The black car screeched to a halt in the middle of the road. Michael jumped out, gazing at the Corp sign atop the distant building.
Seeing the impenetrable crowd, he sighed. He could have teleported, but he didn’t want to frighten the Corp employees. Besides, he couldn’t directly intervene. He wasn’t going to stage another "jailbreak." So he’d let Little Black drive him.
He’d underestimated Corp’s influence. Compared to Schicksal’s St. Freya, Anti-Entropy’s Far East branch had a much higher profile. St. Freya quietly trained Valkyries, while Corp handled Anti-Entropy’s finances, making discretion difficult.
News of Ryōma’s arrest had drawn every dia outlet in the Far East, forcing Michael to park a kiloter away.
Cars were haphazardly parked everywhere, blocking the road. Reporters, ard with microphones and selfie sticks, broadcast live from their vehicles. From this distance, Michael couldn’t hear what they were saying.
The faint wail of an ambulance siren grew closer. Probably a traffic accident. Though with the current congestion, the ambulance would never reach the injured.
Michael shook his head. Despite the advancents, despite humanity’s evolution, they remained predictable.
Humans were humans. Five millennia hadn’t changed them.
Michael blended into the crowd, vanishing behind a van.
The van driver, smoking nervously, saw a flicker in his side mirror. He turned, peering closer. Nothing.
Michael reappeared in the Corp lobby. He’d worried about startling people, but the lobby was already in chaos. The receptionist and security guards huddled in a corner, like ostriches burying their heads in the sand. Police officers blocked the entrance, holding back a throng of reporters, pushing and shoving, clamoring for entry.
Michael recognized several prominent journalists and news anchors, their usual composure gone, makeup sared, dark circles under their eyes, clearly having rushed to the scene without even bothering to get ready.
Michael blinked, watching them reach through the police line, like zombies in a movie, their shouts blending into an indistinct roar.
He knew what they were yelling: questions, accusations. A pointless exercise, but the sight of Corp surrounded by police was too exciting to ignore. And with everyone shouting, silence felt like unprofessionalism. The combined voices ford a aningless cacophony, further reinforcing the zombie analogy.
He stepped towards them. The reporters, seeing a man in a suit approaching, assud it was an Corp representative, their frenzy intensifying.
Michael shook his head, disgusted by their behavior. He stopped, not because he’d changed his mind, but because the elevator doors opened, revealing a familiar figure.
"Everyone! I am Komatsu, the current head of Corp’s Public Relations Departnt!"
i’s forr driver. He stepped out of the elevator, his booming voice capturing the reporters’ attention, diverting them from Michael.
"Mr. Komatsu, we heard CEO Raiden Ryōma was dismissed by the board for embezzlent. Is this true?"
"What? Isn’t it financial fraud?"
Before Komatsu could speak, the reporters argued amongst themselves, each believing their "inside information" was accurate.
Komatsu spotted Michael. He hurried over, whispering, "What are you doing here? Is i alright?"
Michael shook his head vaguely.
"Don’t worry, she’s at school. Information travels slowly there. She probably doesn’t know yet."
Komatsu eyed Michael suspiciously, but this wasn’t the ti to discuss i. "The CEO is in trouble. Is there anything you can do, Mr. Michael?"
As Ryōma’s forr driver, Komatsu was more than just an employee. He was Ryōma’s confidant. He might not know Michael’s true nature or past actions, but he knew two things: Michael was Ryōma’s "private associate," not officially connected to Corp, and Ryōma occasionally sought his advice.
That was enough. Seeing Michael, his first instinct was to ask for help.
Michael shook his head. "It’s complicated. Deal with your situation first."
Komatsu’s anxiety was evident, but Michael was right. He had to handle the reporters.
He stepped forward, clapping loudly to get their attention.
Being the center of attention was uncomfortable.
Especially since he felt so... guilty.
"Ahem! Thank you for your concern. We’ve experienced so... unpleasantness at Corp today. Please remain calm. Our logistics departnt is preparing breakfast for everyone. Afterward, we will hold a press conference. For now, please remain calm and do not disrupt public order."
He quickly retreated to the elevator.
Michael watched coldly. Komatsu’s words had cald the reporters. They were here for the story, and a press conference was promised. Besides, free breakfast was a welco offer after standing in the cold.
But they didn’t know the truth.
"Ryōma told you to say that, didn’t he?" Michael stepped into the elevator just as the doors were closing.
Komatsu nodded, his body still trembling. "Yes... He transferred back to security. I’m not a PR manager. I can’t do this."
"He’s been detained. He slipped a note, telling what to say..."
Michael nodded, unsurprised.
"And?" he asked flatly.
Komatsu looked at him blankly. Ryōma had only had ti to write those instructions. The rest... he’d either been unable to, or he’d trusted Michael to handle it.
"Komatsu, go to the PR departnt and tell them what just happened. But don’t implicate yourself, understand?" Michael pressed the button for the PR floor.
Komatsu hesitated, unsure if he should trust Michael, but he had no better ideas.
And there was sothing more important. "What about Mr. Ryōma?"
Michael considered. Ryōma’s actions had made his intentions clear: he wanted Corp, Anti-Entropy’s Far East branch, to survive.
Michael didn’t know Cocolia’s reasoning, but, perhaps out of spite, she’d targeted Corp itself, not just Ryōma. The "financial fraud" the reporter ntioned.
Specifically, " Corp fraudulently obtained $3.4 billion USD under the guise of developing ultra-high frequency electromagnetic field containnt technology."
Cocolia had given Ryōma a choice: implicate his subordinates, letting Corp take the fall, or accept full responsibility, minimizing the damage to the company.
Both of them knew what Ryōma would choose.
"Cocolia’s insane. Corp’s problems... she’ll have to clean up the ss herself if she takes over... Oh, I see..." Michael realized her plan. She wanted Anti-Entropy’s resources, not Corp itself. Without Anti-Entropy’s backing, Corp was expendable. She could transfer the resources to a new company, under her control. Corp, built by Ryōma, was too entrenched for her liking, despite her infiltration...
Of course, she’d have a backup plan if Ryōma didn’t take the fall.
Ryōma understood this. If he couldn’t escape, he’d save his company, hoping his friends would look after i.
Michael didn’t bother explaining this to Komatsu. He wouldn’t understand, and they were reaching the PR floor.
He offered a vague reassurance. "Don’t worry. I’m here. I ca specifically to see Ryōma."
Komatsu eyed him doubtfully. The elevator dinged, the doors opening.
He hesitated. "Mr. Michael, you must..."
Michael patted his shoulder. "If I guaranteed Ryōma’s safety, would you believe ?"
"I... no." Komatsu wasn’t a fool, just desperate.
Michael shook his head, pushing him out of the elevator just as the doors were closing.
The elevator ascended. Michael chuckled in the oppressive atmosphere. He had a thousand ways to save Ryōma and destroy Cocolia, but...
He also wanted Ryōma to suffer.
"Ding!" He stepped out of the elevator. Police officers stood guard while Corp employees scurried around frantically.
Michael approached an officer. "Where’s Raiden Ryōma?"
The officer stared blankly. Michael extracted the answer directly from his mind and walked away. His phone vibrated.
He entered the restroom, checking for anyone nearby, then opened the ssage.
Ryōma. How he’d managed to send a ssage while detained was a mystery, but not surprising. Corp was his domain; backdoors were expected.
The ssage was short: Mr. Michael, rember my last words from last night.
Michael recalled Ryōma’s words: Michael, you promised to protect i.
He gripped the phone, a distant mory surfacing.
"Rumble—" The thunder interrupted his thoughts. He glanced at the darkening sky through the window, inhaled deeply, and walked out, nodding to the security cara at the end of the hallway.
"At least you’re a good father... unlike..."
...
"Rumble—" The thunder woke i. She clutched her chest, gasping for air, stars dancing before her eyes.
She glanced around. Her classmates were eating lunch, so subtly, so openly, staring at her. She’d pretended to sleep to avoid their gazes, but she’d slept through two classes, straight into lunch break.
Perhaps the teachers had been kind enough to let her sleep.
Who knows? Maybe they don’t follow the news and don’t know about Corp. They probably still think you’re the heiress. Or maybe they just don’t care anymore.
"Who! Who’s talking?!" i’s outburst drew everyone’s attention. Those who had been discreet now stared openly.
A chill ran down i’s spine. The classroom fell silent.
After a mont, i apologized, "S-sorry, I must have misheard."
But she had heard it. A voice, identical to her own... No, it must have been her imagination. Who could mimic her voice so perfectly?
Her classmates were unconvinced. A girl, the sa one who’d started the gossip earlier, exclaid dramatically, "Oh, my lady! Don’t take your bad mood out on us! You’re giving us heart attacks! This isn’t your private playground! Have so consideration for others!"
i looked at her, stung by her words. Just a few hours ago, she could silence her with a single look. Now, she felt powerless.
Another girl chid in, "Don’t be so harsh! She’s the heiress, she’s allowed to have a little temper! What if she tells her daddy to buy Chiba Academy? ... Hey, i, why don’t you ask your dad to buy the school? We can all be your entourage!"
Laughter erupted. Everyone knew about Corp’s troubles. This was rubbing salt in the wound.
So didn’t laugh, but their silence was complicity.
i lowered her head, unable to respond, to fight back.
The old Raiden Queen would have slamd her fist on the desk, silencing them with a sharp retort.
Or, more drastically, she’d show them the true aning of nkyo kaiden.
Yes, these were her thoughts, perfectly normal thoughts. But she discarded them.
After all...
"I’m... not the Raiden Queen. I’m just... lucky to have a good father..." She curled up slightly, as if to hide under her desk.
Suddenly, she rembered sothing, pulling out a large bento box.
"Thud!"
"Everyone... would anyone like... so of my bento?" She stood up, clutching the box like a lifeline. "They said... they’d eat it... because it’s free..."
If they ate her food, they wouldn’t be so an, right...?
The bento was indeed tempting. They were high school students, not inherently malicious, just following the lead of others.
i’s vulnerable appearance even evoked a protective instinct in so of the boys.
But as they stepped forward, they rembered i’s cold rejections of their confessions, and they hesitated.
In that mont of hesitation, the girl who’d started the gossip spoke again. "What are you doing? I told you I have a weak heart! Are you trying to scare to death? Why slam the bento box on the desk? Showing off?"
She walked towards i, reaching for the bento. i clutched it tightly, shaking her head and backing away. The girl shoved i’s shoulder, snatching the box.
"Ah!" i’s back hit the corner of a cabinet. She gasped, tears welling up.
"What are you yelling about?!" The girl placed her foot on i’s chair, opening the bento box, and popping a piece of sushi into her mouth. "Hmm, delicious. Made by your family’s chef, right?"
"Mm..."
Seeing the usually aloof Raiden Queen so subdued, the girl felt a surge of malicious satisfaction. "Louder! I can’t hear you! Made by your chef?!"
"Y-yes!" i covered her face.
"Hah! Hear that? Made by her chef! Paid for by her daddy! ... Eh? Where did daddy get his money?"
"He... earned it..."
"He stole it! Everyone knows he scamd billions from Corp!" The girl shouted, tossing the bento box at i, scattering rice and food over her.
She wasn’t done. She lunged at i. "And I bet your clothes were also bought with stolen money!"
She grabbed i’s cardigan, about to rip it. i held on tight, shaking her head.
"You dare resist?!" The girl raised her hand...
"Stop!" A hand shot out, grabbing the girl’s wrist.
"Crack!"
"Ah!" The girl cried out, clutching her wrist and stumbling backward. It was the idiot from the next class, standing protectively in front of i.
"Are you just going to watch? She’s from another class!" The onlookers, who had been enjoying the show, stirred. They wouldn’t dare bully i directly, but soone from another class interfering? That was unacceptable.
Several boys surged forward, pulling Kiana away. Kiana struggled, but she was outnumbered... No, she wasn’t...
A glint of power flashed in her eyes, then vanished. She could easily overpower them, but that would only isolate i further.
She turned, shouting, "What are you waiting for? Run!"
"Run?" i looked up, a bitter smile on her face. "Where to?"
Kiana thought she saw a flash of crimson in i’s eyes.
Then i’s hair lifted, every strand distinct, and a familiar energy surged through the air.
"Rumble—" The thunder returned, the world bathed in white light.
"i!" Kiana shouted in alarm, but the boys dragged her away.
"No—" Her voice cut off as a tall figure appeared, effortlessly scattering the boys.
He placed his hand on i’s head, and the thunder subsided, her hair settling, everything returning to normal.
He turned, glancing at the girl who had started the commotion. The girl’s eyes widened, she clutched her throat, vomited, then fainted, collapsing into a puddle of her own filth.
The stunned students backed away, so fleeing the classroom.
Michael turned to i, gently taking her hand, his voice calm but loud enough for everyone to hear. "Chin up, let’s go ho."
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