Emilia froze for a moment as she took in the sight of Ayanokoji holding Felt. She quickly recovered, raising her hand to manifest a halo of ice spears. "You're the ones who stole it! Return it now! I know you're not bad people, so if you give it back, I'll let you go!"
Facing the threat, Ayanokoji reached into Felt's pocket with his free hand, fished out the Royal Insignia, and tossed it casually to Emilia. "I believe this belongs to you. There's been a misunderstanding; I'm just an innocent bystander." He then shifted his weight, keeping a firm grip on Felt.
"You jerk..." Felt muttered, her body coiled like a cornered cat, eyes darting for any gap in his stance.
"Eh?" Emilia caught the insignia, stunned. She had prepared for a confrontation, not a polite return. She looked at the stranger who claimed to be a "Good Samaritan," her guard still up but her confusion mounting.
"As you can see, I was being mugged by these three," Ayanokoji said, nodding toward the pile of unconscious thugs. "I was forced to defend myself. This young lady happened to run into the fray at the same time. I assumed she was their accomplice and neutralized her. I only realized she had your property when I felt the badge in her pocket."
While speaking, Ayanokoji's eyes locked onto the green crystal at Emilia's neck. In the previous loop, Puck had mentioned his ability to sense emotions. Ayanokoji wondered: was it just "vibrations," or could the spirit actually read thoughts?
To test the limits of this world's "magic," Ayanokoji performed a high-risk experiment. While maintaining a calm, helpful dialogue with Emilia, he began to meticulously plot her murder in his mind. He visualized the exact angle to strike her vitals. Yet, his pulse remained at 60 BPM. His facial muscles didn't twitch. He radiated zero malice—only cold, mechanical calculation.
"From what I can see, he's telling the truth."
Puck manifested from the crystal, floating cross-legged in the air. He glanced at the thugs, then drifted closer to Ayanokoji. "But Lia... this guy is strange. His emotions are... silent. In four hundred years, I've never felt a soul this stable. There's no malice, but there's no... anything."
Puck's gaze was wary. He had met stoic knights and zen monks, but humans always leaked something—fear, pride, or simple attraction. To Puck, Ayanokoji didn't feel like a person; he felt like a hollow object that happened to be speaking. However, the lack of "Malice" (Harmful Intent) was the green light Emilia needed.
"I see. I'm so sorry for doubting you!" Emilia dispelled her ice and bowed deeply. "Thank you for your help. May I ask your name?"
"Kiyotaka Ayanokoji." He stated it for the second time in his existence, though to her, it was the first. He had confirmed his hypothesis: Puck could read the "weather" of a heart, but not the "map" of a mind.
"Um... since you got your toy back, can I go?" Felt squeezed out a nervous smile. "Can the scary guy put the knife down now?"
"Do you have any idea what kind of chaos you almost caused?!" Emilia turned her focus to Felt. Now that the insignia was safe, she didn't want a scene. "Don't ever do this again. Do you understand?"
"I'll change my ways! I swear!" Felt nodded vigorously, her eyes sparkling with the hope of escape.
Ayanokoji watched Felt out of the corner of his eye. His next objective was Elsa. To win, he needed Emilia, Puck, Felt, and Rom all working in concert. He knew Elsa would arrive at the storehouse by evening—or perhaps she was already watching from the shadows. This was his "Information Asymmetry": he knew the killer's schedule.
If he didn't deal with Elsa today, she would become a recurring nightmare. If Emilia didn't go to the slums, Elsa would simply find her elsewhere. It was better to fight a known ambush in a known location.
'I just need to guide them,' he thought. He had done the same with D-Class back in his old world, moving Horikita and the others like pieces on a board while he remained invisible.
"Chaos?" Ayanokoji asked at the perfect moment. "It's a beautiful badge, but surely one lost item won't bring down a kingdom?"
He played the "Ignorant Foreigner" card perfectly. If he showed he knew too much, he would become a suspect. He needed Emilia and Felt to explain the stakes to him.
'To me, people are either tools or obstacles,' Ayanokoji mused. 'If necessary, I'd discard Emilia without a second thought. But as a tool, she's remarkably high-quality. Simple, easy to influence... her guile is even shallower than Horikita's.'
In the classroom, Horikita Suzune's knuckles turned white. She had been worried about him, and yet his internal monologue was still using her as a benchmark for "inferior tools."
She glared at Ayanokoji. He remained an enigma, but the screen was stripping him bare. Ayanokoji knew his "denials" were failing; the world was seeing the monster beneath the skin.
"It's not just a badge!" Emilia corrected him. "It's the proof of a Royal Candidate!"
"What?! Royal Selection?!" Felt's pupils shrunk. "You... you're a candidate for the throne?!"
Ayanokoji's prediction hit the mark. Felt might not care about politics, but she knew the weight of the Crown. She realized she had accidentally tried to rob the future Queen of Lugunica.
"Yes. I am Emilia, a candidate for the Royal Selection. Please... keep this a secret."
"So you are Lady Emilia?" Ayanokoji performed a flawless, archaic aristocratic bow. "I have heard much of your grace. I am from the Empire of the Sun Never Sets. I am the third son of a certain Prince. I found palace life stifling and sought a journey of trial and experience. That is how I arrived in Lugunica."
He lied with the same tone a man uses to describe the weather. He needed a status equal to hers to ensure his "advice" carried weight. His knowledge of etiquette, drilled into him in the White Room, made the lie indistinguishable from truth.
"The Empire of the Sun Never Sets?" Emilia blinked. She had never heard of it, but the world was vast. Ayanokoji didn't treat her with the usual hatred or fear people usually felt for a Silver-Haired Half-Elf. That, combined with his refined movements and strange but high-quality clothing, made her believe 80% of his story.
"The world is a large place, Lady Emilia," he added. A vague but effective shield.
"I-I-I was just following orders!" Felt stammered, sweating. If she had known she was messing with a Royal Candidate and a foreign Prince, she would have never taken the job. "I didn't know who you were!"
"Orders? From whom?" Emilia's voice turned cold.
"I don't know her name! Black hair, black clothes, a mole on her face... she's beautiful but terrifying! I swear, that's all I know!"
Ayanokoji watched the pieces fall into place. Emilia's sternness and Felt's panic were exactly where he needed them. It was time to push them toward the storehouse—and toward the Bowel Hunter.
The script was set.
"Using mere words to lead others to their doom? How fascinating," a voice purred.
In a magnificent mansion, Priscilla Barielle leaned back on her silk sofa, her red fan obscuring her smirk. She watched the sky with a predatory interest. "To think Emilia found such a sharp tool... if he were to serve me, the throne would already be mine. I can feel it—that beautiful, arrogant 'Superiority' he hides behind that dull face."