Confession Mission. The moment that rule was announced, Tanaka Shouta felt something rare—a flicker of optimism. Skill usage prohibited. Only raw words. Convey your feelings to someone you're interested in. If they nod, it's a success. That's all. (If it's like this... maybe I actually have a shot.) The chandelier light reflected off the round table, making the venue look softer than usual. Tanaka traced the crescent-shaped particles of light absently, scanning the room. He searched for silver hair. I could at least talk to Mizuki Ayane. I should be able to do that much. "[cold]So you're a con artist, huh." The voice came from directly beside him. Mori—the participant with black sunglasses, wielding telekinesis—passed by Tanaka's side without stopping, turning only cold eyes in his direction. Not a single pause in his stride. He spoke while walking, adjusted his sunglasses, and left. "...Huh?" By the time Tanaka turned around, Mori's back was already distant. Kotone passed in front of him. Her golden-tinted eyes slid across Tanaka's face for just an instant—and moved on. "[cold]I no longer need precognition regarding you." That was all. She looked away. Kurokawa's business card, floating in midair, slipped smoothly into a pocket. Before Tanaka could say anything. Just five minutes. The entire atmosphere of the venue had changed. (What... why? We were talking normally just a moment ago.) Confused, Tanaka's gaze alone searched the room for the cause. Then—as a sight only the reader could see, a memory from moments before inserted itself. Three participants had gathered near the wall. Ren stood in the middle, making eye contact with each of them. Three seconds. Exactly three seconds each. His lips moved. "Tanaka Shouta is an ordinary con artist who infiltrated using a hidden skill. He's here to sabotage the game." Complete hypnosis—a mental interference ability that activates on eye contact lasting three seconds or more, forcing one command on a single target—had been successfully deployed, one after another. Tanaka couldn't see that scene. Only one fact remained: everyone in the venue was avoiding his gaze. --- At least Ayane, he thought. Tanaka circled around the drink counter, searching for her. There. By the wall. Her silver hair glowed white under the lighting. But already standing beside her—was Ren. Navy jacket. Black hair with a few red streaks. A small scar on his right cheek. A smile carved at the perfect angle, perfectly gentle. Ren's lips were speaking something to Ayane in a calm voice. Fragments reached Tanaka's ears. "[gentle]...Mizuki-san, about Tanaka-san. His name tag still shows his skill section as 'under analysis,' right? I heard that's actually because there was an error in the returnee information he submitted to the organizers." Ayane listened, expressionless. The ring on her fingertip rotated slightly. "[gentle]I understand the desire to believe. But—I can't bear to watch you get hurt." Not hypnosis. Just words. But words sometimes cut deeper than hypnosis. Ayane's expression dimmed, just slightly. A subtle shift before the furrow between her brows deepened. That expression that appears when a memory of betrayal is triggered—Tanaka understood its meaning. He understood, but he was too far away to reach her. Tanaka took a step forward. "[serious]Um... Mizuki-san, could we talk for a moment?" Ayane started to turn toward him. For an instant, their eyes met Ren's. Ayane's gaze fell to the floor. "[cold]...Sorry, not right now." She turned her back. Tanaka stopped. (She's not hypnotized. She's avoiding me. Did I... do something?) He tried to analyze it. But logic lost to the weight of emotion. The calculation in his head stopped midway—he rarely had experiences like this. Ren smiled at Tanaka from beside Ayane. Only his eyes were cold. "[sarcastic]Too bad." Tanaka couldn't find words to return. --- The round continued. To avoid disqualification, he had to talk to someone. He knew. He knew, but. He approached Kotone. "[cold]No need for precognition to say this. You won't succeed with anyone tonight. That's all." Conversation over. It ended before Tanaka could open his mouth. He went to Mori. "[cold]I won't make eye contact, but I don't need to to know I can't trust you." Said through the sunglasses. Even through the sunglasses, it came through clearly. He walked toward Kurokawa. Tried to offer a business card. "[cold]That's a bit..." The floating business card was drawn back into a pocket. By telekinesis. Tanaka silently watched his own card get retrieved by telekinesis. He retreated to the drink bar corner. Pressed the cola button. The sound of carbonation seemed oddly loud. He took the cup and stepped back. Everyone stepped back. (... I see. The label of 'con artist' pushes people away more than having no skill at all.) It was almost funny. Almost, but not quite. The cola wouldn't go down his throat. A little distance away, Kotone stood alone, her brow furrowed. "...Wait. That false information... it's not catching in my precognition. Something... feels contradictory." A whisper that didn't become sound. Kotone couldn't trust her own precognition anymore, and she couldn't tell anyone. --- Tanaka quietly pushed open the door to the 14th-floor emergency stairwell. The cold of concrete spread beneath his feet. The pale blue light of emergency lamps. Tokyo's night view stretching far below—the Marunouchi building cluster looked like a sea of light. Tanaka sat down on the landing. The wall was cool against his back. Body heat escaping. The sensation felt oddly fitting for who he was right now. A memory came. Elda Vestia—the other world where returnees had been reborn—the place where he first awoke. The white place called Farnese Tower. Among the returnees around him using skills, laughing together, bonding instantly, he alone— (If this is another world, securing food and a safe base should be the priority...) He'd said it out loud. Then they'd pulled away. The night monsters surrounded their companions. Amid screams, Tanaka was calculating. Survival probability. Retreat timing. "Retreat is the optimal solution in the current situation," he'd said aloud, and everyone went silent. After returning. In an apartment in Komae City. While building Excel functions. (The average returnee's readjustment period is two years. I'm just a little delayed.) He'd kept thinking that for five years. "...In the end, I'm alone no matter where I am." The words spilled out. Quieter than expected. He noticed the tears floating in his eyes only a moment later. The door opened. Tanaka didn't turn around. Didn't want to. But he knew from the voice. "[cold]Hey, Shouta. I think you've got no reason to be here anymore. You should go home." Black hair parted 7-3. Calm brown eyes. A gentle smile floating in the emergency light. Tanaka stood up. "[angry]You brought me here." His voice came out. Louder than expected. "[angry]You made me pay fifty thousand yen and used me as a test subject—why the hell are you telling me to go home now?!" His voice shook. Tears fell. No time to wipe them. Yuusuke's expression didn't change. "[cold]I gave you a chance. That you couldn't make use of it is your problem." He turned on his heel. Headed for the door. "[angry]Wait!!" No answer. The door closed. Metal sound echoed once in the stairwell—then faded. Tanaka was alone. Only the night view remained. A sea of light. Building glow. Black sky. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand. --- As the tears dried, something strange began to happen. Tanaka's mind—started moving on its own. (Should I go home... but if I calculate the train fare and the fifty thousand yen loss together, today's total is...) Calculating. In a situation like this. Before the tears even dried, already running cost calculations. Tanaka gave a bitter smile. It didn't become sound. But the corner of his mouth moved slightly. (Logic comes out even at times like this. That's who I am.) Then. Deep in his brain, something activated like noise—logical optimization. The perception analysis skill Tanaka possessed unconsciously. An ability that analyzed microexpressions, breathing patterns, voice frequency changes in 0.01-second units, quietly processing outside his awareness. The exchange with Yuusuke from moments before replayed in his head. You have no reason to be here anymore. Go home. That's what Yuusuke said. But— (Yuusuke didn't touch my shoulder.) Tanaka's thoughts stopped there. Memory alteration—Yuusuke's skill. The ability to rewrite specific memories of a target. Activation condition: physical contact. A handshake, a shoulder tap, that level of touch was enough to activate it. Yuusuke had tapped his shoulder before. "Cheer up." He'd definitely touched him then. But tonight, Yuusuke hadn't touched Tanaka. Not once. If Yuusuke truly meant to cut him loose—he could have rewritten the memory in this very moment, changed it to "go home," and erased even the will to resist. That's what Yuusuke could do. Yet. He hadn't. (Why?) Furthermore. Just before Yuusuke turned on his heel—for just an instant, he'd looked back. In the pale blue emergency light, Yuusuke's eyes were—red. 0.03 seconds of footage replayed in Tanaka's mind. (...Was he crying? Him?) A question slowly took shape. He said there was no point, yet why didn't he erase the memory? Logically, it didn't add up. Which meant—Yuusuke still expected something from Tanaka. The reason he didn't erase the memory was that he hadn't given up on Tanaka finding something on his own. If this reasoning was correct. Then nothing was over yet. Tanaka gripped the stairwell railing. The cold metal sensation spread across his palm. "...Maybe today was the first time I used my own logic on myself." The whisper dissolved into the night view. In his tear-dried eyes, Tokyo's light reflected. Marunouchi buildings. A distant tower. Light tracing the edge of the black sky. A faint light—existed. Tanaka pushed his glasses up with a finger. An unconscious habit when shifting his mood. Beyond the door, the venue's sounds were faintly audible. The game was still going. Whether Ayane would keep believing Ren's words—still unknown. But—Ayane wasn't hypnotized. She was only shaken by words. If words had shaken her, words could take her back. And Yuusuke's contradiction. Two clues. He had them.