After a brief visit, Akifumi's parents only stayed for a short while before heading back to the airport, skipping dinner.
Following a casual lunch in the airport lounge, the two boarded a private jet and returned to their Alan Institute in Singapore.
Meanwhile, Mugiho sat slumped in a chair in Narita Airport's lounge, the air conditioner humming softly as cold air brushed against him.
His eyes fixed on the large window, watching the distant plane shrink into the clouds until it vanished. With a heavy sigh, Akifumi muttered to himself,
"So… what am I supposed to do with this?"
He lifted his hand, examining the small bronze owl pendant his father had given him—a silent, cryptic gift.
———————————————————————
Just an hour ago, after their meal, Mugiho's mother suddenly grabbed Yor's arm, who was sitting beside her—and pulled her into an enthusiastic hug.
"Yor~! I just realized I forgot to buy souvenirs! Would you mind coming with me for a bit?"
"Eh?" Yor's voice wavered with uncertainty as she glanced at Mugiho and his father.
She wasn't sure if splitting up was a good idea.
The VIP airport lounge felt eerily empty, with only a handful of staff lingering nearby—each handpicked by Akifumi Ye himself.
Noticing Yor's hesitation, Akifumi Ye simply smiled.
"Go ahead, Yor. My wife could use the company. Meanwhile, I'd like to have a little father-son talk with Mugiho."
With that, he hooked an arm around Mugiho's neck in a playful headlock.
"Every now and then, a man needs some quality bonding time with his son."
'What is this old man even saying…' Mugiho, stuck in his father's grip, could only sigh with a deadpan expression.
"Come on, Yor! I bet we can find some cute clothes for you too! It's been ages since you went shopping, hasn't it?"
"No, Nakui-sama, you really don't have to—"
Before Yor could protest further—
Nakui's was already dragging her toward the exit, bubbling with excitement.
"Maybe we can even get your formal kimono!" Nakui chirped, her voice full of glee as she whisked Yor away.
Mugiho watched as his mother exited with Yor in hand, but a sudden headache made him wince. He turned back to his father.
"So, what's this about? Why did you want to talk to me alone?"
"Heh. As I thought—sharp as ever."
'Of course I know…' Mugiho thought.
Ever since tea time, his father had avoided any meaningful conversation—especially about their family.
He'd chatted about everything else while Yor was in the room, skirting the subject as if he either didn't want to discuss it… or didn't want someone else to hear.
Akifumi Ye raised a hand and gave a casual wave.
The staff on standby immediately filed out of the VIP lounge. In under a minute, the room was empty—just father and son left in the silence.
'Is this the power of money?' Mugiho mused.
Having been raised as an ordinary person, this kind of treatment still unsettled him. The only times he'd experienced something similar were during visits to anime studios or publisher offices.
Akifumi Ye pulled a sleek white box from his jacket—Primeros by Davidoff Dominican printed in elegant script.
He flipped it open, retrieved a single cigarette, and tucked the rest away.
Mugiho watched as his father carefully trimmed the tip with a straight cutter.
"I didn't know you smoked," he said, surprised.
In all his memories, he'd never seen him touch a cigarette.
Akifumi Ye chuckled. "I quit after marrying your mother."
"Then why now?"
His father didn't answer. Instead, he lit the cigarette, took a slow, deep drag, and exhaled before setting it down.
"Well… a lot of things." Akifumi Ye's face grew distant, exhaustion creeping into his voice.
"You know my given name is 'Ye,' right?"
"Yes. What's wrong with that?"
"It's the bloodline. Your grandmother wasn't Japanese—she was Chinese. These days, people here are slowly opening up to foreigners, but back then?" He let out a dry laugh. "I wasn't so lucky."
"Your grandfather adored her. Truly. He pampered her—gifts, affection, all of it. The man who ruled boardrooms with an iron fist would melt in her presence. People whispered, 'Who is this woman who tamed the Fujiwara heir?'"
Akifumi's knuckles whitened around his cigarette. "But not everyone approved. The old families—those relics clinging to a dead era—raged."
"'The Fujiwara have fallen to outsiders,' they said. Power is a cruel game, Mugiho. When you have too much, others scavenge for flaws. And your grandmother blood? To them, it was a stain."
"Your grandfather fought to silence them. But the moment he died…" The ember of his cigarette flared as he inhaled sharply. "They came for me. The heir with 'outsider' blood."
Mugiho stay silence.
Humans were like this, weren't they? Even among their own kind—dividing, mocking, carving wounds over meaningless differences.
Like Eriri said… some people are just idiots.
Akifumi Ye studied Mugiho's annoyed expression and chuckled, stroking his son's hair before continuing.
"When you were born, we both wanted the best for you. We wanted you to live freely—to never have to worry about any of this."
"We wanted you to have the power to choose your own future."
He took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the dimly lit room.
"So, we created new identities and moved to Japan, hoping to give you something close to a normal life."
"But the Fujiwara family still has obligations—duties we couldn't abandon. That's why we often traveled overseas: to manage things while keeping our other lives hidden."
His voice turned cold as he crushed the cigarette into the ashtray.
"To the outside world, the Akifumi family—your mother's side was just another ordinary household. That's how it should have stayed."
Mugiho frowned. "What happened?"
"Mugiho, remember what I told you before? Our family owns a security company here in Japan."
"Yeah… What about it?" Mugiho feigned confusion, though his mind raced, comparing his father's words to what he already knew.
"When I said Japan was safe, especially Tokyo—I wasn't joking. You've lived here your whole life. Haven't you noticed?" Akifumi's gaze sharpened.
"No terrorism. No murders. No kidnappings. No illegal arms trafficking. Hell, not even any robberies. Doesn't that strike you as… unnatural?"
"…Now that you mention it, yeah. It is weird." Mugiho played along, letting his father unravel the truth piece by piece.
In any normal society, it was strange. No matter how well-governed, crime was inevitable—a symptom of human nature itself.
Society was built on inequality. At birth, everyone might appear equal, but gaps quickly emerged—through effort, privilege, or sheer luck.
Weaknesses festered. Resentments grew. And where there was imbalance, crime followed. Humanity had never been good at accepting unfairness quietly.
"Because it is unnatural," Mugiho father leaned forward, his voice dropping. "This is all happen because of DA—Direct Attack. Their mission is to keep Japan 'clean'… by any means necessary."
"'Clean'?" Mugiho echoed.
Akifumi's eyes locked onto his son's. "You're smart. You've spent enough time with Yor. Surely, you've noticed something… off about her?"
Mugiho stayed silent. It wasn't just him—Mahiru and Eriri thought so too.
And that meant something, considering Mashiro was hardly a benchmark for normalcy.
But Yor? She didn't just blur the line between odd and unsettling—she erased it entirely. She'd once asked them what manga was, for god's sake.
Akifumi chuckled. "That's how effective DA is. But recently… something unexpected happened."
"Do you remember?"
Mugiho frowned, sifting through memories.
His mind raced, stitching together his father's cryptic hints.
'DA is the reason why they left me in Tokyo—right where Lycoris agents roam the streets, "cleaning" threats before they even surface—'
Then it hit him.
"Wait." His breath caught. "Are you talking about that car accident?"