Chapter 39
Leibo Street.
Rather than describing it as a street, it would be more accurate to describe it as "a mortar-shaped pit with a diameter of two kilometers".
Located on an artificial island next to the Yokohama concession, it is one of the important ports for foreign trade.
Three years ago, the explosion on the artificial island was so sudden and bizarre that people were more inclined to believe that some kind of monster awakened by hatred destroyed everything than to believe that it was a real medium- or long-range weapon like missiles. It left behind a huge crater that looked like a spoonful of earth had been scraped away.
Even more unusual was the government's response to the disaster.
They made no explicit condemnation or protest against the attack, and even the news simply reported what they saw and said they would search for survivors before the matter was casually ignored.
After that, the government did not clean up or fill in the mortar-shaped pit, but instead allowed it to be occupied by nearby homeless people, who built one tin shack after another, with sewage flowing freely along the narrow stone-paved road, and illegally strung electrical wires and water pipes tangled together, making this living environment, which should not exist in the first place, even more crowded.
Finally, this place not only became a gathering place for the poorest of the poor, but also a place where fugitives, smugglers, and mafia members who made their profits through violence all converged—another, bloodier, and more brutal dark order was quietly established.
In Leibo Street, power is everything, and weakness is an unforgivable original sin.
While mainstream society might regard superpowers as urban legends, in Leibo Street, superpowers more lethal than gunpowder are not unusual at all, not to mention the common guns and ammunition that can be bought at a low price.
In short, it is quite dangerous for outsiders to come here.
Moreover, one of the two who came together did not look healthy—his pale face and thin figure, coupled with the thick cloak and felt hat he wore for warmth, were enough to make some amateurs start to assess where it would be easier to start.
Those with a keen eye would notice that the bronze-haired boy accompanying the other party displayed extremely skillful and experienced movements.
He wasn't wearing a jacket; the tactical suspenders used to store his dual pistols were exposed, neatly outlined on his shoulders and back.
When the movement is slightly larger, the dark-colored shirt that is restrained will develop small wrinkles.
When his warning gaze sweeps precisely over those covetous eyes, a smart person will know perfectly well that the other party is doing this on purpose—he is not an ignorant outsider, but someone like them, living in another world.
Don't provoke them.
The rustling sounds gradually disappeared, and those desires, whether for exploration or greed, were withdrawn. No one paid any more attention to the two unfamiliar intruders.
Oda Sakunosuke also withdrew his unusually unrestrained and sharp demeanor and turned to answer Ye Yihe's question.
"This is the right way."
“Not far from the factory warehouse over there, there was a dilapidated low house,” he recalled, “that’s where I met him.”
"What is he doing there?" Ye Yihe asked.
"The battle seemed to be about rescuing someone." Oda Sakunosuke didn't have Fyodor's photographic memory after all. "I happened to be here to meet my employer."
"Are there employers here who can afford to pay you?"
Ye Yihe was a little surprised, after all, the scenes along the way clearly showed poverty and struggle, and the reward for Oda to complete a mission was not low.
"It's the port mafia of Yokohama."
Oda Sakunosuke explained to him, "They control almost 80% of Yokohama's illegal economic resources, and they won't let this place go either. Because it's close to the port of entry and has long been abandoned by the government, it's quite convenient for both smuggling and illegal immigration."
"I received a commission to assassinate the leader of a rival organization, who was hiding here."
Ye Yihe nodded as if he understood, "And then?"
"The request was not successfully accepted."
Oda Sakunosuke replied expressionlessly, "My employer was killed before I arrived at the agreed location."
This kind of thing isn't particularly rare, but it made him make a wasted trip.
Ye Yihe: "...Ah, this is really bad luck."
Hopefully, this trip will be successful in finding his target; he doesn't have much time left to remain conscious.
Even though time was limited, he emphasized to Oda Sakunosuke in advance that even if their personalities were swapped, he should still ask for help to continue training Pushkin—Oda Sakunosuke thought for a moment and then seriously agreed.
By the time Ye Yihe and Oda Sakunosuke arrived at the warehouse, it was already quite late. The slanted, elongated afterglow could not penetrate the deep pit of Leibo Street, adding a touch of gloom to the already chaotic and crowded environment.
But unlike other parts of Leibo Street, this warehouse was unexpectedly guarded by many soldiers in uniform suits, each armed with a submachine gun.
There were also many patrolling people wearing sunglasses, and Ye Yihe was quite curious whether they could still see the road clearly in this weather.
"This warehouse belongs to the port mafia, and some smuggled goods are transshipped here."
Without getting too close, Oda explained to him in a low voice, "But I didn't see this many guards when I came here last time, which is unusual."
"Are the goods inside extremely valuable, to prevent robbery?" Ye Yihe guessed.
Oda Sakunosuke shook his head at him, indicating that he didn't know either.
"Wait a little longer. If I can't see him, I'll go ask the local bullies. They always have better information."
Ye Yihe nodded in agreement with the proposal.
Fortunately, they were lucky and didn't have to wait long before a figure appeared in an unexpected way.
He fell straight down from a distance, like a dazzling shooting star streaking across the sky.
The seemingly sturdy warehouse was no match for such immense potential energy; large sections of the walls shattered, and red mud bricks were scattered everywhere—the roof also slowly tilted, eventually collapsing in one corner.
Immediately following the loud thud, a barrage of gunfire erupted, with countless bullets raining down on the figure standing on the ruins.
Even though he was standing on high ground with his hands in his pockets, he showed no sign of holding any weapons.
But the guards were even more on high alert, firing their guns without hesitation, not daring to underestimate him because of his young age—indeed, the uninvited guest who suddenly launched the attack could be called a child rather than a teenager.
Ye Yihe compared the size from a distance and estimated that the other person was probably only ten years old, with a slender and short figure; the face was too far away to see clearly, but the orange-brown hair was particularly eye-catching and could be recognized from a distance.
In N's research institute, he had seen the same hair color on those experimental subjects.
Furthermore, the opponent remained unscathed despite the barrage of bullets, and completed the counterattack almost instantly.
Without moving an inch, he easily returned all the incoming bullets intact, triggering a series of screams and wails.
Ye Yihe had also witnessed this technique of bouncing objects on Verlaine.
The outward manifestation of conventional power is the same as that of the assassin king; the hair color matches the experimental subjects in the research institute, so it's highly likely.
It can be basically deduced that Ye Yihe is another artificial superhuman created by N.
He was much younger than Verlaine, which means he was probably only seven or eight years old when the explosion happened three years ago.
Taking out N with one shot was too easy for that guy.
The war at the warehouse was a one-sided affair, a complete rout—even Ivan, with his already powerful abilities, could only maneuver around Verlaine, let alone the ordinary Mafia personnel who could only use firepower.
After a few breaths, only one winner remained standing.
"Should we go and contact him?" Oda Sakunosuke asked Ye Yihe.
“Not for now,” Ye Yihe replied softly. “He wouldn’t attack the Mafia’s warehouse at the port without a reason. I want to see what happens next.”
“Hmm.” Oda Sakunosuke turned his gaze back to the warehouse ruins in the distance.
Sure enough, not long after, several older teenagers ran out of the collapsed hole and surrounded the artificial superhuman with orange-brown hair, seemingly cheering. Ye Yihe and the others were still quite a distance from the warehouse and could not hear the voices from that side, nor could they even make out their appearances.
Is it a friend...? This thought popped into Ye Yihe's mind, but he quickly dismissed it.
Because that scene didn't last long, they turned into a confrontational stance, as if they were arguing.
The argument didn't subside over time; instead, it escalated.
Ye Yihe subconsciously glanced at Oda Sakunosuke beside him—who, who had been focused on the warehouse, also immediately noticed Ye Yihe's gaze and, almost without hesitation, raised his gun to aim at the boys who were shouting something—
Ye Yihe quickly raised his hand to lower the gun barrel.
He had only given his close friend a subtle, smug look; he wasn't signaling him to take action.
When Oda hesitated and put away his gun, Ye Yihe turned his attention back to the warehouse and realized that the artificial superhuman who had just saved the lives of those boys had broken away from the group, with his hands in his pockets, and was walking alone in their direction.
This is a great opportunity to get to know the other person!
Just as Ye Yihe was about to go over, the system's voice suddenly rang in his mind—
[Attention, host: Your mental strength has dropped to the warning level and you will be forced into hibernation soon; repeating: Your mental strength has dropped to the warning level...]
To hand over your body at such a crucial moment!?
"Why did it have to be now..."
He didn't even have time to leave Fedor a single text message!
[System, when you return the data, simply black out all memories from the time I was present. Don't try to rationalize those memories!]
【Huh? Is this okay...?】The system voice stuttered a bit upon hearing this command.
[Listen to me, just cut it off!] Ye Yihe's thoughts raced through his mind. [Remember, don't rationalize his memories...]
—At the same time, as Oda Sakunosuke turned around upon hearing that muttering, Ye Yihe only had time to hurriedly call out "Oda Sakunosuke" before his consciousness was completely enveloped in darkness, as if he had suddenly plunged into the sea.
"Feijia...?"
"You can see the warehouse from here. Where did you come from?"
The scene, with only three people, became chaotic. Just as Oda Sakunosuke was about to ask Ye Yihe, who had uttered those words, what had happened, the artificial ability user who had spotted them also spoke up, his tone unusually wary.
"How long have you been monitoring them?"
Those large, round blue eyes narrowed slightly, giving off a threatening air, as if they were about to kick you all away at the slightest provocation.
Even though he has not lived on Leibo Street for three years, he has already learned to be wary of strangers.
Oda Sakunosuke's attention was almost entirely focused on Ye Yihe, rather than on answering questions about artificial superpowers.
"It's alright now."
A clear, gentle boyish voice rang out, and Oda Sakunosuke watched as the other person slowly blinked and smiled at him.
Then, those wine-red eyes focused on the still wary third person. "I think I've come to see you," he said, a faint smile still playing on his lips, as he introduced himself, "My name is Fyodor, Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky. May I exchange names with you?"
"...Nakahara Chuuya".
Perhaps stunned by the excessively long name, Chuuya Nakahara paused for a moment before slowly answering the question, "What do you need me for?"
He wasn't worried about his life. Even though he wasn't very old, his special ability had made him invincible in the three years he had lived in Leibo Street.
Fyodor withdrew his gaze from the boys who were leaving with their backs to him in the distance, and spoke thoughtfully.
"I'm just standing up for you, Chuuya-kun."
“Your companions,” he said, raising his right hand and pressing it lightly against his left chest.
His eyes, which leaned towards a dark purple in the dim light, were lowered, and his fine eyelashes concealed his emotions, yet he exuded a holy aura of a divine being, as if he were a compassionate son of heaven.
“They never cared about your thoughts. They treated you as a handy gun, a sharp knife, but never considered your opinion—I am saddened by the loneliness in your heart.”
Chuuya Nakahara paused for a moment, but instead of denying what he said, he chose to change the subject.
"You were eavesdropping on our argument?"
“Don’t worry, I didn’t actually hear anything.” Fyodor looked up at him. “I just saw it, their silent exclusion of you, their dependence on you.”
In fact, he didn't see it either.
Unlike the previous hallucinations, Fyodor noticed a gap in his memory as soon as his consciousness returned.
One moment they were about to shoot Mr. Bernhardt, and the next they found themselves in an unfamiliar place—a slum made up of countless tin shacks, nestled in a deep, hemispherical pit.
Based on the presence of Oda Sakunosuke beside him and Nakahara Chuuya, who spoke Japanese, he judged that he was most likely in Yokohama, Japan.
Apart from that, this missing memory offered him no clues.
All those words were deductions drawn by Fyodor based on the details he observed in that instant.
—Those people were about the same age as Chuuya Nakahara, and were most likely a vulnerable group living together in the slums.
—Everyone's clothes were covered in the same dust, which confirmed that the collapsed warehouse in the distance was the source.
—On the ground lay only corpses dressed in identical suits, armed with the same type of guns, their blood still fresh, indicating a one-sided battle had recently taken place, and that the enemy belonged to a certain Mafia organization.
—From Chuuya's questioning, we can tell that they do not know each other, but the fact that he came alone did not receive even a single worried look back from those people indicates that there is not enough emotional bond between them, or perhaps they are in a strong disagreement.
By listing just four points, Fyodor could outline the cause and effect of the scene he had just glimpsed: a vulnerable group in the slums acquired powerful [weapons] one day and therefore wanted to take revenge on the mafia that ruled the area.
However, they themselves have no power, and the only consequence of blindly provoking is being captured. They must wait for the only weapon they can use to come to their rescue.
And then what? [Weapons] worried about their lives and tried to persuade them to stop doing such dangerous things, but all they got in return was dissatisfaction and accusations.
Well, perhaps a little jealousy and arrogance should also be added—if the original leader had these personality traits, the [weapon] would also suffer from the other party's insignificant mental suppression.
What a waste!
Fyodor's gaze fell on Chuuya Nakahara, his eyes soft as if he were empathizing with Chuuya's plight. "Want to come to my side, Chuuya-kun? I want to make you happier—the bonds of friendship and family can't be bought with power alone, can they?"
"…………"
Chuuya Nakahara stared at him, his eyes wide. His beautiful blue pupils seemed to shimmer faintly in the darkening sky, like the surface of the sea under the moonlight.
“…No, that won’t do,” he finally said after a long silence, “If I leave, they will definitely…”
"Will I definitely die?"
Fyodor spoke softly, yet he could easily grasp the key to their wavering hearts: "Chūya-kun, I think it is precisely because of you that they dare to take risks. Weak lives should live weak lives. You gave them the illusion of power, making them reckless and arrogant, and carelessly putting their lives in danger."
"Don't you think... only by leaving can they return to their previous way of life and treat their lives more carefully?"
The sweet, dark allure of the demon is silently weaving a net, quietly waiting for its prey to take the bait.
"...And what are you referring to over there?"
This time, Chuuya Nakahara took longer to think before looking up and asking him.
At eleven years old, he had no memories of the past. This restarted life began three years ago—his memories before that were a dark, murky, and lifeless void.
Before being picked up by the sheep, he didn't even know how to survive; but after being picked up by the sheep, he became even more confused about his place in the world.
Is it just a useful hand? Is he using this ability to gain acceptance? He seems to be trying to find his place, but there is no empty space left for this piece on the chessboard.
If this guy hadn't pointed it out, he might have comforted himself and thought that continuing to live like this was still possible.
But if what he said about "over there" could give me what I want...
"I……"
With a slight smile playing on his lips, Fyodor was about to speak when Oda Sakunosuke abruptly interrupted him.
“I was entrusted to come and take care of you,” Oda Sakunosuke said calmly. “Once you are sure you can accept it, your background, including the essence you are searching for, will be answered.”
“That’s what you wanted to say, isn’t it?”—His gaze shifted to his friend beside him, “Fyodor.”
"Yes, that's right."
Without raising any objections, Fyodor's eyes even curved slightly, as if he truly believed it, and his mood became cheerful.
Hidden by his cloak, he rubbed his left thumb against the knuckle of his index finger and slowly pressed down.
The familiar dull pain gnawed at his nerves, yet it almost made Fyodor laugh.
There was a fresh, deep, and heavy bite mark there.
It was like a silent message, or a mute warning.
Is this your response to that statement?
My upper body.
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