Book 19 Chapter 3

How to make bed bug rice cakes

-Reaper Interview

"Your lordship is running late, isn't he?"

The five earrings dangling from the flamboyant young man's left ear jiggle nervously.

"He'll be right back."

A very sharp-eyed middle-aged man politely replied to the younger reaper.

"That's like the fifth time you've said that."

The young man's tone is naturally sharp.

"Gosh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have used that cliché, I should have known better. Next time you ask, I'll change it to something else."

Without changing his expression, the middle-aged man still replied politely.

"That means I have to wait longer!

Ishiguro's face crumpled as he realized that he had barely maintained the status quo.

He had to wait quite a while, despite being told 'he'll be right out'.

Just as the simmering anger was about to explode, the door to the Great War burst open.

"Oh, sorry Mian, I'm so sorry Hei, Nobu is a little late, isn't he?"

It was the Guanzhou Iron Fist Mazinger of the Heavenly Martial Academy who opened the door and casually walked through the tense atmosphere.

"I'm sorry. My bones ache with age. I've been having trouble walking. Big deal, big deal."

Even when I said it with a log-like forearm that could take down a bull with a single blow, it wasn't very convincing. It was more like a demonstration.

"I've already heard about your spectacular performance. You've already said hello to my children?"

The hulking old man strode across the great hall with a brisk stride and sat down on his tasseled throne.

"I'm sorry. I love socializing with people… I must have made a mistake."

Ishigaki replied, half bowing, and the old man, with his thick right hand on his head, struck out at an angle.

"No, no, I am of the opinion that the age of youth must now come to an end. It's good for us to interact with each other, and there are always small clashes along the way. I don't think you're frivolous or malicious enough to intentionally harm the friendship and cooperation between our two places. Young blood can do that. Don't you think?"

Feigning understanding, but with a bone in his body, the young man could only shakily reply.

"That's right, my lord!"

"But who's going to pay for that kid's severed wrist! What a pity."

Ishigaki's heart sank.

Indeed!

'Is the author the iron-fisted marginalizer of the Tianmu Academy's mantra, 'One Strike, No Interest'?'

The young man lifted his gaze slightly and looked at the hulking man sitting in the taiji. The elderly man, reminiscent of a castle of steel, still exuded an overwhelming power, as if he had never stopped practicing. But even in the face of such a formidable presence, the splendidly dressed young man maintained a supple posture, not wavering in the slightest.

Originally, being a reaper was not recommended for the faint of heart, as you always had to walk into enemy territory.

It is said that a reaper's head is not his own, for it can always be claimed by another. Therefore, there are three essential items that a reaper must carry with him: the reaper's wealth, a diplomatic letter with instructions, and a suicide note.

This was a battlefield, except there were no spears flying, and he liked the tension. The fact that everyone was wary of him was proof that he was important.

"Then the Reaper's Wealth!"

From within his bosom, Ishigan produced a half-dozen cards, along with a diplomatic note that was clearly written for the sole purpose of getting on his opponent's nerves.

There's a word that's often used in the world, but not often enough: conformance. It means to fit together. It refers to a hand that is divided in half. Since it was originally one hand, it fits perfectly when you put it together, and it is called matching. What if it doesn't match? It was a crime of impersonation, and it was quickly executed. People who claimed to be something they weren't were as plentiful as whales, and they were always a problem.

"Of course!"

After repeating the phrase "The Lord will be here soon" five times while in the position of "Military and Lord's Counselor," the snowy-eyed man approached Yi Shijian and politely accepted the Reaper's wealth.

Mazinger jumped to his feet and walked backwards, but Ishigan was unfazed by Mazinger's sudden abruptness. He knew that the steel giant had come to the front of a large vault. The red vault, with its flowers and butterflies and bees and orchids, looked outwardly like an ornate cabinet often found in the homes of the wealthy, but its inner structure was made of wrought iron. The ornately decorated wooden boards surrounding the outer shell were merely a means of aesthetically disguising the wrought iron vault.

Click!

Click!

The lock on the double-locked vault clicked open with a dull thud. With a heavy sound, the red door gradually opened its arms, revealing dozens of locked silk chests. Each one was labeled, each one bearing the name of a Martial Saint, Shaman Sect, Volcano Sect, Shanxi Branch of the Martial Saint, Hubei Branch of the Martial Saint, First Inspector, Second Inspector, Third Inspector, and so on.

The first thing Mazinger pulled out was a box labeled "The Temple of Heaven". It was wrapped in silk, but the inside was made of solid steel. This box also had a black, solid-looking lock, which he had grown tired of. What was inside the double- and triple-sealed box was not a jewel; it was a single, halved talisman that was carefully guarded within. At first glance, it looked like an insignificant iron plaque, but it was carefully wrapped in a red silk scroll like a precious treasure. He took it out with a careful gesture, as if he was worried that his dominant hand might break it. The wealth, one in each of his large hands, slowly merged in midair. The cut surfaces of the two cards fit together perfectly, and the images and words on them matched without a hitch.

A bent bow, a drawn quill, a single arrow wedged between them, and two words written underneath.

Battalion (待對).

In opposition to each other, yet dependent upon each other. No expression could better describe the relationship between the Temple of Heaven and the Temple of Heavenly Wisdom, but there are now few left who know or are conscious of the fact. At the moment of collectivization, no matter how brilliant the spirit of an organization, the pure spirit becomes a vainglorious ideology through a process of deconstruction and reconstruction by the scissors of desire and the needles of selfishness for the benefit of the group. The poison of ideology gradually paralyzes reason, eats away at wisdom, and eventually leaves one blind, deaf, and dumb, with a mad tongue. By then, facts are irrelevant. At the moment, it was no different in the Heavenly Martial Hall and the Heavenly Pavilion, where the minds of the battalions were at loggerheads, not caring whether a stray dog had bitten them or not, but growling and clashing because they couldn't eat each other.

"That's definitely a match(符合)!"

Only after going through the tedious bureaucratic process of merging two pieces of wealth into one and verifying that it was genuine, and after confirming the identity of the other party, did Mazinger break the seal on the letter he had been handed earlier and open it.

"I know it's a hassle, but you get the idea."

When Mazinger begged off, he waved Ishiguro off urgently.

"No, of course not, it's five times more complicated than that in our skyscraper, this is nothing."

"Well, that's a little reassuring to know that you understand. You know, your security checks are notoriously nerve-wracking."

'Si… nervous…….'

Instead of Mazinger's face widening, Ishiguro's face contorted slightly.

"It's a lot better than being insecure."

"I guess we'll take your advice and tighten up our security next time. Don't you agree, Mr. Thorne?"

"I will review it, my lord!"

It was too late to plead that I hadn't given such advice.

A time when identity and career fraud were the easiest ways to commit fraud. In an era when the fastest means of communication was handwritten letters, and telegraphy was reserved for a few special people, the question of how to verify the identity of the other party was a big topic of discussion, regardless of the industry. In particular, the military department, which handled military correspondence from the center to the periphery, was so careless about this that they became mentally ill. It was common knowledge that a simple stamp on a piece of paper was not enough to reassure the enemy. It was this "wealth" that was intended to reduce the frequency of mental illness in the army.

"It's a bit complicated and tedious, but I'm glad you understand that it's a process. It's a world where you never know who's going to suddenly take off their mask and do you harm, right? Not long ago, a trusted friend's coworker suddenly turned into a vicious arsonist, and we suffered a lot of damage. Luckily, we were able to put out the fire, but the damage was done. I've been doubly and triply careful ever since. It's a sad world, don't you think, when you can't trust anyone?"

His tone was soft and full of concern for a falling world, but that didn't mean his words couldn't strike others. The kite sword was also a black sword. It was a sword that could hurt an opponent at any time, and that was its real purpose. Gentleness was its greatest strength, its greatest weapon.

Yi Xiguan tensed his entire body as he felt the blood-plated katana flicker in front of him.

He wasn't the only one wielding a tongue sword.

"I don't know what the Temple of Heaven is thinking, sending a young fellow like that. I wonder if they realize the gravity of this matter."

"This is disrespectful to us!"

"That's right. We're being ridiculed!"

Hilnanzo's voice could be heard here and there. It was a distinctive shout, with the careful touch of pretending to be a whisper so that it would reach the right ears. 'You're a brat, and we're brainless, unthinking idiots for entrusting such a brat with an important position,' he said, roughly. It was a kind diplomatic gesture to apply psychological pressure to the still young novice diplomat so hard that he would shrivel up like an earthworm in the mid-heavenly sun.

Bam!

Suddenly, two rounds of applause echoed through the room. The gazes of the people, who were now openly venting their frustrations, gathered in one place. The man who clapped deliberately to draw attention to himself was the military and Guanzhou aide, Sun Wenqing.

"Come on, calm down, no, that's not necessarily the way to look at it, you're not an idiot either, are you?"

He said, scanning the faces of the people with his famously thin thread eyes.

"No, so you're saying you weren't stupid, military?"

One of the old men, whose fury had not yet subsided, exclaimed as loudly as if he had made the discovery of the century.

"Uh huh, no way……."

"Don't you think you've got it wrong, military?"

One disbelieving response after another followed. It was a deliberate response, and it worked better than he expected, his face flushed red and ready to explode. This position was asking too much of the normally patient, walled-off man.

"All right, all of you, stop it. You should be thinking about your body language in front of a young man, you're not worth the night."

Sun Tzu was more often called a soldier than an aide-de-camp, but this was not because the title valued his military and mercenary skills more highly than his ability to perform tasks and get things done. The title was used more often and more widely than the other, for the simple reason that the latter was shorter than the former. Paradoxically, however, his actual duties were more administrative than military. It was peacetime for now-and few would disagree with that fact-there were very few occasions when his military talents would be called upon unless there was an organizational struggle.

'Is the author really Eunmok Sun Moon Kyung?

Ishigaki glanced at the man whose name he had heard so many times since his time in the Great Hall, curiosity peeking out from behind his expressionless mask. It was indeed as rumored, but that didn't mean he was blind, just that his eyes looked like two straight lines with a slight break between them.

"I can't believe you can even see that.

That was my honest impression.

Usually, when you're in the military of such a large organization, you're going to have a lot of nicknames. Heavenly Qi, Heavenly Brains, Ten Thousand Beats, Ten Thousand Brains, Jay's Resonance, Conventional Resonance, Second Coming Resonance, Resurrection Resonance, and so on. But the man who carried a million words and a hundred thousand pieces of wisdom with him at all times was simply called "Shilun" because of his slightly unusual physical features. His official name, of course, was "Silver Eye," the nickname given to his hidden eye by many in honor of his knowledge, wisdom, and status, but he was much more often referred to unofficially as "Silent Eye." It was impossible to tell which of these titles he preferred, however, as it was just as difficult to see his mind as it was to see his eyes.

It is said that the only thing he cannot see through is his own eyes. With a sharp glint in her eye, Yi Xigan began to examine every inch of his face, as if she would not miss the slightest detail.

"So… the rumors were true.

Rumors always included Pal Hal's bluster, and it seemed that sometimes they were passed on intact. For a small price of frustration after so many years of observation, Ishigan could confirm it. True to its reputation, the Heavenly Martial Academy soldier's hidden eyes had prevented not only Sun Wukong himself, but anyone else from reading the pupils behind his two thin, slender lines. The inability to read his opponent's thoughts made the young reaper very uncomfortable.

So what does the author have to say?

Sun Moon Kyung did not disappoint him. Instead, he was enraged.

"I'm just guessing, but I'm sure they know, unless their brains froze in the freezing cold last winter, how much we care about this and how much we resent it. They're not ignorant or incompetent enough to not be able to read something as simple as this, and I think we need to start thinking about the hidden agenda behind what they know and why they've responded the way they have."

"You mean you did it knowing? Isn't that worse than not knowing?"

A worker threw up his hands in the air and asked, "How can I let this go?

"Well… I guess you could say that."

"How can you be so devious……."

Boom, boom, boom!

As if on cue, voices erupted from all directions, denouncing the wickedness of the Ten Thousand Pavilions. The barrage of accusations rained down on Yi Shiguan like a shower, but before he could find an excuse, the workers ignored him and retreated back into their world. Again, a worker spoke up.

"Well, let's assume for the moment that they are not fools. Which, to me, is still stupid. So, do you have any idea what their hidden intentions are, military?"

"If it's a little bit, I have an idea."

"Oh, yeah!"

There were exclamations of "Yes, indeed, the military!" all over the place.

"You, you old dog!

Yi Shi Gun was furious. But even if he had a reputation for arrogance, he couldn't go on a rampage here. All he could do was swallow his anger.

"What is it? We need to know what they're up to."

The hidden intentions had become a myth. People were beginning to believe that the Temple of Heaven had spent a hundred years plotting and scheming to make it look good.

"Um, please don't take this the wrong way. Coolly, calmly……."

"We're all calm!"

Chuckling, the old men replied.

"Well… I'm wondering if they're intentionally trying to undermine the gravity of what happened."

"That means……."

"Yeah, I mean they don't want that thing on the volcano to be front and center."

She replied with the tongue-in-cheek tone of someone who wants to hide something deep in their heart but is forced to share it because others want it so badly.

"It's that there's something they want to hide somehow.

Sun Tzu didn't say it, but everyone else at the tournament heard the hidden words.

It was disrespectful and against diplomatic protocol to speak directly to the Grim Reaper when he had both eyes open, but Ishigan could not protest.

He knew full well that it would backfire.

"How badly do you suck at this?

It was clear that he was going to be told the same thing, and that it would be for nothing more than to add the words "vicious, vile, and cautionary" to the evaluation section of his job. However, he decided to take back control of the conversation, knowing that it would be just as bad as staying silent.

"That's all a misunderstanding on your part. The President has made it clear that he is indeed sorry for the tragedy at the volcano."

It was a different kind of regret, but it was a regret nonetheless, and he was able to speak with sincerity in it. But Mazinga frowned, clearly unhappy with the words.

"I'm sorry? I hope you haven't forgotten who's responsible for this upset."

Ishigan felt the awl in those words.

"Of course we haven't forgotten. He was our man of the hour."

He didn't bother to add, "And it's also my ugly death sentence. He was too young and too vigorous to be someone else's meal.

"I won't thank you for not forgetting. But if you haven't forgotten, how's the investigation into him coming along?"

Don't just say you're sorry. Act on your regrets! That's what Mazinger was saying.

It was a question he'd already seen coming, so he pulled out his prepared answer.

"The investigation is ongoing."

Majinga's eyebrows rose slightly. At the same time, a terrifying momentum emanated from his huge body.

"Still under investigation?"

The reaction was expected, but the intensity was beyond my wildest dreams.

'Tremendous pressure…….'

The momentum was so strong that he thought his fist was going to crush his skull. But he chose to trust the discernment of someone who had been at the top of the organization for nearly three decades.

"Yes, my lord."

Silence descended for a moment. Ishigan fought the pressure that was relentlessly knocking at his door. He suppressed his killing intent, desperate not to draw his weapon. A heavy silence fell for a moment.

"…You mean you haven't caught it yet?"

Majinga sighed, then leaned back in her tasseled chair.

"The river is too vast. I can't even begin to fathom its vastness when you add up the places that aren't Gangho. We have far too few people in comparison. We're desperately trying to track it down, but it's unlikely to be easy. It's an investigation that will require persistence and patience. It's not going to be a quick fix."

Ishiguro congratulated himself on having his head intact.

"I'm more concerned that you're desperately trying to cover your tracks."

Mazinger's questions were still sharp, but a lot of the pressure that had been weighing on him was gone, and Ishigan was able to relax a bit.

"Hahaha, why would we do that, the damage wasn't just to the Heavenly Martial Academy, we suffered a lot of damage too."

"Maybe you're afraid of revealing what's behind it?"

Mazinger's piercing gaze swept over every inch of Lee's body. It was the kind of gaze that would not let a single mistake go unnoticed.

'I'm not sitting on a free ride, this is…….'

It's easy for young people to dismiss age as just another word for senility, but the age that comes with years of experience is not something to be ignored.

"I don't think it's unreasonable for you to suspect that, but it's an unwarranted suspicion. It's a hunch."

Ishiguro said forcefully, trying to keep the conviction in his words.

"Gyura……. I know it's normal to think the sky isn't falling, but as someone responsible for the safety of so many people, I can't help but worry that it is. Even if it's not our sky."

The mention of the name of the heaven being the Demon Heaven was omitted, but Yi Shi Gun understood it well enough.

"I'm worried about sending my kids to these questionable places that could fall apart at any moment. I'm worried."

The majinga sighed with regret and concern. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he suddenly felt all eyes on him, and he wondered if some of the more temperamental members of the group would decide to pounce on him for opening his skull. He was being outnumbered, but he had no other recourse, so he decided to just say something and see what happened.

"Suspicious? No, I mean, what's suspicious about what you see? Or is there something else you're worried about?"

It didn't take long for me to realize that I'd stuck a hump on him in an attempt to distract him.

"We agree that this incident is different in nature and purpose from their previous attacks."

"What do you mean by different?"

"Have you ever eaten bedbugs?"

Ishigan's eyes widened at the out-of-the-blue question.

"Haven't you tried it?"

"Of course… I tried it."

"So, did you try it?"

"I didn't get to try it myself."

He couldn't figure out what the old man was trying to say.

"That's too bad, then I'll walk you through the process."

Mazinga politely declined the request, though he was adamant that he did not need to know. Perhaps he didn't want to miss the opportunity to torment his young friend, so he began to describe the process in great detail, starting with the sowing of the wheat seeds, in a detailed and tedious way.

By the time Ishigan swallowed his second yawn, Mazinga had finally gotten the watered-down starch and vegetables-the same vegetables that the farmers had grown under the sun fighting off pests, the same clams that the seamaids had canned on the mudflats and then traveled vast distances to catch, and the octopus-the same octopus of vast history that the old fisherman had caught in the rough seas fighting off the ferocious waves. It had traveled vast distances, of course- sliced up and mixed in chaos with a little water; a wide pot on the fire-the very cooking utensil that was the result of blacksmiths taking up their hammers and fighting an alliance of fire and iron-was being ladled and flattened with oil, of course, the labor of many, on top.

"Am I boring you?"

"Uhm… uhm… oh, no."

With a third yawn, he snapped his mouth shut, and Mazinger didn't rebuke the seemingly rude response.

"So that means you have to cook it well."

"Hmm, I see."

Ishiguro replied with a look of sashimi in his stomach.

"But what happens if you cook it too much on one side?"

Ishiguro replied, vowing to himself that he wouldn't eat that bedbug rice cake for the next three years.

"I'll ride."

With common sense, he could answer.

"That's right, that's the difference!"

The overly geographical, fairly yawn-inducing, and ridiculously long-winded conclusion, as opposed to the ridiculously long-winded introduction, made Ishigaki look at Mazinger as if he'd been distracted by the bedbug rice cakes he'd eaten yesterday.

And then he said.

"Eh?"

His bewilderment was expressed in a very short sentence.

"I'm not quite sure I understand what you're saying?"

Not only did he not have the imagination and leaps and bounds to fill the vast void that exists between the bedbug buns and the thunderstorms, but he wasn't crazy.

"Apparently, they thought it was time to bring out the other side."

Mazinger stepped in to fill the gap.

"You mean you're going to flip it upside down?"

Like a sensible young man, he didn't call it a hot plate.

"Wham!"

Majinga gently pointed out.

I wasn't sure if I should say, "Yes, that's the answer!" and clap! I wondered if I should applaud. But he soon stopped. What he needed to do was create confusion: real for fake, fake for real. Just as the feathers had done so far.

"That's too big a job, do they have the capacity?"

I'm very, very, very suspicious, so why don't you be a little suspicious, too," said Mr. Ishiguro in a tone that suggested that he was. It was his job to stir up suspicion so intensely that he would have to change the correct answer to a wrong answer.

"That's the key. What does it take to flip a hot plate?"

"Are you a chef?"

Mazinger nodded.

"You'd have to have a centripetal force to technically flip the board. Otherwise, you're just going to end up with a whole bunch of bedbugs scattered all over the place, aren't you?"

Is it bedbug rice cakes again? Ishiguro thought to himself, hiding his bored expression behind his mask.

"You mean the chef showed up, and you've been complaining all this time?"

"I don't know if it's just showing up now, or if it's been there all along and I've just been sitting on the sidelines watching it ripen."

"Who would dare to take on such a big responsibility? To cook the mighty to their liking and turn them over at the drop of a hat? No one of that caliber could be created overnight, and the Absolute to back them up is still dead."

And usually the dead don't come back to life.

Once again, he ceded control of the conversation to Mazinger. He couldn't stop himself from talking.

"We suspect that there is a large organization behind this tragedy."

"Huge organizations? Surely not the ones from a hundred years ago?"

The organization was officially dead.

"Not really, but you know there's a group of people who claim to be their descendants."

Of course, he knew that much. He knew it too well.

"You mean the feathers?"

Mazinger nodded.

"That's right. They're called cowards."

The thought of those feathers alone made his anger overtake his reason, and his clenched fists shook. The damage they'd done to the flock was relentless and immense.

"Indeed. We've had a few sabotage attempts by the remnants of the Thousand Fears, but we didn't think it was anything to worry about, because they had no agenda, but we're beginning to wonder if it's time to change that. No one has seen the body of 'him' they claim is missing."

That fact alone would have forced the Murim to produce countless neurasthenic patients for a hundred years.

"In any case, isn't it just as well that we don't have one now? I don't think it's likely that they'd be so tightly knit as to remain without a master for over a hundred years, and a hundred years is a long time for any fiefdom to cool its enthusiasm."

Pair!

Suddenly, the marginalizer clapped.

"That's it!"

"Yes?"

Startled by the unexpected applause, Ishiguro asked in a hushed voice.

"That's the problem, they're never rich."

"I would appreciate it if you could help me recover my amnesia?"

"Since they are not rich, there is a figure who enforces their order all the more. I wouldn't call him a watcher, but an administrator."

"Do you mean to say that there is a being that can act as a substitute for the immense presence and dominance of the Heavenly Blood God, because I think that would be daydreaming?"

Several people frowned when the pronouns changed to their real names, nay, real aliases(?).

"Honestly, I shudder to think of how powerful a presence you have to have."

He shuddered involuntarily at the strangely realistic sensation. The sensation was so real that it was imprinted on his body and mind.

Mazinger asked in a hushed voice.

"Have you ever heard of the name 'Four Horsemen'?"

Ishigan could feel his body shuddering in silence.

Four Heavenly Destroyers!

The Shadows of Terror, the four emissaries of death who walked beside the Fearless Blood God, synonymous with fear and death! They ruled with fear, sowing despair. They were said to listen to only one man, and most major decisions were made by them.

They all wore masks made of bronze, and only two people knew their true identities: the Salt King of Hell, the master of life and death, and the Heavenly Blood God, the god of temporal death, but their power was said to be tremendous and terrifying, blood and death itself.

But now the name sat on top of a hundred years of dust. After the defeat of the Thousand Fiends, the name had been cast into the dust pit of oblivion, and no one had bothered to dust it off.

A moment ago, Mazinger had dusted himself off and pulled out a hundred-year-old artifact.

"Well, didn't they all die a hundred years ago?"

Mazinger shook his head.

"That's what the official announcement says, but like most official announcements, it hides a lot behind it. I wasn't there, but I only learned the truth later from the elders, who told me that the only ones whose deaths were directly confirmed were Nan Tian, who was dismembered into ten pieces by Mu Xin's Red Blade Blue Sword, and Dong Tian, who was cut into nine pieces by Mu Xin Ma's Great Heavenly Sword."

"Do you know anything about what happened to the West Heaven and the North Heaven?"

"The Three Heavenly Emperors have cornered the West Heaven with a united front, but unfortunately, they have only wounded it severely. The thought of not being able to eradicate evil brought the Three Kings to their knees, and the whereabouts of Beitian, the most feared man in Sichuan, have been unknown since the Great War. Some say he has feigned death and hidden himself, but no one knows his whereabouts and no one can confirm the rumors."

"Then why are you so eager to bring them back from the oblivion of the past……."

Though he hadn't asked, he knew the answer, and as if reading his mind, Maginga nodded vigorously.

"We think they're still alive."

Ishiguro cursed under his breath.

"If that were all there was to it, I might be relieved. But then it occurred to me… the horrible thought that those powerful men might be cloaking themselves in the finest camouflage of the Death Shroud, infiltrating everywhere and taking control of major organizations."

As he did so, Mazinger stared into Ishigan's eyes with sharp, glowing black eyes. It was as if he wanted to tear out the window and look inside.

He would have bet his life that the organization's name would be a household word.

"Why are they rattling off their deductions? It's like they're bragging about what they've figured out.

He had to compose himself desperately not to show his agitation. That is a stone, deliberately thrown into the lake to create ripples…….

Bragging? No way. You don't gossip about top-secret things to people outside the organization for such trivial reasons. It was clear from the pale faces of the labor and management that the facts were closely guarded secrets. Obviously, they were things that could cause a lot of confusion if they were leaked to the outside world. What is the reason for such confidentiality?

A cold sweat drenched his back. Goosebumps raced over his skin at a furious pace, but the part of his face that was outside of the covering, the part that hung upward, remained calm-no, he tried to pretend.

He knew that there were four sets of eyes staring at him, intent on catching not only his every move, but also the slightest twitch in the corners of his eyes.

Two of them were things I wouldn't have seen without some sort of coercive action, but that doesn't dilute the horror of it.

I was terrified.

After that, I have no idea how the meeting went. His mouth must have been working hard and he must have been saying something, but he couldn't make out a single word of what he was saying. He must have answered Mazinger's questions mechanically, like an automatic reflex doll.

"…What would you do with the lodging? We've set up quarters for the reapers, so why don't you go there to unwrap and relax?"

It was only when the words left Mazin'ga's lips that Ishigan realized that the meeting was over. Ishigaki's gruff voice pierced his still dazed ears.

"Why, you don't like this place?"

I had to say something.

"No, but I already have a place in mind. That's where I'd like to rest, to take the weight off my shoulders."

At that moment, the smile on Majinga's face offended Ishigan.

"Do what you want. If you don't like it here, you can't do it."

"I'll only accept gratitude."

He didn't want to be in this damned place for a second. A vague sense of defeat plagued him. He gritted his teeth. But his eyes were still smiling. There were still things to say, things to postpone.

"Then I'll see you at the next interview."

As the first official envoy to visit the Academy of Heaven and Earth in a long time, he still had a lot of work to do. Even if he didn't want to, he would have to stand in this position again, or a similar one.

"But did you solve anything today?

He found himself losing trust. He was unsure.