Tokyo… really was a good place.
From the perspective of the King of Curses, Mizunotsuki Seiren, the city glittered like a mountain of gold.
Negative emotions rose endlessly from its streets—stress, resentment, despair, anxiety. With the slightest provocation, all of Tokyo could be pushed into chaos.
But Seiren would never commit something as foolish as draining a pond to catch fish.
The very nature of the Fraud System dictated that he coexist with intelligent life.
Whether or not it meant being bound by certain constraints was irrelevant.This was the system he had obtained, and reality did not change just because one complained.
So Seiren adapted.
People died every day in this world.
Death was not an anomaly—it was a statistic.
What Seiren needed to do was not to create unprecedented slaughter, but to adjust the existing numbers. To guide deaths toward the threshold required for a "spiritual revival," without exceeding society's capacity for self-repair.
As long as the bloodshed remained below that invisible line, it was nothing more than background noise.
The same applied to Japan.
If what Seiren caused was no greater than the countless tragedies that already occurred each year, then from the nation's perspective, it was barely an irritation.
After all—
Wasn't there a certain so-called "death god" who seemed to encounter murder wherever he went?
Even if he wasn't as exaggerated as in legends, reports of solved murder cases still appeared from time to time.
Having identified the acceptable limits of the current stage, Seiren settled on his approach.
The reins had to remain in his hands.
Between reckless play and sustainable control, the latter was obviously superior.
Seiren sat alone in an unused classroom, one he had officially applied for as an extracurricular activity space.
As a second-year student at Sobu High School, joining a club was mandatory—whether one participated seriously or not.
But Seiren was lazy.
In both his past and current life, he had long lost interest in playing enthusiastically with groups of teenagers.
Being alone suited him better.
So he applied to establish a club called "Social Observation."
Ordinarily, such an obviously vague club proposal would never pass.
But Seiren was an exceptional student.
Even in the most recent grade-wide exam, he had ranked first—surpassing even Yukinoshita Yukino.
Excellent students enjoyed privileges.
Before his memories awakened, Seiren's social circle had been simple. Aside from a certain teacher who enjoyed meddling in students' lives, few paid him special attention.
That had changed.
Now, with his growth and refined appearance, curiosity naturally followed.
Seiren paid it no mind.
He gazed out the window at the still-bright sky and checked the time.
It was about right.
After a small test run—
It was time for the main course.
Elsewhere
"What!? There's a case? Got it—I'm on my way!"
The call ended abruptly.
Kudo Shinichi grabbed his things and rushed out after saying a hurried goodbye to his childhood friend.
"Tsk… He's always like this. The moment there's a case, nothing else matters."
Suzuki Sonoko complained, only to have her mouth hurriedly covered.
"Sonoko!" Ran scolded softly. "That's rude."
Sonoko rolled her eyes.
What was so great about Kudo, anyway?
Every time something happened, he abandoned Ran without hesitation—and called it justice.
Justice, my foot.
If it weren't for that foolish sense of righteousness, how could he be so blind?
"I'm telling you, Ran," Sonoko said seriously, "you should find someone considerate. Preferably handsome."
Ran forced a smile.
"…Like who?"
"Mizunotsuki Seiren," Sonoko replied immediately. "I checked. Same school as us. I met him on the train."
Ran blinked.
Her best friend's enthusiasm for handsome boys seemed to be escalating.
Tokyo — Suginami Ward
Trouble.
That was the word that best described the situation.
Kudo Shinichi's initial excitement faded the moment he arrived at the scene.
The case was… wrong.
"So? What do you think, Kudo?" Inspector Megure asked, watching his expression closely.
Beside him, Officer Takagi waited nervously.
The victim lay inside a spacious apartment.
Inoue Mura.
A middle-class businessman.
Dead.
He lay in a pool of blood, a fruit knife clutched in his hand. A deep cut marked his throat. His face was frozen in terror.
Suicide?
Kudo rejected that conclusion instantly.
He knew the victim's background.
Inoue Mura enjoyed life. He had wealth, habits, and no apparent reason to end things.
The motive didn't add up.
"Then… murder?" Takagi ventured.
Inspector Megure shot him a look.
Didn't it look like self-inflicted wounds?
Kudo frowned.
Something felt off.
The apartment was sealed. Officers moved methodically, collecting evidence. Outside, the crowd had already gathered—curious onlookers and journalists kept at bay.
This wasn't an ordinary case.
Suginami Ward housed many well-off residents.
And when people with money died inexplicably, pressure followed.
Someone had already spoken behind the scenes.
Rich people weren't supposed to die like this.
If Inoue Mura could die today, who would be next?
Suicide?
Slitting one's own throat?
Absurd.
Inspector Megure straightened his posture.
This case wasn't going to be brushed aside.
And unknowingly—
This death marked the first ripple.
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