Volume 3.5
(Renko Sukamo perspective)
Chapter 5: The Deception of Purpose
December 27th, 2026.
There are very few people in this world capable of irritating me simply by existing.
Toshiro Sobu was one of them.
The moment we stepped out of the car in the hospital parking lot, I already regretted coming.
"Why the hell are we here?" I asked.
Toshiro didn't answer.
He never answered simple questions.
Instead, he adjusted his coat and walked toward the entrance.
I clicked my tongue and followed.
The receptionist looked up from her desk.
"Who are you here to see?"
Without hesitation, Toshiro produced a forged identification card.
"We're relatives of Kyou."
The lie was flawless.
As expected.
Within minutes we were heading toward Room 407.
I still had no idea why we were here.
And that bothered me.
I disliked entering situations without understanding the objective.
Toshiro seemed to enjoy it.
The old man inside looked like death itself had forgotten to collect him.
Monitors surrounded his bed.
Machines breathed for him.
Yet his eyes remained sharp.
Far too sharp.
Toshiro immediately produced another fake identification card.
"We're volunteers helping elderly patients."
The old man smiled.
"Come in."
For the next hour, I watched something bizarre unfold.
The two of them played chess.
Move after move.
Neither gaining ground.
Neither losing.
Every match ended exactly the same way.
A stalemate.
Finally, Toshiro leaned back.
"This was enjoyable."
"We should play again sometime."
The old man chuckled.
"Thank you."
Then his expression changed.
Or perhaps it had never been friendly to begin with.
"Or should I say..."
His gaze shifted between us.
"Toshiro Sobu and Renko Sukamo."
My eyes widened.
For a brief moment, I couldn't hide it.
How?
Toshiro only smiled.
"So you saw through our deception."
"Interesting."
Kyou laughed weakly.
"I may be old."
"But I'm not blind."
"I've spent years keeping track of everyone connected to Eiji Fushimiya."
His eyes settled on us.
"That includes both of you."
Silence filled the room.
Then he asked:
"So tell me."
"Why are you really here?"
Toshiro reached into his coat.
He removed a folded piece of paper and placed it on the table.
"Tomorrow."
"Taro Fushimiya's sons will visit you."
"Give this to them."
Kyou stared at it.
"And if I tell them you were here?"
Toshiro leaned forward.
He whispered something into Kyou's ear.
I couldn't hear it.
Whatever he said caused the old man's expression to change immediately.
His eyes widened.
For the first time since we arrived, he looked genuinely unsettled.
"What are you?"
Kyou asked.
Toshiro merely smiled.
Then stood.
No answer.
As usual.
We turned to leave.
Then Kyou spoke again.
"One question."
We stopped.
His gaze was fixed on us.
"Why?"
"Why did you choose this path?"
"I understand why Taro became a founder."
"But why did the two of you?"
The room grew quiet.
I considered ignoring him.
Instead, I answered.
"When you look at society, what do you see?"
"A flawed species."
His answer came immediately.
I shook my head.
"Close."
"But incorrect."
I walked toward the window.
Outside, snow drifted slowly through the air.
"Society is nothing more than a collection of slaves."
Kyou narrowed his eyes.
"And why do you believe that?"
"Because humans always surrender."
"To power."
"To religion."
"To ideology."
"To comfort."
"To fear."
"It doesn't matter."
"They always choose a master."
I folded my arms.
"Humanity wasn't weakened by its chains."
"It was defined by them."
"Without purpose, people become empty."
"Without something to serve, they become lost."
I looked back at him.
"Modern humanity is regressing."
"They surrender themselves to meaningless things."
"My belief is simple."
"If genuine genius leaders emerge..."
"Humanity will surrender itself to curiosity."
"To progress."
"To purpose."
I paused.
"The price of purpose is slavery."
Kyou laughed.
Not because he found it amusing.
Because he pitied me.
Then he spoke.
"Keep pursuing your project."
His voice had become strangely calm.
"Keep walking forward."
"Let fate toy with you."
"Let your conscience rot."
"Let your sanity erode."
"Then perish like a fool."
His eyes shifted toward Toshiro.
Then toward me.
Then somewhere beyond both of us.
"I despise all three of you."
"Toshiro."
"Renko."
"Taro."
"You are a disgrace to Eiji's vision."
"Woe to you."
"You will reap what you sow."
I didn't fully understand his meaning.
But judging from the look in Toshiro's eyes...
He did.
We left shortly afterward.
---
That evening, I returned home.
The mansion felt unusually quiet.
The moment I stepped inside, I heard footsteps.
My son stood waiting.
Shinko.
Fourteen years old.
Angry.
As usual.
"It's been a while."
I attempted a smile.
It failed.
"Save it."
His response was immediate.
"Do you even know how long you've been gone?"
I sighed.
"Listen, I'm sorry—"
"You always say that."
His voice rose.
Every word struck harder than I expected.
"If you're never here..."
"Then why even bother coming home?"
Before I could answer, he ran upstairs.
A door slammed.
Silence returned.
I stood there for several moments.
Then walked toward my office.
---
The shadows were waiting.
They always were.
I sat behind my desk and opened several files.
Yet I could feel it.
That familiar presence.
That corner.
That shadow.
And then I heard the voice.
Yutaro.
A ghost that didn't exist.
A memory that refused to die.
"Even after everything..."
"You are still a coward."
I clenched my jaw.
The shadow continued.
"You remember that call before Christmas."
"Toshiro warned you."
"He said Aoi might contact government authorities."
"He told you to prepare."
"Burn the evidence."
"Destroy the files."
I stared at my desk.
The voice continued.
"You're nothing more than—"
The office door burst open.
I immediately looked toward the corner.
Nothing.
As expected.
Only darkness.
Paul entered.
Angry.
More angry than I had seen him in years.
"Do you have any idea what's happening?"
I frowned.
"What are you talking about?"
Paul slammed a file onto my desk.
"Your nihilistic friend."
"Toshiro."
"He's provoking people."
"Aoi has already become suspicious."
"Taro and Toshiro are both watching a specific student."
He paused.
"And do you remember Yutaro?"
My headache immediately worsened.
Of course.
That name again.
Paul continued.
"When we discovered Yutaro had spoken to Yamada, I assumed Yamada would be eliminated too."
"Now I know why he wasn't."
I opened the file.
At first, it seemed irrelevant.
Information regarding Chimpei.
Information regarding Yamada.
Nothing unusual.
Then I noticed a name.
A surname.
One I recognized immediately.
Haruto Sonomori.
I continued reading.
My confusion deepened.
Then another section caught my attention.
An investigator.
A man who left Japan decades ago.
Changed his name.
Built a career overseas.
Years later, his brother and sister-in-law died in a car accident.
Only one child survived.
Toshiro Sobu.
The file stated that the child had been pulled from the wreckage by Taro Fushimiya.
I read the page again.
Then again.
Slowly, pieces began connecting.
Yamada frequently traveled between America and Tokyo.
Yamada always purchased black roses.
The file contained photographs of Sobu's parents' graves.
Black roses sat beside them.
Every year.
Every visit.
I felt my heartbeat accelerate.
Then I returned to the section involving Chimpei.
Haruto Sonomori.
The surname.
The bloodline.
The connection.
My eyes widened.
I finally understood.
At least part of it.
Haruto Sonomori...
was Chimpei's great-grandson.
And Yamada...
was Toshiro Sobu's uncle.
I lowered the file.
My mind struggled to process the implications.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
The project.
The school.
The bloodlines.
The connections.
All of it had become tangled together.
I stared at the pages in disbelief.
"What in God's green earth..."
"...is going on?"