Chapter 16
Wherever the world holds secrets, that man is there.
So goes the legend of a certain ace reporter.
It's said he'll go anywhere for a scoop—be it a battlefield, the deep sea, or even outer space. No scoop escapes the lens of his DSLR.
This ti, he's co to a place more terrifying than any of those—the untad kingdom of Gunma.
"In Gunma, let your guard down, and you die."
Bracing himself, the reporter hid his compact DSLR and other journalistic tools in his coat before heading to the Dungeon Foundation's camp to pursue his target.
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This is the open-air beer garden.
The Class 3 dungeon that suddenly appeared in Gunma's uncharted lands was nearing its climax.
But this was still a beer garden.
Drinkers always gathered here.
Because it was a beer garden.
Nothing more, nothing less.
"Oh hey, you're..."
Among the middle-aged explorer-drinkers (average age: 48) who commandeered a section of the beer garden as their regular spot—there, slightly apart, was a man chugging Monster Energy with a pale face.
He set a well-worn DSLR on the table and stared at it intently.
As if confirming that the self reflected in its lens wasn't just a fleeting illusion of this transient world—as if to ensure sothing as fragile as a bubble wouldn't vanish in an instant—he kept his eyes wide open.
This was the only way he could feel alive.
"The foundation has intel that you made contact with Finger Man."
The drunk man flinched and turned his gaze toward the voice.
A black formal suit.
Black sunglasses.
Perhaps due to the chill, she wore a black coat on top.
Dressed like she could step into *The Matrix* without raising eyebrows. Resurrection.
Her na was Gakidou.
No one knew her first na.
"(Why are you drunk on Monster Energy?)"
"Monster? Yeah... that thing was a monster alright..."
The drunk man began to speak.
"Back then, I knew nothing. I marched in, full of myself—like a hunter laying a trap for a big catch, eager to check it the next morning—straight into this blood-soaked ancient land. If I could tell my past self anything, it'd be: 'Don't go near Finger Man.' I'll never co back to Gunma. Why? Because I can't forget my encounter with him."
Drunkenness loosened his tongue as he chugged more Monster Energy.
It was as if speaking of Finger Man was shortening his lifespan.
"Listen, foundation girl. I'm not a reporter anymore. Once I give you this last article, I'm disappearing."
The man lowered his voice.
"My investigation lasted two days. On the first, I gathered all I could on Finger Man. The profile that erged was of a model young man—nothing suspicious. On the second day, I decided to tail him. Why? Because I underestimated him. I thought I could slowly but surely expose the rising enigma of Finger Man. I had a na as a capable reporter. I thought I could do it. I was arrogant. Like a hunter proudly shouldering his rifle, flashing a grin before the hunt—I was cocky. I'd snag my scoop. I found Finger Man at the camp and raised my DSLR from 100 ters away. Got a perfect shot of his profile. Thought I'd it later, maybe sell it to a tabloid. Just as I was about to press the shutter—that's when he looked at . Through the lens."
The man took another gulp of Monster Energy.
His hands trembled violently; his speech grew erratic.
"H-He... Finger Man... was staring right at . I'll never forget those eyes. Predator's eyes. I was 100 ters away! Yet he found snooping. That's when I knew—Finger Man hates being watched. I ran. I had distance. The camp was crowded. Maybe I imagined the eye contact. But he followed. I fled like mad. And then... I was trapped in Gunma's wilderness (※got lost)."
"You got it wrong."
"Yeah, I misjudged my enemy. Before I knew it, it was just and Finger Man playing tag in the deep jungle. He must've been waiting for this. He didn't even hide—just strolled after . I ran desperately. Ended up in a dead end. Looked back—he was there. I'd been played (※got lost). Dancing on his palm (※got lost). I wasn't the hunter with a rifle. I felt death then. Know what Finger Man was doing?"
Gakidou swallowed hard.
"H e w a s f l i p p i n g a c o i n."
"Tch! (Genuinely intense expression)"
"Then he did a coin toss. I'm not stupid. Anyone in that situation would understand. He was betting human lives on heads or tails—erase or spare!"
"Tch! (Genuinely intense expression)"
(Just as I thought. Finger Man toys with lives. Always the hunter.)
Gakidou slamd the table, urging him to continue.
To others, it just looked like anger.
"'Finger Man... p-please... I didn't an to anger you...!' I begged desperately. And y'know what he said...?"
The man paused.
"'Tailing , huh? My bad.'"
("'Tailing , huh? My bad.'... Tch, no way—")
A lightning bolt flashed through Gakidou's razor-sharp gray cells.
"'Tailing , huh? My bad'—Be cool or death you. Do not see ......hm (Think again, or just die. Never investigate again.)"
(Finger Man is a ruthless killer—yet also a hedonist who decides life or death by coin toss... No doubt.)
Gakidou adjusted her sunglasses.
Reckless surveillance was out of the question.
One wrong move, and another corpse would turn up (※no one's died yet).
"Thanks for talking."
"I survived by fate's whim. Had that coin landed tails, I wouldn't be here... You watch yourself too, girl."
Gakidou left the camp and got into her black luxury car parked roadside.
"Uh... this is a no-parking zone..."
A police officer hesitantly warned her.
"I don't speak Japanese."
"You're Japanese, right?"
"Nope."
Gakidou floored the gas, leaving the cop behind.
Driving 80 km/h on public roads, steering one-handed, she checked Finger Man's foundation SNS.
"Tch... No way... Finger Man already knows my identity..."
Gakidou reflexively hit the brakes at a red light.
She couldn't help it—she was shaken.
Yesterday, Finger Man had posted excitedly about getting a new dungeon bag, so Gakidou had lightly jabbed with a like!
That post had vanished by morning.
"Tch."
Gakidou realized.
She'd thought she was testing him with a like!, but Finger Man had already lined up a counter left hook for her.
The reason the post was gone.
It was a ssage!!
Gakidou compiled intel, analyzing Finger Man's shrouded personality.
Her FBI-trained profiling skills flared up.
Finger Man was a man who toyed with lives at his fingertips, decided fates with coins, and honed himself like an ascetic—unbroken by rain, wind, snow, or sumr heat. Outwardly, he wore the mask of a model youth, but occasionally, the bloodthirsty beast lurking beneath surfaced. He rcilessly—yet playfully—hunted those who approached him.
"An amateur wouldn't stand a chance. Get too close, and you vanish."
Gakidou hit the gas, smashing through a railroad crossing barrier at 150 km/h.
Agent G's investigation continues──.
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