"What did you do to her?!"
"Relax."
"She's fine. I just made sure she understood who her real master is."
Even saying it, Inori felt a small internal shudder. But she'd already let the words out, and they were doing exactly what she needed them to — driving Gai's hatred of Diavolo deeper. The more he despised Diavolo, the safer Inori herself became.
"You bastard..."
She could hear him through the phone, furious enough to reach through the line and skewer her on the spot. She laughed twice, letting satisfaction show in her voice — in Gai's ears, that was all it would sound like. Just imagining the look on his face right now made her so delighted she almost wanted to sing.
Her emotional control held perfectly. She let herself look pleased, nothing more.
"If you want to know what happened, go ask her yourself." Inori judged she was running close to the bell and, following the conversational patterns she'd built up for Diavolo, announced the end of the call without asking.
"As for the rescue operation — I'll be in contact when the timing is right."
"No action until I give the order."
"...Tch."
Gai's rage was so close to the surface he could have bitten through something. His hand crushed the advertising flyer he'd been holding, splitting the paper.
Having the things he valued most stripped from his control — and then being forced to answer to the man doing it — was a humiliation no one could swallow.
Inori knew Gai wouldn't follow Diavolo's instructions. She was counting on it. This whole sequence had been "Inori" acting on her own, quietly, in defiance of the fictional Diavolo's orders — and that made the fiction more real. Diavolo had to become a person who could exist, someone tangible enough to believe in. A man who took his temper out on a woman he controlled. And — equally — a man who could be deceived by that same woman.
"The beautiful girl, crushed under her master's heel, who secretly helps you save your comrade." That's the story you want, isn't it, Gai?
Inori murmured to herself, smiling without warmth, and turned back toward the classrooms.
She stopped.
Something she hadn't dealt with yet.
"King Crimson."
"Contact Shu Ouma for me."
A burst of crimson light bloomed outward from her body. Empowered by the Void and evolved into a Stand capable of remote independent operation, King Crimson materialized — received a look from Inori, and immediately dissolved into its spirit form, passing clean through the walls of the building and shooting outward.
King Crimson: Void Mode. In exchange for power and speed, its range stat — originally E — had been elevated to A. Power and speed had dropped to C as the cost. As a combat Stand it was nearly useless, but Inori only called on it for specialized tasks and to maintain the performance of being Diavolo.
Shu Ouma's mind had gone a little numb.
He'd been taken to GHQ and interrogated by an officer with violet hair and a cybernetic eye. His name was Segai, rank Major, and everything about him looked like trouble — especially the way he settled so comfortably into the work. But he hadn't resorted to violence. He'd used pressure instead. Logic. Emotional appeals.
Shu was seventeen. An unarmed teenager against relentless psychological interrogation. He'd been running on empty for hours. The only thing keeping him from cracking and giving Inori up was the faith he'd placed in her — that this was her plan, that this was temporary, that the suffering would pass.
She didn't warn me ahead of time because she knew I'd chicken out if she did.
No resentment toward her. Everything he'd seen — he'd chalked up to the paranoia that comes from feeling betrayed. This was a trial. Pass it, and she'd notice him.
But what exactly am I supposed to do?
And more urgently: he'd been in Funeral Parlor for less than twenty-four hours. He had no intelligence to give Segai even if he wanted to. Answering every question with "I don't know," from someone who was also Dr. Haruka Ouma's son — Segai hadn't been willing to lay a hand on him, which meant he'd settled for grinding him down verbally instead.
The interrogation had paused. Shu sat alone in a dim, damp cell. Everything on his person had been confiscated. He was wearing a white detainee uniform.
An officer with glasses — Major Rowan — came by and lobbed a plastic bag of soft noodles in his direction. Shu's stomach had been growling for hours, so he just grimaced and picked it up.
So this is the food they said would be terrible.
After a full afternoon of nonstop questioning, he was wrung out in every possible way. He'd stopped caring about taste. He tore the wrapper open.
"How's the accommodations, Shu Ouma?"
"...Huh?"
He thought he was hearing things. But no — that had been a real voice. Shu flinched badly enough to drop the noodles. He scrambled to his feet and looked around, frantic — and found a small communications device wedged into the corner of the bed frame.
"Don't be scared. I'm an ally of Inori's. Stay calm and listen to me."
A middle-aged man's voice. Low and steady. Shu swallowed and picked up the tiny device, turning it in his palm.
"Sir — are you nearby? If you are... please, get me out of here!"
"You're not in any danger."
The voice belonged to spirit-state King Crimson — which could produce sound on its own — aided by an old walkie-talkie unit Inori had quietly planted. The device was so outdated that GHQ's signal monitors couldn't lock onto its frequency, and it only worked over a very limited range. Neither of those things was a problem for King Crimson.
"If they'd wanted to hurt you, you wouldn't be answering my questions right now."
"I know, but... I don't think I can hold out much longer..."
The psychological weight of prolonged interrogation broke professional adults. One teenager was never going to be immune to it.
"Do what Inori told you. Act like you're angry at Gai. That's all."
"And more importantly — right now — there's a key that can open your cell door. It's under the bed."
King Crimson had lifted Major Rowan's ID card without anyone noticing. Its access level could open every lock in the facility.
"What?"
Shu stared.
"This will probably make things harder for you in the short run. But if you've committed to Funeral Parlor — you knew what you were signing up for."
...
Opening the door and running wasn't a real escape plan. Shu understood that. Armed guards would put him back on the floor in under thirty seconds, and attempting a breakout would almost certainly earn him harsher treatment. But...
She's asking me to do this. She wants me to see it through.
He thought of Inori's smile. And courage filled in where certainty couldn't.
"I'll do it."