After a day’s “date,” night arrived.

Hyakki had overcome his fear of crowds for his “Dororo,” as if holding hands had given him infinite courage, coaxing the solitary beast into the public eye. To adjust Hyakki’s mental state, Dazai accompanied him throughout, strolling aimlessly, showing him those ordinary yet happy places.

Dazai was slightly infected by the peaceful atmosphere of the hometown of the Saiki, no longer making remarks about how boring it was here.

People are different from each other.

Some are destined to settle down, start families, and build careers, while others never even consider such things. This small town is a microcosm of ordinary life, occasionally nurturing a few extraordinary individuals who choose not to disrupt others’ rhythms but see it as a haven for their souls.

“Hyakki, I still prefer Yokohama,” Dazai said to Hyakki on the bus, while Hyakki was absorbed in looking at the scenery outside the window.

[“Ancient modes of transport… so fast, leaving traces of light.”]

“But Hyakki, you’re different, aren’t you?”

[“The prosperity of humanity…”]

“Hyakki likes ordinary and kind people; they give him a sense of security.”

[“Dororo, are we going home now?”]

Hyakki snapped out of his thoughts, noticing the increasing intensity of human flames around him.

Unlike many nowadays who are absorbed in their phones, Dazai fiddled with Hyakki’s fingers, a play that never grew old. “I wonder how the world appears in your mind, Hyakki. Do people float like ghosts, or do they emit different lights?”

Noticing Hyakki focusing “looking” at him, the fourteen-year-old Dazai suddenly felt uneasy.

Dazai murmured softly, “Do I look dirty right now?”

Is it all ugly, sinful colors…

As the bus descended into an underground tunnel, Dazai momentarily found himself in darkness, touching a world where Hyakki couldn’t see anything, only the warmth of the prosthetic hand in his grasp.

He could deceive others with the front of his skin, but in darkness, the soul became the most important sign.

“…”

Dazai’s expression darkened.

Should he seek out a low-level member of the harbor mafia to learn how to cleanse his soul completely?

When he looked at Hyakki again, Dazai returned to his usual smile.

“We’ll be home soon, maybe in time for dinner.”

[“Why does Dororo’s flame of life flicker dim and bright alternately? Is the red light flowing outside the hazy flame?”]

Hyakki didn’t understand but chose to accept it.

Even the slightest change, as long as it develops in a positive direction…

The black-haired youth reached out to touch Dazai’s face, and Dazai, not evading lazily, even teasingly nibbled on one of his fingers. He wondered: Could Hyakki discern his actions?

Hyakki: [??!!]

Hyakki: [Life flame… in close contact?!]

Rounding it off, “Dororo” held onto his finger, was he flirting with him?

Arriving at Yokohama Station, Dazai pulled the absent-minded Hyakki off the bus. To avoid security checks, he chose hours-long drives just because this person would always look back for him after parting ways. That fear of losing his own self made him understand the psychological shadow left from last time; to eliminate the regret of losing that could never be recovered, trust must be rebuilt.

Upon reaching bustling Yokohama, a port city thriving with modern urban restlessness and liveliness, it all rushed toward them.

Unconsciously, Hyakki began to search for something.

The closer they got, the more that lurking feeling of evil didn’t seem like a misconception.

Dazai was about to hail a taxi to return early to Mr. Mori’s clinic for dinner but was tugged by Hyakki’s hand. He looked along the direction he pointed: “That’s Yokohama Park, where we’ve been before.”

It was where they were last seen by the Armed Detective Agency.

Seeing a captivating red light, Hyakki took a deep breath, excited. Through actions, he tried hard to convey his inner plea: [Dororo, let’s go check it out.]

Dazai compromised with his slight pulling.

“Alright.”

Grilled meat or Western cuisine for dinner?

Dazai began to ponder which restaurant to dine out at and which of Mr. Mori’s cards to use, while Hyakki energetically dragged him forward, with a clear goal, ignoring the traffic lights on the road, a scary red light in the darkness like a GPS positioning.

Amid the screeching brakes of vehicles and the curious glances of passersby, Hyakki dragged Daizai into the park.

In the park’s plaza, a mobile crepe van had formed a line.

Young men and women were here on dates, sampling sweets. A white-haired youth with a purple inverted crown tattoo on his face indulged happily, ordering every flavor available. He wasn’t just tasting; he was a genuine sweet tooth, earning “adorable” remarks from many Japanese girls. His slender violet eyes narrowed with delight as he enjoyed the crepe filled with ice cream.

Earlier that afternoon, Bai Lan arrived in Japan and took a bus from the airport to a famous park in Yokohama, delayed by over half an hour on the way. He left his luggage at a booked five-star hotel without adjusting to the time difference, carrying only his phone and wallet, eagerly heading straight for Yokohama Park.

They say the crepes here are exceptionally delicious!

Ah, the ice cream is so refreshing with each bite! The pancakes are wonderfully warm!

“No wonder it’s Jinghua’s favorite crepe, it tastes like first love~,” Bai Lan mused, uttering words unintelligible to others. “Miss Jinghua must be only six years old now, still a lovely little girl… Should I go and pick her up? Too bad her spy parents are not to be messed with.”

As he accidentally got ice cream on his fingers, Bai Lan licked them clean, his demeanor innocent yet flirtatious…