"Want to join Funeral Parlor?"
Inori Yuzuriha stepped forward without warning, her voice dropping to a low, coaxing murmur.
——Too close. Way too close!
Shu Ouma swallowed with difficulty, his cheeks burning. At this distance, face-to-face with the idol he'd only ever admired through a screen, he couldn't quite make himself believe this was real. It took a full few seconds of blank staring before the actual content of what she'd just said finally registered.
"Wh— Funeral Par— Funeral Parlor?!"
He recoiled in alarm, stumbling back several steps.
"That's right," Inori said.
"You've heard of it, haven't you? The resistance group that's been all over the news lately."
Apparently satisfied with his reaction, she smiled and continued in the same breezy tone.
"Are you saying… Inori, you're… you're with Funeral Parlor…?"
"Not exactly. I'm just there on someone else's behalf for now, helping out."
Inori considered for a moment before answering, then drifted to his side. Her small shoes clicked crisp and clear against the floorboards. She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the light pouring in through the window, glanced down at Shu, and flashed a sly smile.
"What? Are you going to report me?"
"..."
Shu swallowed again. A chill crawled up his spine out of nowhere.
That strange, sourceless pressure from before—like someone was standing directly behind him, watching with cold, predatory focus. He couldn't explain it. The only thing he could think to blame it on was how unbearably nervous Inori made him just by standing nearby.
"Inori… even though the news says you're wanted… I don't think Funeral Parlor are the bad guys."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
Shu nodded firmly.
That was how most young people felt these days. Japan under GHQ rule had brought a higher standard of living, sure—but the nation's economic lifeblood had been handed over to outsiders, and no amount of material comfort could make up for the loss of self-determination and dignity. The GHQ was an invisible sword hanging over every head in the country, and people had learned to stay silent. They had to stay silent, because GHQ held the Apocalypse Virus vaccine. They held the nation's pulse in their fist.
"So that's a yes?"
"No! I—I can't!" Shu flailed his hands in a frantic denial. "I'm weak… I'm not athletic, and I'm not that smart either… there's nothing I can do to help you, Inori."
"I'm so sorry. But I promise I won't tell anyone about this! Thank you so much for inviting me!"
She could read his conflict with perfect clarity. She could see exactly how much he wanted to say yes—but the protective instinct coiled around his heart like a reflex, and the bone-deep insecurity beneath it, had forced this answer out of him instead.
Inori understood his psychology well. A little pressure was called for. She moved slowly around behind him and rested a hand on his rigid shoulder.
The boy flinched.
"Shu," she said quietly. "What is Funeral Parlor?"
"Hm? Well… a resistance group? Terrorists?"
He thought about it, then forced up a stiff smile, not wanting her to see that he was scared.
"That's right. Terrorists." Her smile brightened. "So—you now know I'm a terrorist. And you're planning to walk out of here pretending you never heard a word?"
The smile kept growing, her voice like a silver bell chiming softly against his ear—the sweetest, most lethal poison imaginable, spreading through Shu's already-frantic nerves and making everything so much worse.
"Inori… you're not seriously thinking of—"
His eyes went wide.
"The only people you can really trust are allies," she said, "and the dead. Don't you think that's true, Shu?"
"——No! Please don't!" The implication hit him instantly, and he spun around to face her, tripping over his own words. "Inori! I—I'm your fan, I look up to you so much! How could I ever do something like that? I would never tell anyone! That's the truth… please believe me!"
"You know what's funny?" Inori tilted her head, unhurried. "Every single person who's learned my identity has said those exact words to me."
"Care to guess what happened to them?"
She lowered her gaze slightly. That breathtaking face still wore its smile—a devil's smile—and her narrowed red eyes held a sharpness that seemed to cut straight through him. Then she began to walk forward.
"Don't—don't come any closer!"
Shu yelped in terror. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but his legs locked up completely, as though his feet had been cemented to the floor. His heart was hammering so hard and so fast he thought it might actually kill him.
And then Inori was gone—
A cool little hand closed around the back of his neck without warning. She wasn't gripping hard. She was barely touching him, just the tips of her fingers resting lightly against his nape, the way you might reach for a small, skittish animal. That alone was enough to send a full-body shudder through him.
Then warmth brushed the skin near his ear. Inori spoke in the most gentle of tones—the kind you'd use with a small child.
"Don't be scared."
"I'm not going to hurt you. Come be my friend~"
Inori had come to the school for two reasons: first, to experience what campus life in this world was actually like, and second, to lay the groundwork for the upcoming operation to neutralize the Leucocyte.
The Leucocyte—a network assembled from a constellation of zenith satellites—once fully constructed would allow GHQ to strike any target in Japan from orbit, twenty-four hours a day with zero blind spots. Once complete, it would be a catastrophic liability for both Inori personally and for Funeral Parlor as a whole. Even the quarantine zones could be "cleansed" by a single fired beam. Taking it out was not optional.
Inori couldn't recall the exact details of how this had played out in the original story, but she'd decided to follow the same general trajectory: get Shu into Funeral Parlor, have him retrieve the control device for Leucocyte-1 from that major—even if it turned out to be unnecessary for the current mission. A mechanism that could freely commandeer satellite-guided strikes was a rare and invaluable card to hold in reserve.
She was in the middle of threatening and coaxing Shu when she caught it.
A sound. Nearly imperceptible.
Inori's head snapped around instantly. Nothing behind her—the room was empty. Her brow furrowed. Because of King Crimson's extreme precision, Inori maintained awareness of every detail within her immediate surroundings, and that sound had been unmistakable: footsteps. Someone had just been inside this derelict building with her. Someone who may have seen her—and possibly heard every word of her exchange with Shu.
That's the worst possible outcome.
——King Crimson! Go after them!
A flash of deep crimson light bloomed behind her, and King Crimson—its range and remote operation amplified by Void power—launched into motion at a speed no naked eye could track.
...Hare?
Shock and doubt surfaced in Inori's deep red eyes.
Through the synchronized vision King Crimson was feeding back to her, she saw it: Hare Menjou, still in her school uniform, running like someone fleeing for her life, trying to get as far from this place as possible. In her hands were two desserts—bought from a fast food place nearby, by the look of it. An offering, probably. Something she'd picked up for herself and Shu.
It clicked together immediately. Hare had come to drop by and hang out with Shu after school, only to stumble across Inori—who was supposed to be on a campus tour with an upperclassman—in the very last place she should have been. And she'd overheard the conversation. She must have been unable to process the idea that her closest friend was actually a member of Funeral Parlor—that Inori had been deceiving her this whole time.
——Damn. This is as bad as it gets.
Anyone else, and Inori wouldn't have hesitated. King Crimson would have killed her without a second thought. But this was Hare. If she could bring herself to raise that hand against her—what would separate her from Diavolo?
"What a disaster."
Inori had no more patience left for Shu. She turned on her heel and moved in Hare's direction at a brisk walk.
"Huh? Inori— Inori?!"
The boy was left standing there, completely lost. He'd had no idea what Inori was thinking before, and he had no idea now—one moment she'd looked ready to silence him permanently, and then she'd just… walked away? Did that mean he was off the hook?
Inori paused at the doorway and glanced back over her shoulder.
"You have one night to decide."
Her expression had gone cold and flat.
"And if you breathe a word of this to anyone—you know what happens, Shu Ouma."