Chapter 10
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 10
Chapter Title: Perfect Reasoning (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
As expected, my acting was perfect. Dennis, who had been showing weird reactions to my performance, finally succeeded in sweet-talking my dad. According to what Dad explained, it seemed like I could get into some customized large-corp training program for ability users, but I knew full well this wasn't that kind of system.
These guys are an evil organization straight out of a villain arc, right?
Their training has to be something else entirely. An organization bent on overthrowing the world? Their training's gotta be a straight-up human rights violation.
A hellish regimen waiting with extreme drills and tests that make you cough up blood and carve off chunks of flesh.
"Alright, Serika. Go listen to the grown-ups, and no fighting with the other kids, okay?"
"Yes, sir."
Dad was tense for reasons totally different from what I was imagining. Probably worried that a small-business kid like me getting tossed into a big-corp curriculum might lead to discrimination or me causing some incident.
I was tense for reasons way deeper than Dad's worries, but if it meant soothing his heart, I could smile all day long.
"Don't worry about me, Dad."
I flashed a big, confident grin and spoke up brightly. Only then did Dad look like a weight had lifted off his shoulders. Buoyed by his solid encouragement, I hopped cheerfully into the car.
What if they beat the crap out of me on day one?
What if they round up all the newbies and say, "Alright, kill each other now"?
Better stand next to someone who looks weak, just in case.
******
"Put more strength into your arm... that's it. Good. Now, extend the other arm."
What?
"Take a big breath in, then blow into this as long as you can."
What is this?
"Now, pull this machine as hard as you can with your arm. It's super sturdy, so don't hold back. Got it?"
First day of the training curriculum.
What greeted me wasn't the hell training starting on day one, but a legit corporate health checkup. Doctors and nurses in white coats, wearing glasses, checking boxes here and there, with all sorts of fancy machines lined up.
These people, with utterly clueless looks on their faces, were seriously examining my vitals, nodding and murmuring in low voices using jargon I couldn't understand.
The building was spotless, too.
I'd figured I'd be tested in some massive cave in the mountains or a rusty basement reeking of mold, but nope—just a clean building right in the middle of the city.
What?
What the hell is going on here?
Are the Prophets actually good people?
"Alright, checkup's done for today. Once the results are in, we'll move to basic aptitude tests and adaptation training based on your level."
Only after being dragged around willy-nilly and finally hearing that the exam was over could I start piecing my thoughts together.
Yeah, even if they're villains, they know talent when they see it—so they're extra picky. To get quality recruits, they've gotta do precise checks and level-based tests. That's why they're so thorough here.
Once they confirm here if you're useful, they'll pick out the most promising and ruthless ones, lock 'em away in some secret base training facility, and put 'em through the wringer.
Hmm, yeah. So I gotta make my pitch right here, upfront?
"Um, excuse me..."
"Yes? What is it?"
A bespectacled female doctor happened to pass by. She seemed pretty high up in this testing center—I'd seen others consulting her on results or reporting in.
I put on my most sinister expression possible and spoke up.
"So, when do I get the special training?"
"...?"
She looked totally baffled, like she had no idea what I meant—classic thorough organization. But that should've been enough to sell myself, right? Leaving the still-confused woman behind, I headed outside.
If I play it cool through the regular training here, the Prophets will recognize my value soon enough and toss me into the secret training center.
No one here matches my talent, after all.
*******
Dennis sighed, her face twisting in a grimace.
It wasn't just because of Iwamoto Yoshio.
Today, another member of the Prophets was coming here to back her up.
Dennis didn't like the guy who was about to show. They were same rank, so they crossed paths plenty, but their personalities, tastes, and ways of doing things clashed every time with this trashy guy.
But he was a genius at background checks and intel gathering. He had connections in back alleys everywhere and ties to some crime syndicates.
His name was Yamaguchi Shinsuke.
No better partner for digging into Iwamoto Yoshio.
"Long time no see, granny."
Dennis winced at the sound of the door opening. The guy kicked it open with his foot, hands jammed in his pockets—more neighborhood thug than Prophets member. Shinsuke caught her expression and winked.
"Why the death glare? Did I keep you waiting too long?"
Yamaguchi Shinsuke looked the epitome of a street punk. His hair was dyed fluorescent and spiked up like some game character, and even his ever-present sunglasses had star shapes.
Tattoos covered his body so thoroughly no original skin showed, and he wore his shirt open to flaunt the ugly mess.
Piercings in his ears, three rings per finger. Old-school hip-hop blasted from his phone, and his pants were tight ripped jeans everywhere.
The picture of tacky delinquency.
Just like the teens she'd dealt with before.
That's why Dennis couldn't stand Shinsuke.
"Can't you open the door like a normal person?"
"Don't got hands."
He wiggled his pocketed hands playfully and flopped onto the sofa. Then he fished a cigarette from his back pocket, lit it, and spoke around it.
"So, what's up, old lady? Why'd you call me out? Something about Iwamoto Industry? That's why, right?"
Dennis wrinkled her nose at the smoke. But she knew bickering over it would stall things. She waved it away lazily and pulled files from under the sofa.
"Yes. Upper brass ordered an investigation on Iwamoto Industry's president, Iwamoto Yoshio. Goal is to use your background skills and street connections to thoroughly figure out who this guy is."
"Why this dude?"
Shinsuke glanced at Yoshio's photo in the files and shot back. He cocked an eyebrow with a smirk, but it wasn't a joke.
"You know him?"
"Know him? Hell yeah. Lived in this neighborhood till middle school. Did this guy commit some crime?"
Dennis blinked. Him living here till middle school was unexpected. It was an upscale area with private elementaries and corporate HQs, luxury homes everywhere.
Like any city has its flaws, maybe Shinsuke was one of them. Dennis blinked and replied.
"Upper brass suspects he's deeply involved in Prophets' schemes and wielding influence in the underworld. But with zero info so far, they want you to do a deep dive."
"...Think you're barking up the wrong tree. This guy's just a normal businessman. No underworld ties or anything."
"You ever personally investigated?"
"Course. Used to shake down execs for side cash back in the day—hit Iwamoto Industry once too. Nada. Clean, no underworld links."
Dennis frowned. Plenty of signs already pointed to Iwamoto Yoshio being shady. Yet he was confident based on old memories.
"If a punk's old side-hustle check is your basis, that's pretty flimsy, no?"
Shinsuke narrowed his eyes at her words. A sharp glare shot from behind his shades. Dennis pressed on, unfazed by his menace.
"Intimidating me won't sway upper brass. They've already flagged him as dangerous— you'll need solid proof to overturn that. Get my drift?"
"...Just you wait. I'll show you that old man bawling his eyes out, 'I don't know nothin'!' "
Shinsuke stood, pride wounded, face twisted.