Hyakki felt like a deranged, broken doll as he endured the backlash in his arms. Besides Ranpo, who was busy massaging his temples, everyone else felt uneasy listening to Osamu’s words.

Ranpo muttered, “This is getting troublesome.”

As expected, Osamu suddenly turned his head and looked coldly at everyone. He felt particularly guilty when his gaze met Akiko’s, unable to bear looking at the blood-covered Hyakki.

“Now, we can discuss compensation,” he said.

“What… do you want?” Akiko asked.

“A list of renowned healers with therapeutic abilities, both within Japan and abroad.”

If this doctor couldn’t provide it, Dazai would find another. There would always be someone with the ability to ward off curses. Dazai Osamu had never placed such faith in the inherent power of humanity before.

Therapeutic abilities.

It was the miraculous power of altering fate that humanity possessed.

 “No Longer Human” couldn’t save Hyakki, and the harbor mafia lacked relevant ability users. However, with “No Longer Human” as a condition and his intellect serving as a bridge to ascend, not only would the Armed Detective Agency and the harbor mafia be interested, but even government agencies might be intrigued.

Ranpo suddenly spoke up, “Do you want to join the Special Ability Division?”

Dazai returned his gaze with a detached look, not entirely bright but clearer than darkness.

The two were similar.

They possessed wisdom to see through people’s hearts and understand the world.

Fortunately, before they spiraled into extremism, Ranpo met Fukuzawa, guiding him onto the path of aiding others, while Dazai, lost in confusion, encountered the destitute Hyakki, another lonely soul.

Dazai, still not fully matured outwardly, didn’t directly respond to Ranpo, as if tired of verbal exchanges. He fitted Hyakki with prosthetics, a process that was silent and painless for Hyakki. After his feet touched the ground again and his hands returned to his shoulders, Hyakki tried to touch his eyes with his hands, still unable to feel the existence of his eyeballs.

Random touches only made the holes bleed.

Closest to the brain, unseen inside, eerily penetrating. Everything beautiful that a human should possess, he lacked, and the colors of his memories faded away.

Sooner or later, he would completely forget the vivid world of the past.

Dazai grabbed Hyakki’s hands, forcibly moving them aside, and said to Akiko, “Take him to my medical room. I’ll attend to his wounds to prevent infection.”

She gritted her teeth and agreed.

“I’ll help with the domestic part of the list you want.”

Obviously, only such words could make Dazai agree. He glanced at her, nodded, and together they escorted Hyakki to the medical room, where they proceeded to bandage the bleeding skin surface.

Not long after, Dazai received the “compensation” from the Armed Detective Agency. Fukuzawa met him alone, and inside the president’s office, Edogawa Ranpo no longer appeared fearless. He covered his head, bearing a look of grievance and resentment as he shrank into a corner of the chair.

Dazai thought to himself: **[Serves him right.]**

Ranpo looked back sharply, as if he could read minds.

Then, he deflated.

Whoever was weaker was in the right. The Armed Detective Agency hadn’t saved Hyakki but had instead caused further harm. This was something that even a regular hospital couldn’t justify. He himself felt uncomfortable about it.

How did they happen to encounter powers beyond the norm?

“Dazai, the Armed Detective Agency sincerely apologizes for what happened to Hyakki. We will take responsibility accordingly. Please understand, our intention was solely to help him, and none of us wanted to see this outcome.” Fukuzawa began with an apology, showing no intention of evasion. “The entire Armed Detective Agency will do everything possible to assist you in contacting medical personnel!”

“Just give me the information about them,” Dazai insisted, still preferring information over the help of the Armed Detective Agency.

Ranpo whispered, “Don’t be ungrateful. This is a promise from the president himself. With your status, you can’t reach those people.”

“Ranpo!” Fukuzawa’s cold gaze swept over.

The famous detective fell silent, thinking: Such level of information is beyond what the Armed Detective Agency can afford.

Fukuzawa’s bottom line was the safety and well-being of the nation and its people. Akiko had already promised the domestic list, but the list of ability users abroad was beyond the current capabilities of the Armed Detective Agency.

Fukuzawa, who was not rigid, explained his dilemma clearly: “Information regarding foreign ability users is highly classified, and the Armed Detective Agency has not been focused on foreign ability users. The only institution likely to have detailed information would be a subordinate organization of the Ministry of Home Affairs, the Special Ability Division.”

Dazai was waiting for this. “I want you to recommend someone from the Special Ability Division on my behalf.”

Fukuzawa pondered. “I can do that. I have some connections with Chief Taneda.”

Ranpo could only watch helplessly as a promising candidate for the Armed Detective Agency flew towards the bald head of the Special Ability Division. This was the ultimate anti-ability force, capable of neutralizing all abilities!

With the cards shuffled, neither the Armed Detective Agency nor the harbor mafia could be Dazai’s preferred camp anymore.

Ranpo fell into silence.

After Dazai left, Fukuzawa approached Ranpo, concerned about the cleverness that had been misinterpreted. “Ranpo, you shouldn’t have said those things just now.”

Ranpo bluntly replied, “I don’t want them to get involved with the Special Ability Division.”

Fukuzawa asked, “Why do you have such thoughts?”

Ranpo lowered his head. His pride prevented him from lying. “President… the harbor mafia also wants to get Dazai Osamu and has invested a lot of resources. I wanted to help the Armed Detective Agency fight for it. After all, good and evil don’t mean much to that guy.”

Fukuzawa chuckled, feeling a heaviness in his heart.

Short of manpower.

The “Three-Quarter Plan” had not been completed. Natsume-sensei hoped for daytime control by the government police, evening control by the Armed Detective Agency, and nighttime control by the harbor mafia, creating a balanced situation of power. However, the Armed Detective Agency was still not strong enough to match the other two factions in Yokohama.

“Just the thought of becoming a hunting dog feels terrible…” Ranpo muttered, expressing some hesitation towards military uniforms. “I can’t imagine that guy wearing a military uniform. It’s chilling. He probably wouldn’t care much about justice; what he’d enjoy most is killing.”

Fukuzawa couldn’t quite follow his train of thought, jumping from the Special Ability Division to the military police?

However, over the years, he had developed a method to deal with Ranpo.

That method was—

The president solemnly said, “With such intentions, you deserve my commendation.”

Ranpo froze, then jumped up in instant surprise.

“President!”

He was about to rush over, but he saw the white-haired middle-aged man with the triple roles of president, partner, and mentor turn away, ignoring his excitement, and dial the fixed-line phone of the Special Ability Division at the table. “Good day, is this Chief Taneda? This is Fukuzawa. I would like to recommend someone to you…”

Ranpo felt dejected, deeply feeling the downside of having a mentor who was too responsible.

Look at him, he also needs attention!

…

In Akiko’s medical room, there were no spare clothes, so Dazai put on a gender-neutral white coat to cover the blood that might scare passersby.

Ignoring Akiko’s persuasion, he left the Armed Detective Agency with Hyakki as soon as Fukuzawa’s recommendation was arranged. He had no interest in righteousness or goodwill.

With the contact information of the Special Ability Division in hand, Dazai walked with Hyakki down the secluded road back to the hotel. The white coat looked a bit awkward on him, hanging down to his knees, but with his good looks, he could pull off anything.

As he contemplated how to converse with the influential figures of the Special Ability Division, Dazai smiled at the black-clad Hyakki. “The last profession I ever imagined myself in was a doctor. Someone like me couldn’t possibly save others, but wearing this white coat seems rather amusing…”

Using a surgical knife meant for killing to save lives, or using a surgical knife meant for saving lives to kill.

The only difference between the two is who taught him.

Dazai walked slowly, mindful of Hyakki’s physical condition. Fortunately, Hyakki hadn’t suffered serious consequences from the failed treatment; his walk was normal, and the mask covered his skinned face.

Noticing a drop of blood seeping from the edge of the mask, Dazai reached out to wipe it away.

“You’re not completely healed yet.”

He shouldn’t have trusted that quack, Mori. Few words from him were true; to get anything, one had to pay a corresponding price, with no after-sales service.

“I never expected you to be on the brink of death all this time. Without so many organs, how could a normal person live to your age? Infections and complications could have killed you, but it’s the power within you that has kept you alive and also robbed you of the possibility of regaining your organs.”

Hyakki, a person Dazai saw as struggling against death.

But for Hyakki himself, this description neither brought him joy nor freed him from the edge of life and death. He lived only to return to this world.

**[Can’t let Dororo worry.]**

Hyakki hadn’t fully recovered to his usual state, but manipulating his limbs and walking like a normal person wasn’t difficult. He wanted to hide his vulnerability.

Dazai chuckled softly. “I can’t understand your desire to keep living.”

Passing by a poorly frequented convenience store, Dazai hurried over and bought a pack of candy. He then shoved a mint candy into Hyakki’s teeth under the mask. “When I was a child, the servants at home told me not to eat too much candy because it would ruin my teeth. But you don’t need to worry about that.”

“In this way… without a tongue, your stomach can still feel the sensation of sugar, right?”

Hyakki couldn’t know what he was eating, but with each candy fed to him by the other, a bit of strength emerged in his zombie-like body. That was the taste of being alive.

Seemingly surreal, yet connecting him to this world.

Beside him, Dazai sipped on a straw, drinking fresh milk from the day. The two of them ate the simplest breakfast on the road. “I won’t keep getting shorter than you forever…”

A calico cat sat perched on a high wall, its beastly eyes shining brightly in the sunlight.

It thought to itself: **[Failure.]**

Three days later.

Dazai discarded the tattered clothes that Hyakki didn’t like to change and dressed him in a loose summer yukata. Even the sandals were swapped for wooden clogs. Ironically, it was the inspiration given by the president of the Armed Detective Agency. Who said he couldn’t fight in clothes like this? Dazai believed in Hyakki’s balance.

The yukata with a black base and fireworks pattern was infinitely better than patched-up clothes. However, Hyakki was slightly uncomfortable, occasionally tugging at the sleeves. Dazai also knew that someone who could sew clothes for Hyakki must be a close to him, so he arranged for a laundry service to wash and return them cleanly. Normally, he would be firm and make Hyakki get used to modern attire, rather than looking like he belonged in ancient times.