After waking from a night of exhaustion and ecstasy on the civic center chair, Steve started a new chapter of life. He didn't squander the 500,000 yen he'd earned so painfully, knowing it was just the foundation for his future plans. Luxury and pleasure were poison now—a demon that would sap his fighting spirit.
So, the next morning, Steve first found a cheap business hotel, took his first hot bath in a month, purified himself, and tried to scrub off as much of the suspicious odor as possible. Then he went shopping in the commercial district for a few decent but inexpensive changes of clothes.
Refreshed, he stood before the mirror and began the second stage of his plan: the crazy multiplication of his capital.
Centered on Misaki City, he rode trams like a tireless business investigator, "touring" pachinko parlors in neighboring cities. He strictly stuck to his rule: never win more than 500,000 yen at any one shop, and leave immediately if he did. [Astonishing Wisdom] made him invincible in this battle of probability. His self-control and rationality kept him out of avoidable trouble.
But a serious problem soon appeared: large amounts of cash. With no account, he couldn't apply for a bank card. His suitcase got heavier every day, and dragging it through cities at night made him a tempting target for criminals.
He desperately needed a safe deposit box—a "human flesh bank" he could absolutely trust.
After some thought, he finally found the perfect candidate—a silent young man with purer eyes than Tanjiro: Soujuurou Shizuki.
His naivety, ignorance of modern social rules, bone-deep sense of "repaying kindness," and their small friendship over the past month made him the ideal partner.
…
A few days later, behind "Kontsuki," Steve found Soujuurou resting again. First, he handed over a hot drink, watching Soujuurou accept it with a bit of suspicion. Then, taking a deep breath, Steve spoke as honestly as possible:
"Soujuurou-kun, I have something important to ask."
Looking him in the eye, Steve spoke word by word. "First, I want you to know—I'm a 'black household' (unregistered resident). To solve my identity problem, I need a lot of money. Otherwise, the police could catch and deport me at any time."
Soujuurou listened quietly, showing no surprise, as if Steve was just another normal label like "student."
Steve went on: "And… I have a special way to make money quickly. But I have nowhere to keep it safe."
He pointed to the suitcase at his feet. "It's too dangerous to carry this much cash around every day, so I want to make a deal. I want to deposit all my savings in your bank account. When I need to use the money, you can come with me to make withdrawals. In return, after I'm done, I'll give you 1% of the total as a reward. The amount might… be more than you can imagine."
After saying this, Steve anxiously watched Soujuurou. This was a huge gamble—betting on his understanding of human nature from both the original story and their actual contact over the past month.
Soujuurou was silent, staring down at the hot drink in his hand, seemingly thinking. The few seconds of silence felt like a century to Steve. Finally, Soujuurou looked up, his eyes still calm:
"I don't really understand… household registration and money management are important. But Natsu-kun, you're in trouble, right?"
Steve nodded vigorously.
"You want me to help you keep your money, then pay me afterward?"
Steve nodded again.
"Alright," Soujuurou concluded. "It's a promise—I'll help. When do you want to save the money?"
Steve could hardly believe his ears. No suspicion, no doubt, no greed for a fortune—just the simple words, "I'll help." The heaviest stone in his heart was replaced by a complex mix of joy at his plan's success and guilt at using the other's simplicity.
He bowed deeply, and they arranged a daily time and place to meet.
…
For the next month, Steve's life entered a wonderfully hectic rhythm. During the day, while Soujuurou was in school or doing chores in the Kuonji estate, Steve was on the first shuttle bus to a strange city, hunting prey in the pachinko parlor like a cold-blooded predator, then dragging a suitcase full of cash back to Misaki Town by evening.
At night, Soujuurou would appear at the fast food shop door on time, and together they'd deposit bills into an unfamiliar account at the ATM. Every time they saved, Steve treated Soujuurou to a lavish dinner. Seeing the other eat so heartily brought Steve a strange sense of relief.
There was still little conversation between them, but a silent trust and understanding grew between earning and receiving, eating and being fed.
At the same time, Steve's other line of work continued—using newspapers, magazines, and underworld rumors, he constantly gathered information about Misaki City's local underground organizations with [Astonishing Wisdom]. After long-term analysis of their territory, style, and reliability, he finally targeted the group "Misaki Kōgyō." Ostensibly a legitimate real estate company, it secretly controlled most of the local underground industry and was known for "professionalism" and "reliability."
After a month, when Soujuurou's account had swollen even beyond Steve's own expectations, he took the final step in his plan. Through a broker, he arranged to meet a "business manager" from Misaki Kōgyō in a high-end teahouse's private room. The contact was a middle-aged man in a suit and gold-rimmed glasses—more refined than any corporate white-collar worker.
There was no small talk:
"Tourist visa—I need status that can withstand routine police checks, the longer the validity, the better," Steve said directly.
The man just pushed his glasses, smiled, and quoted a sky-high price. Steve didn't bargain, but nodded calmly. "Okay. Three days from now, same time, same place—I'll bring cash, you bring the goods."
…
Three days later, the deal was done. Steve received a well-forged tourist visa and matching passport copy under the name 'Steve Weis'.
Returning to his cheap, rented apartment, he closed the door, placed the small card under the lamp, and examined it carefully. Relief spread through his entire body. He let out a long sigh and collapsed onto the tatami.
This card marked the end of Steve's two-month career as a "black household" in this world. Thin and light, it weighed a thousand pounds in his hand.
This was the first cornerstone of Steve's foothold in this world—a ticket to the future, bought with wisdom, sweat, and a gamble on human nature.