cat as an ability-born cat. I am, after all, a very tolerant person. I have always regarded the corpses within Illuminations as my own possessions; I would never stoop to feeling jealous of mere tools.
The calico cat that had fled shook out its fur and let out a feline version of a sneeze.
[This is bad. I've caught a chill.]
…
At the end of January, February was just around the corner.
Edogawa Ranpo was jointly entrusted by his two guardians to the care of Fukuzawa Yukichi, a man of proven and upright character.
The teahouse where Fukuzawa Yukichi was having a meal with him was the same place Oda Sakunosuke had once frequented. By now, that red-haired teenage assassin had begun deliberately keeping his distance from them, repeating the same cycle over and over: accepting assignments —> being reported by someone —> attempted murder —> going to prison and eating prison rations —> being released on bail —> and then, more than likely, heading back to prison the next time.
Edogawa Ranpo gulped down a mouthful of the rather unpleasant tea and began to complain vehemently about the adults at home, "Grown-ups are just too impatient. He's barely finished recovering from his injuries, and they already want to stick to each other every single moment!"
Fukuzawa Yukichi advised him objectively, "Ranpo, you must leave them some private space."
Edogawa Ranpo looked at the only guardian accompanying him with wounded eyes.
"I do avoid them!" he insisted, declaring that he had learned to read the atmosphere and had made considerable progress. "I really do! When they're kissing at home, I always pretend I didn't see anything!"
Fukuzawa Yukichi felt a trace of embarrassment and did not wish to continue this line of conversation. "Ranpo…"
Edogawa Ranpo said excitedly, "Uncle Fukuzawa, you absolutely must not fall in love. Falling in love lowers your IQ! Someone as brilliant as Akiya occasionally turns foolish, and the main reason is Mr. Randou! If you also become that kind of adult whose mind is filled with nothing but nonsense, then I won't have anywhere left to go."
Fukuzawa Yukichi gazed with quiet world-weariness at the tea stems reflected in his cup.
"Mm."
At the age of thirty-three, the Silver Wolf had lived far too earnestly, and to this day had never been in a single romantic relationship.
In the past, he simply had no time.
Now… he had no energy, and had no desire to attend arranged meetings.
The aura of a man destined for lifelong bachelorhood radiated from the silver-haired man so strongly that anyone within ten meters could sense it.
Meanwhile, in the home of Edogawa Ranpo—where drawers were stuffed with cheap snacks and toys—the doors were locked and the curtains drawn. Asou Akiya made thorough preparations, determined to devote himself today to pampering his long-haired French cat, who had "suffered" for three months. That soft fur, those long limbs, and those misty, sorrowful eyes—all of it transformed into flames that ignited passion.
French kitty wants cuddles.jpg
Endure it? Any man who can endure that is not a qualified cat owner!
"Randou, tonight I'm spending it with you alone." Asou Akiya pushed aside the children, the work, everything—leaving the office early, even taking half a day off for tomorrow morning—so he could properly accompany his lover.
Love requires careful tending.
He had nurtured this French rose into such beauty that he wished he could embed it in his heart, letting it drink his blood, all so that the grace and brilliance of Arthur Rimbaud would not fade away in Japan.
Inside, the air conditioner was set to 27°C. The humidifier hummed softly, exhaling white vapor so the room would not become too dry. On the windowsill, the resilient potted greenery drooped listlessly; it could not adapt to the "French rose's" growing conditions and could only barely cling to life.
"Akiya, I've missed you."
Randou lay on the large bed in the bedroom, his gaze carrying a hint of laughter, his long black curls spread out.
Gently, Asou Akiya slid away the striped red scarf he had given him from beneath the other man's hair. A stretch of neck hidden beneath it was revealed; faint blue veins were visible along the side, possessing a special beauty beneath skin pale and almost translucent like milk. Next, he unfastened the coat buttons one by one, supporting Randou's waist with his hand. The formal waist sash and black trousers seemed to merge into one, outlining the supple curve of waist and hips.
Truly captivating.
Asou Akiya adored this trait of Randou's: wrapped up tightly in public so others could not steal even a glance, yet inwardly aristocratic and obsessively attentive to detail.
He might tease him every time, but who would not want their spouse to love beauty and remain forever youthful and radiant?
He was faithful to Randou's body and soul.
"Hurry up—don't waste our time. I've waited for you for three months." Randou hooked his arms around Asou Akiya's neck and tugged at the man's tie with his teeth, blending Japanese and French flirtation with perfect timing. "Faisons l'amour. (Let's make love.)"
He was acting spoiled.
Those who are loved naturally learn how.
Asou Akiya wanted to clutch his heart. He looked down on couples whose love burned out after only a few years—if two people pursued one another with enough fervor, even the most ordinary days could feel as intoxicating as being in the throes of first love.
The thought of "sleeping together is already a win" vanished completely. What he wanted was total possession of the other.
—I want everything you are.
Again and again, Asou Akiya whispered to him, "Je t'aime. (I love you.)"
When emotion reached its depths, love grew dense and overwhelming.
The next day—
Asou Akiya achieved an unprecedented victory.
He had made Randou unable to get out of bed, and the two of them took leave together. Randou gazed at him resentfully, the corners of his eyes flushed red beneath the blankets, pitifully covering his waist with both hands… though what the French beauty truly wanted to cover was lower still. Because of a special medication, his body had become overly sensitive; he had been tormented terribly the night before, and one particular place was now red and swollen.
Randou jabbed a finger fiercely into Akiya's chest and said unwillingly, "You played dirty."
Asou Akiya had long since abandoned any sense of shame as he nuzzled the French cat he had raised with such care.
"Randou is too cute—your screams are even cuter."
Sending Ranpo away had been the right decision.
Otherwise, Asou Akiya and Randou could never have played this freely; how could he possibly have heard Randou pleading for mercy? That was practically the first time in Arthur Rimbaud's life that he had admitted defeat.
The reason was simple: his body could no longer endure it.
Asou Akiya silently gave Mori Ougai a mental thumbs-up. As expected of a man he had once admired—his ability certainly hadn't been given the name "Vita Sexualis" for nothing; he understood exactly what was needed.
Many thanks, Mori-sensei. Next time I'll make sure you earn an even bigger tip—no more surviving on instant noodles!
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