Chapter Seventy-One: Oddities

Three days ago, at the Peninsula Hotel in Tokyo, after a long and exhausting strategy meeting, Ji Ning decided to order a room service set meal. Apart from Chu Zhaoyan, who was slightly surprised, the other three showed no reaction to Ji Ning’s decision. In fact, one of them even requested that Ji Ning order several extra servings of tiramisu. Only after Ji Ning had blissfully finished his sumptuous afternoon tea did Chu Zhaoyan finally ask, “I’ve been curious from the start—where does your funding come from? How can you afford to stay in a top suite and still splurge like this?”

Chu Zhaoyan discreetly shifted her gaze away from the pile of shopping spoils scattered around; she was certain that this level of purchasing power shouldn’t belong to young people their age. Drawing on her years of experience, she was convinced none of them were born with a silver spoon. They lacked that innate air of indifference to money that comes from a privileged upbringing. The only one who looked even remotely well-off, Ji Ning, was more of a nouveau riche type.

Qin Mo was just about to explain when Afra, who had already devoured three tiramisus, spoke up bluntly and pointed at Ji Ning. “He has nothing but money.”

Ji Ning didn’t mind at all. He straightened his collar and replied solemnly, “She’s right.”

Chu Zhaoyan wasn’t the type to dig obsessively into every mystery, so she simply nodded and headed out. Everyone had their secrets; perhaps Ji Ning’s superpower was wealth.

After she left, Ji Ning, beaming with pride, produced his black card. “Anyone want to spend one last perfect afternoon free from missions?”

Aside from Afra, who squealed like an overexcited fangirl, both Katherine and Qin Mo remained composed—Katherine had to draw up operational plans, and Qin Mo needed to check equipment. The two exchanged a silent look, both showing a hint of resignation.

Ji Ning and Afra had already anticipated this outcome, so they simply shrugged and left humming tunes.

Half an hour later, Katherine and Qin Mo, both deeply focused on their respective tasks, were interrupted by a rapid knock at the door. Qin Mo, being closest, opened it and was startled. When Katherine saw Ji Ning and Afra, she too was surprised.

Ji Ning wore a mournful expression, and Afra’s eyes were red—both looked like children whose beloved candy had been snatched away.

Before Ji Ning could speak, Afra choked out, “It’s all gone. Everything’s gone.”

Qin Mo quickly embraced Afra. “What’s gone?”

Afra finally broke down in tears. “All the money on Ji Ning’s black card is gone. The card’s been frozen.”

Katherine took the card and, after scanning the embedded magnetic strip, found the freeze notification. She shot Ji Ning a complicated look. “The card’s been voluntarily frozen by its owner for one month.”

Ji Ning was momentarily stunned, then heaved a deep sigh of relief. He’d feared that the organization called “Nobody” had gone bankrupt. Stroking his chin, he pondered for a moment and finally concluded that the organization must be facing a financial crunch.

Katherine didn’t press Ji Ning about his knowing look. She’d long suspected the origins of his card, but that wasn’t her concern. Seeing Ji Ning nod, she handed the thin card back to him and turned to her computer. For the first time, the always-cool Katherine showed a flicker of panic.

Her computer, the one she’d used during her studies at Deer Academy, had suddenly gone black. She quickly removed the academy’s custom network card, physically severing any chance of data leakage. But then a line of text appeared on the screen, sending a chill down her spine:

“You’re clever—not like those arrogant hackers who try to trace my IP.”

Katherine sighed. She knew that from the moment the virus infiltrated, she’d lost all initiative.

Her conclusion was swift: until she could bring the laptop back to the academy for her instructors to inspect, she’d be unable to contact Deer Academy through this device. Better to swap out the computer than risk punishment for leaking academy information.

But soon she made a devastating discovery: the entire team’s funding chain had been cleanly severed.

All of Deer Academy’s mission funds had been transferred to a local bank card before the mission began, and that card, loaded with their entire budget, was now in Zhao Tianxing’s possession.

After Katherine calmly explained this fact, two of her listeners immediately expressed their inability to accept it, and the third conceded after checking the balance on her phone.

Katherine sighed again. “Unless we’re using devices recognized by Deer Academy, we can’t access the academy’s website for help.”

In the ensuing gloom, everyone pooled their private stashes. Unexpectedly, the richest among them was the easygoing Afra—when converted to yen, it at least didn’t look quite so pitiful.

Qin Mo’s penniless state was expected by Ji Ning, but Katherine’s equally empty pockets caught him off guard. Noticing Ji Ning’s odd look, Katherine explained openly, “I spent all my money.”

Ji Ning believed her—Katherine wasn’t the type to squirrel away pocket money. Still, he was curious where it had all gone. In the end, he decided not to pry; resisting the urge to invade others’ privacy was a core lesson at Deer Academy.

After careful calculations, Katherine allocated everyone’s funds so they’d just scrape by. Ji Ning raised his hand. “Are we still staying at the hotel?” Katherine shook her head, then nodded. “We’ve prepaid for our rooms, but given our straitened finances, we’ll have to give up two rooms. I’ll share with Qin Mo and Afra in the remaining ones.”

Ji Ning immediately noticed the omission. “What about me?”

Katherine shook her head. “Sorry, but you’ll need to find a place to rent. You should also look for a part-time job. We must save some funds for future actions.”

Ji Ning raised two fingers. “If we give up two rooms, there are still two left—one of you could have a room to yourself!”

Katherine blinked. “Do you really think, under these circumstances, you’ll be sharing a room with a young lady?”

Ji Ning protested, “I could sleep on the floor!”

Katherine shook her head. “Improper.”

Qin Mo seemed about to say something, but in the end blushed and stepped behind Katherine.

Ji Ning glared at Katherine as though betrayed. “I could share with Afra—would that make you suspicious too?”

Before he finished, Afra had already flipped him onto the floor with an over-the-shoulder throw, glaring. “What do you mean by that—are you saying with me, you couldn’t lose control? Am I that unappealing?”

In the end, Ji Ning slunk out of the hotel, defeated. He’d almost worn down Qin Mo, but Katherine’s final words had effectively sealed his fate.

“As the only man in the group, do you expect us to go scout the Cult of Carnal Flesh ourselves? Sending you out to work isn’t just about saving money—gathering every anomaly in this city is your main task.”

Ji Ning didn’t know that after his departure, Katherine breathed a sigh of relief. She had no intention of letting anyone share a room with Ji Ning—who knew what might happen? She shot a subtle glance at the absent-minded Qin Mo.

Although Japan is a society obsessed with qualifications, there are always jobs that don’t care about such things. When Ji Ning, sore and exhausted, took off his mascot costume and collected his wages, he sorely missed his former carefree self.

Night fell as Ji Ning walked alone back to his rented room. Having fallen to living hand-to-mouth on part-time jobs, he could no longer afford central Tokyo. His place was an hour’s subway ride from work. These past few days of corporate drudgery had left him with a touch of sympathy for the Japanese—not every country’s subway had staff whose job was to push passengers into the cars.

Had Ji Ning not witnessed the incident that night, Koji Shiina would have had a full minute of fame on the morning news the next day. But life offers no what-ifs. Subduing an ordinary person was simple enough, but Ji Ning sensed something unusual about this would-be robber, who was supposed to be just a regular man. Ji Ning knelt, his expression grave. “I don’t know who sent you, but if you get any closer to that person, the next time I see you, you won’t enjoy the same human rights you did today.”

Ji Ning let him go, then turned to the indifferent victims, curious why the Cult of Carnal Flesh would target someone as seemingly ordinary as his neighbor.

Koji Shiina was stunned. The word “bizarre” best described his recent experiences, sobering him almost instantly. Although the boy before him was even younger than he was, a drowning man will clutch at any straw—he just needed something to hold on to.

When Ji Ning recognized a familiar face in the video, he immediately understood what kind of footage he was watching. He’d found a sacrificial site, but there was no satisfaction—had he found it earlier, perhaps that woman might have survived.

Koji Shiina didn’t dare disturb the grim-faced Ji Ning. If he’d had no hope in Ji Ning before, the shift in the young man’s demeanor made him begin to believe—maybe, just maybe, this seemingly casual boy could truly handle the situation.

The video, shot from too far away to be clear, was still unmistakable for its flashes of red, the faint, agonized cries of the videographer audible between breaths. Ji Ning remained silent for a long time, the dim room thick with dust, rodents scurrying across the floor.

In such silence, the night seemed to magnify everything. Koji Shiina distinctly heard the words: “I’ll take care of this.” He looked up to see the boy, expressionless beneath the fluorescent light.

In the outskirts of Tokyo, a nearly hidden cottage covered in ivy and surrounded by weeds beneath broken windows, a group of people gathered inside its long-neglected walls.

“Chiyu Igarashi, we’ve done everything you asked. As expected, both the SCP Foundation and the Global Occult Coalition have shifted their focus to the altar. I guarantee their attention is now entirely on searching for the divine feast’s altar,” said the impatient old man, Hiroya Yamamoto, whom Ji Ning’s group had only recently encountered.

The man in the white trench coat replied calmly, “That is excellent.”

“No need to beat around the bush. Since the plan is proceeding, it’s time you told us how your ritual works,” said Ryunosuke Kago, arms folded, his sharp gaze unflinching.

Chiyu Igarashi nodded. “I know you’ll never fully trust the Inner Sanctum. As a gesture of good faith, I’ll tell you everything.” At this, Ryunosuke Kago scoffed. Chiyu Igarashi didn’t mind; nobody was a child—adults cared only for interests, and everyone knew the other would never reveal all.

“These are no longer the golden days of the Cult of Carnal Flesh. Our battle with the Broken God Church cost us dearly—our legacy books lost, our ascendant magi now in slumber. The means to amass the immense thaumaturgic power needed for a Saint’s Descension are forgotten. But once, by accident, I entered the Library of the Forgotten. There, I found a new method: by summoning demons from the Hebrew pantheon, one can amass great thaumaturgic power. That power, combined with the Blade of Sarn our Inner Sanctum unearthed a month ago, can drive the Saint’s Descension ritual for the Cult of Carnal Flesh.” Chiyu Igarashi adjusted his glasses, his tone flat and emotionless.

“How do you prove your method will work?” Hiroya Yamamoto’s voice was equally calm. Though prepared, he was still shaken by the young man’s claims. The conversion of distinct thaumaturgic energies had always been the stuff of legend—alchemists who pursued such unification either burned for blasphemy or perished from the annihilation of conflicting forces. But if Chiyu Igarashi dared speak so openly, the Inner Sanctum must have experience with success. However incredible it seemed, Hiroya Yamamoto was too seasoned to show any emotion now.

“If there were no chance of success, would the Inner Sanctum have sent me all this way?” Chiyu Igarashi met Hiroya Yamamoto’s gaze with calm assurance.

“Time, location, plan,” Hiroya Yamamoto demanded tersely. He didn’t ask for more—not because he trusted Chiyu Igarashi, but because he understood the Inner Sanctum. They would never waste time on the pointless. From the moment they contacted him, he’d been prepared. Though as a traditionalist he shouldn’t have dealings with the New Cult, at his level, all creeds were but smoke before self-interest.

“One month.” After a moment’s silence, Chiyu Igarashi gave his answer.

Seeing no further questions, Chiyu Igarashi continued, “I want you to find a sufficiently hidden location in the city ahead of time. I’ll handle the rest myself.”

Hiroya Yamamoto nodded; he didn’t care if Chiyu Igarashi took on the bulk of responsibilities. The result was all he valued.

“And I want no killings by your people during this time. I also need you to use non-violent means to prevent everyone on this list from continuing their work.” Chiyu Igarashi drew a list from his pocket and handed it over.

“What do the people on this list do?” Hiroya Yamamoto glanced over it, noting the absence of prominent officials, then asked.

“Forensic pathologists,” Chiyu Igarashi replied, adjusting his glasses again.

Hiroya Yamamoto tucked the list away and left with Ryunosuke Kago. “Give me a day.” Though Chiyu Igarashi had never truly introduced himself, Hiroya Yamamoto now understood his position in the city.

Chiyu Igarashi stood quietly watching them go. He glanced at his watch, adjusted his clothes, and strode out into the night.