010. The Despicable and Shameless Man

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“To… what are we supposed to do now?!” Margaret, cautiously eyeing the deeply sleeping Sakura Hiiragi on the sofa, nervously stammered as she turned to Anrito.

Anrito thought of his phone, which was still turned off, then cheerfully picked up his coffee cup and rose from his seat. “I’m heading out. Figure something out yourself.”

“?!” Margaret’s eyes widened in disbelief.

You mean… you invited this monster in and then just left?

Do you even realize what happens when a yin-yang master and a ‘youkai’ are left alone together?!

…

Anrito placed the porcelain cup in the sink behind the counter and tightened his tie. “Margaret, human society isn’t as simple as you think. If ‘work’ is a necessary means for survival, then to maintain stability in one’s work, ‘socializing’ becomes an indispensable part…”

“So, you’re saying you have to attend some social obligation tonight and will probably stay out overnight.”

For the first time, Anrito realized that social obligations could actually be something to look forward to.

Rather than risk being discovered by his colleagues at S.T.F. living under the same roof with a fourteen-year-old girl, he’d rather be pressured into drinking at a booze-filled table until dizzy, even to the point of alcohol poisoning and hospitalization.

At least the latter would come with paid leave and an exemption from future drinking invitations, whereas the former meant the elite officers would face social death and possibly tragic backstabbing within their own ranks.

Cold colleagues turning into warm achievements—truly touching.

Of course, even if Anrito stayed in the café, no one would come knocking to accuse him of breaking the law…

This little witch seemed to possess magic capable of distorting reality from the cognitive level; unless she allowed it, no one could confirm her existence.

Even repeatedly chanting her name to retain the slightest information would only lead to forgetting it the next moment.

If it weren’t for Sakura Hiiragi actively seeking Anrito out, they would have barely noticed each other even if they brushed past.

Anrito was well aware that once he found Sakura and negotiated with her, there was no hiding it from S.T.F.

But even the all-seeing S.T.F. Intelligence Bureau could only reach the limit of knowing that “Anrito contacted Sakura Hiiragi.”

As for more detailed matters—like Sakura moving into Night Moon or the contents of their conversations—that was clearly beyond their scope.

In short, Sakura Hiiragi’s plan to freeload at Night Moon and drain Anrito’s wallet dry was something no outsider could notice.

Even if Anrito boasted loudly about it, people would likely forget all about it the moment after.

When you think about it, the concept of a ‘witch’ in these urban legends is truly baffling.

It directly represents people’s abstract perception of “women with magic,” imbuing Sakura Hiiragi, who embodies this legend, with almost limitless power—power whose upper limit depends entirely on her own perception.

That was why Anrito, wary of Sakura, planned to spend the night outside Night Moon.

He left Margaret in the café to keep an eye on this mysterious witch.

If Margaret survived the night, it meant Sakura was at least trustworthy enough to control herself and not casually disrupt Anrito’s life.

Seeing Anrito’s firm resolve, the “Nekomata” let out a piercing howl.

But as the café door closed behind him, the mournful sounds were completely cut off.

…

3:11 PM.

Two hours left until the end of the workday.

No matter what, Anrito had to rush back to headquarters to report before the evening rush.

His excuse was already prepared.

“While on patrol in Sakura Shrine Town, I encountered Japan’s strongest modern sorcerer, fought with all my might but was defeated, barely escaped with my life. I humbly request that the General assign a tactical unit so we may return and battle the witch, to restore the honor of S.T.F.”

From his observations during this month back at headquarters…

Chief Inspector Kirishima, though well into his seventies, was surprisingly a very trendy old man.

He liked anime, read light novels and manga, and had an entire wall of figurines in his office.

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This completely shattered Anrito’s preconceived notions of what a leader of such an official superpowered organization should be.

In his initial impression, the S.T.F. Chief Inspector was supposed to be a stern elder who spent most of his time in a modest and minimalist office.

One might expect that when visiting him, he’d be clad in a kimono, sitting cross-legged on tatami mats, with calligraphy scrolls bearing phrases like “Unmatched in the world” or “Justice and integrity” adorning the wall behind him.

So, a month ago, when the enthusiastic Team Leader Toudou introduced Anrito to his duties and accompanied the nervous rookie to meet the “S.T.F. General,”

the moment they opened the door and saw the elderly man surrounded by posters of two-dimensional anime girls, intently reading a fantasy light novel, Anrito’s worldview collapsed.

What a joke!

You mean this septuagenarian, who has a full and successful career, is a huge otaku who loves two-dimensional characters?!

And even if that’s the case, shouldn’t his favorite works be something like Berserk or Vampire Hunter D?

What’s with titles like “Reincarnated in Another World with a Hypnosis App, I Will Conquer the Empire’s Beast-Eared Maidens” and “Traveling in Another World with a Smartphone”?

No, the Chief Inspector must have some deeper reason for this…

I’d better hurry and buy a couple of light novels myself.

Unfortunately, a month ago, just as Anrito decided to pick up his hobby from middle school again, the “Grim Reaper” forced him into a life of inner torment and suffering.

Working at the Metropolitan Police Department by day and the “Grim Reaper” by night.

Living a relentless, exhausting cycle with no respite, yet managing to keep his emotions intact and spend an entire month reaping only the souls of the truly wicked—Anrito was indeed an extraordinary man.

Putting aside his self-praise, Anrito briskly entered the train station.

It’s worth noting he was turning on his phone.

The phone was the “Sixth Generation Path-Seeking Heart,” developed by the neighboring Eastern nation, using cutting-edge “Cognitive Hermeneutics” technology… reportedly replacing silicon chips with talismans, equipped with the legendary “Three Purities Navigation,” ensuring full signal strength even in the deepest levels of the Tokyo subway.

The screen flickered with unfamiliar animations before quickly loading the main interface.

As expected, calls and messages flooded the screen like a tidal wave.

Even with the phone set to silent, the passionate work ethic of the S.T.F. Intelligence Bureau was unmistakable.

Since it was still working hours, the train car was unusually empty; the sparse passengers were all middle school students, presumably out for club activities.

After some thought, Anrito found the name of the Intelligence Bureau’s top leader among a series of notification bubbles, then swiped with his index and middle finger, instantly entering the communication interface.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Nanjo!”

Despite being emotionally drained from the recent upheavals, Anrito mustered his energy and spoke with enthusiastic fervor.

A brief silence followed on the other end, soon replaced by a strange chuckle.

“Anrito, it’s been three hours since you left headquarters after lunch, hasn’t it?”

Cold sweat broke out across Anrito’s forehead.

But Director Nanjo did not intend to reprimand him severely. He only scolded Anrito lightly for acting alone and reminded him to call for backup promptly in difficult situations, warning against reckless behavior.

Then silence fell again.

This time, it lasted a long two minutes.

In a puzzled tone, Director Nanjo said:

“You should have met that young lady from the Hiiragi family, right?”

“I thought you’d ask that the moment we connected.”

“I wanted to, but the moment the call connected, I suddenly forgot. Her powers are troublesome—this has been the case for many years. The Intelligence Bureau can’t oversee her every move, so we rely on her family’s guidance.”

Anrito keenly grasped the key point in those words.

“So the Intelligence Bureau has always been able to track her whereabouts?”

“Of course. After all, this is the information age—surveillance, satellites, search compasses, divination for location…”

Director Nanjo rambled, “But even with all that, the information doesn’t enter our minds directly. So just remembering it doesn’t help. We can only record it in detail on paper and hope to recall something relevant the next day.”

He continued, “So, regarding her, say whatever you want or keep quiet. I’m calling you only because Shoya ordered it.”

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By “Shoya,” he meant Chief Inspector Kirishima’s real name, Shoya Kirishima.

Director Nanjo said, “That old man, who’s still into paper characters at his age, is calling you back to headquarters. Also, you must attend the meeting he’s organizing tonight.”

Anrito: “A meeting? Sounds serious.”

Director Nanjo: “You seem to have a deep misunderstanding of S.T.F. We never promote drinking culture or drag agents to bars. Especially since that ‘Grim Reaper’ hasn’t been dealt with yet, no one dares to get drunk.”

Director Nanjo: “Of course, this gathering is indeed to discuss the latest countermeasures against the ‘Grim Reaper.’”

Anrito: “Do I need to report about Miss Hiiragi to the Chief Inspector?”

Director Nanjo: “You can ignore the ‘witch’ for now. Shoya just took note that you happened to live in Sakura Shrine Town for a month and wanted to see if you could get in contact. After all, she’s been guarding the Hiiragi family in Kanto for centuries, so she’s unlikely to cause any major incidents.”

“…”

So it wasn’t anything important…

To be precise, when the Intelligence Bureau confirmed through various means that Anrito had contacted Sakura Hiiragi, they went through a period of excitement and anxiety.

But since Anrito’s phone was off and they couldn’t reach him, their interest in investigating Sakura’s intentions quickly waned.

However… they all referred to Sakura Hiiragi as the “witch.”

Unfortunately, Sakura herself didn’t understand how she had merged with this broad urban legend of the “witch.”

Otherwise, it might have helped her indirectly uncover the truth behind her sudden fusion with the “Grim Reaper” to become a half-human, half-youkai.

As Anrito pondered this, the earpiece he had just put down was suddenly filled with loud chatter.

Following the direction of the noise, he saw a group of schoolkids in uniforms gathered, discussing excessively awkward youthful topics—like the buttocks and chest of a high-achieving but unnoticed girl, or the private life of a well-known hottie from a neighboring school… their playful banter made the twenty-five-year-old Anrito restless.

Youth’s burning candor was cleansing the filthy, despicable corporate worker.

At this point, if the “Grim Reaper” and the “witch” had really joined forces, it was utterly unspeakable.

Time made people sentimental and selfish, cold and wary, and overly self-important.

He remembered that ten years ago, he, too, could easily chat with friends in public about personal fetishes or naive fantasies about “sex.”

Now, thinking back, it only brought an indescribable sense of shame.

Everyone probably has an unforgettable shining figure in their memories.

Though that person might have been an ordinary girl, clumsily made up and simply dressed, she possessed an influence even movie stars could not rival.

Was it the regret of something so close yet slipping away?

Anrito slipped his phone into his pocket and stared at the group of youths for a long time.

He was merely mourning a time that would never return.

Even if he met the girl he quietly liked in middle school again, seeing her grown-up self would probably only bring immense disappointment and a cold exchange of mundane social pleasantries.

…

Tall, square buildings stood clustered like towering trees in every direction, casting a cascading waterfall of light from the sky. It was a sunny day after heavy rain; sunlight poured down from the prism-like surfaces of skyscrapers, spilling onto the crowded streets below, stirring waves of sound.

Amid the lively ripple emerged the image of a suited city white-collar worker.

Chiyoda was one of Tokyo’s busiest districts, with malls, advertising screens, skyscrapers, and bustling traffic.

It had an atmosphere far livelier than Sakura Shrine Town.

Shaking off the stench of urban monotony that youth’s vibrant aura had forced out, Anrito strode briskly toward the Metropolitan Police Department headquarters.