"You're the only real human." Those words were still spinning in his chest. Tatsuki Takuma settled onto a barstool, staring blankly at the tiramisu remains on his plate. Because he'd eaten it frozen, the fork marks looked like an archaeological dig site. (A real human, huh.) He didn't understand the meaning yet. But when Reina said those words, he'd seen it—her gaze, which had been fixed on Tokyo Tower, shifted toward him for exactly one second. It wasn't calculation or observation. Something else had seeped through. Once he thought that, somehow... He found himself wanting to stay a little longer. It was strange. No skill. No past-life memories. Sales rep for a stationery company. A 67,000-yen apartment in Tsukishima. No connection to this party whatsoever. And yet he wanted to stay just a bit longer. Then the MC's announcement echoed through the venue. "Now we begin Round Two: Pair Talk Sessions. We will announce pairings based on the shuffleboard results. Please move to your assigned partner's seat and enjoy fifteen minutes of conversation." The atmosphere in the room shifted completely. Participants scattered around the bar counter and windows suddenly looked up. With expressions saying "finally, the real thing," they all stood at once. Some checked their name tags, some straightened their sleeves, some fixed their hair—everyone radiating quiet determination, as if to say "this is what we're really here for." Only Tatsuki Takuma stood up half a beat late, pressing his stomach. (Pair talk. Speaking. Me. With reincarnated people.) Cellophane tape. The memory of his self-introduction flashed back. Through the PA system, he'd declared: "I'm confident in cellophane tape inventory management." The absolute zero silence that followed. Not a single person laughed. Not a single person reacted. (Can I really do this?) The MC began reading names. Participants started moving. That's when the collapse began. First, a man in his fifties with "Absolute Sword Technique Lv.MAX" on his name tag—the same guy who'd split a wine bottle in half earlier—read his partner's name from the shuffleboard. "Um... Kurosawa?" "Oh, that's me!" The man glided smoothly to the seat and pulled out the chair with perfect form. The flawless body control of Absolute Sword Technique Lv.MAX. It was smooth and beautiful, like something from a movie. Then another female participant approached saying, "Oh, isn't that my seat?" and the man turned with an "Huh?" and released the chair. The chair—flew backward at high speed. CRASH!!!! "Ugh!" The chair hit the knee of a participant who was about to sit down. "I-I'm so sorry! The Absolute Sword Technique! Body control—!" "Why does overprecision make the chair fly?!" "When I get nervous it sometimes goes the opposite direction!!" (It's not "sometimes." That's the second time today.) Tatsuki Takuma silently added that in his head. Next, a man in his thirties with "Spatial Leap Lv.MAX" tried to teleport to the "seat next to" his assigned partner. He vanished with a *shuu*. Everyone looked impressed. He appeared in an empty space. "...Huh?" He vanished and appeared in another empty space. "...Huh, huh?" He vanished again. "Huh, huh, huh?" A three-stage misteleportation was complete. He finally materialized on top of the bar counter, taking three bar stools down with him in a cascade. CRASH CRASH CRASH CRASH!!!! "My sincerest apologies... the tension of the pair talk has disrupted my spatial awareness..." And the finale came from a woman with "Sage Magic Lv.MAX" on her name tag. Apparently trying to relax her nervous partner, she'd attempted to heat his coffee to the perfect temperature. She'd over-focused. The coffee in the cup began boiling. The lid shot toward the ceiling. WHOOOOSH!!! *Thunk.* A black stain was born on the white ceiling. Boom, bang, whoosh. Three sounds in rapid succession, and Tatsuki Takuma watched the sequence quietly. (... This is kind of like our morning meeting at work.) The morning meeting at Tobioshima Stationery was basically like this too. The copier jams, the presenter forgets their materials, Takiyama spills water—three consecutive minor disasters were standard, and everyone just kind of handled them and work started normally. That sense of déjà vu somehow eased Tatsuki Takuma's tension. Strangely, he actually felt calmer. ★ Tatsuki Takuma's assigned partner was a woman in her forties with "Past Life: Top of Magic Academy / Current: Editor-in-Chief at Major Publishing House" written on her name tag. Her name was Mikuriya. When Mikuriya confirmed "No Skill Participant" on Tatsuki Takuma's name tag, she sat down with a subtle—but definite—air of composure. Looking down from the higher seat. Probably unintentional, but it came across. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Mikuriya. In my past life, I graduated top of my magic academy, and I've been applying those skills in editorial work in the modern era." It was a perfect self-introduction. Flowing, seamless. The content was clearly structured—past-life skill to modern application, a beautiful presentation arc. (Wow. She's practiced this.) Tatsuki Takuma was honest about that. There was a civilization gap between her introduction and his cellophane tape one. "Ah, I'm Tatsuki. I work in sales at a stationery company..." "I'm aware. From your name tag." Soft, but definitely cut short. Mikuriya continued. About her past-life research into magical circle theory, how that logical structure was effective in modern editorial information design. Her words were orderly, the content genuinely interesting. Tatsuki Takuma nodded along. Then something caught his attention. "...So," he said without thinking much. "Your deadline management and operational precision basically became your skill, right?" Mikuriya's hand stopped. "...Huh?" "You're focusing on that?" "Yeah, I mean... listening to you talk about the magical circles, the element placement, the priority structure—it reminds me of an editorial schedule." "...That's... true. It really is." Mikuriya leaned forward slightly. "Can I ask you something? Isn't it exhausting reading tons of manuscripts every time, with completely different genre contexts?" Mikuriya's mouth fell open. "That's exactly it!!! It's completely different depending on the author! Mystery writers and romantic comedy writers have totally different styles, so I have to completely recalibrate my reading approach every single time!!! Do you understand that recalibration cost?!!" "I get it. It's like how corporate and individual clients are completely different." "Exactly! Precisely! Completely different!!! Every single time from zero!!!!" Mikuriya was completely leaning in now. Her voice had jumped three levels. That "air of composure" from before had vanished somewhere. Mikuriya came back to herself. She froze for a moment, her eyes wavering. Like she couldn't understand why she was showing her true self right now. Right then, the 15-minute bell rang. Mikuriya stood up and started to leave Tatsuki Takuma's seat—then stopped. She spoke quietly. "...What skill did you use?" "I don't have a skill. Check the name tag." Mikuriya stared at his name tag intently. "...That's impossible." After a moment, she muttered with a bewildered expression. "Being a good listener... that's not a skill...?" Mikuriya left looking completely confused. Tatsuki Takuma watched her back for a moment. (I don't think it's a skill. I was just being normal.) But as he thought back on Mikuriya's face—from that initial composure to the final "recalibration cost!!!!"—his mouth gradually curved into a smile without him realizing it. ★ In the distance, he heard Reina's voice as she made her rounds through the venue. "Everything is proceeding as planned." "Everything is proceeding as planned↗" "Everything is proceeding as planned↗↗" Tatsuki Takuma turned to look. The table with the coffee stain on the ceiling. The site of the spatial leap disaster. The area where the chair had flown. Reina was making her rounds, distributing "Everything is proceeding as planned." And this time too, Tatsuki Takuma noticed. The rising inflection of "Everything is proceeding as planned" was proportional to her level of agitation. Coffee ceiling stain: "Everything is proceeding as planned↗". Chair impact incident: "Everything is proceeding as planned↗↗". The disaster of three-stage misteleportation: "Everything is proceeding as planned↗↗↗". No skill. No past-life memories. Just watching people normally, and he'd noticed. (I can't just leave this alone.) He couldn't explain why he thought that. But he did. That's when Tatsuki Takuma noticed Reina's left hand, which had been watching his exchange with Mikuriya from a distance. Her index finger wasn't tapping. The 0.2-second tap that always accompanied "Everything is proceeding as planned." It wasn't there. (... Why?) He didn't have an answer. But something caught in his chest. ★ "We will now proceed to the second set of pair shuffles," the MC announced shortly after. "Due to an odd number of participants, we will be bringing in a backup participant from the organizing committee." Quiet murmuring. Tatsuki Takuma received his new pairing card and opened it. "Reina (Vestige Representative, Backup Participant)" (Huh?) Tatsuki Takuma looked up just as a silver-haired woman approached, checking her card. Her ice-blue eyes confirmed Tatsuki Takuma's card, then his face. "It's a matter of scheduling." Reina started to sit. She pulled out the chair. Her hand movement caught the edge of the tablecloth just slightly. The vase tilted slowly. Tatsuki Takuma's hand shot out without hesitation. *Click.* The vase's base settled into his palm. Reina, still sitting, looked at his hand and the vase. "...Thank you." It was conversation. Pure gratitude, not calculation. Reina herself seemed slightly surprised by it. "I'm getting used to it." "Used to what?" "The vase tilt patterns. I've memorized them." Reina went silent for 0.3 seconds. "...Patterns?" That was all she said, then quiet returned. Tatsuki Takuma didn't know what passed through her in that silence. But Reina's face seemed—just slightly different from her usual "unreadable" expression. Like she was searching for something, or something had reached her. The 15-minute hourglass began. "Can I ask you something?" "Go ahead." "Why do you hold this party every year?" Reina answered immediately. "Because it's necessary." She didn't say more. She didn't open up what "necessary" meant. Tatsuki Takuma waited a bit longer, but nothing came. "Why am I here?" "That's... something I can't answer yet." "Yet," she said. Not "can't answer," but "can't answer yet." That single word caught on something. And in that moment alone, her index finger didn't tap the table. The tap that always accompanied "Everything is proceeding as planned." Reina's tell when she was "dodging the truth." It wasn't there. (She told the truth.) Tatsuki Takuma quietly filed that fact away in his chest. Fifteen minutes passed. Reina stood up. As she did, her foot caught the edge of the tablecloth. The vase tilted slowly again. This time no one stopped it. Tatsuki Takuma was a moment too late. *Clink.* The vase tipped over, water spilling onto Reina's wrist. Reina opened her mouth. "Everything is proceeding as—" "I don't think so." The sound in the venue seemed to disappear right there. Tatsuki Takuma immediately thought *oh no.* He'd pushed back for the first time. He'd never directly said "that's not right" to "Everything is proceeding as planned" before. Reina looked at him. Silence. Three seconds. "...You're right." Small, but definite. Reina said it. Tatsuki Takuma was a little surprised. She'd admitted it. "Everything is proceeding as planned" wasn't the an