Pure yet ambiguous, exuding a strong hormone-filled aura, truly deserving of a romantic Italian.

“Wait until she becomes an orphan and inherits her mother’s extraordinary abilities,” he said, referring to events expected to unfold within the next decade.

Barring any unexpected turns, there would soon be a pitiful orphan girl named Izumi Kyoka standing here. Both her parents would be deceased, and she herself would have been manipulated by the Yokohama Mafia into becoming an assassin. Subsequently, she would quietly watch others, awaiting the conclusion of her fate—being handed over to the police and executed by firing squad. Unexpectedly, Nakajima Atsushi, a kind-hearted newcomer from the Armed Detective Agency who apprehended her, would buy her a crepe. This small gesture would mark the beginning of her affection for the boy who saved her.

Yes, this is the taste of first love.

Bail Lan tasted the unique flavor intertwined with the emotions and destinies of others.

In countless parallel timelines, there existed countless Bail Lan. Originating from the same source, after gaining the ability to share memories across parallel timelines, they inevitably developed a superior mindset.

In theory, that’s how it was…

However, in reality, Bail Lan suddenly felt a sharp murderous intent locking onto him, causing him to startle. He remembered that he was still an innocent Italian youth, not some deity intending to turn the entire world into a playground.

Wait a moment, he had no enemies in Yokohama!

He nibbled on the crepe part of the crepe, staring blankly ahead at the source of the chill.

One, two youths?

A black-haired youth exuding murderous intent held hands with another youth, his expression cold, his pupils lifeless, his skin unnaturally pale, resembling a Japanese puppet injected with a living soul straight out of a horror film.

Bai Lan recognized their identities, raising the dessert with a hesitant look in his purple eyes.

“Would you like… some crepe?”

What’s with all the fighting? Is it because the dessert isn’t tasty, or Italians aren’t friendly enough?

[Human? Evil thing?? Demon???]

Hyakki had never seen a life flame this red before, completely devoid of any other color, saturated with blood-red. In that fleeting moment he witnessed firsthand, he seemed to even smell the nonexistent scent of blood, an aura that swept through, echoing the cries of countless souls.

If this is human, could anyone be so depraved?

If this is a monster, why hasn’t there been a demon slayer to kill it?

Finally.

If this was one of the twelve demon gods, responsible for the suffering of all living beings in the world, then let the water of the Sanzu River, filled with the souls of resentful humans, cleanse their sins and ensure they never reincarnate!

Hyakki’s hand immediately let go of Dazai, and his skin and limbs reverted to their original appearance.

“Dororo…”

Without needing the reminder, Dazai Osamu took two steps back.

The park square was spacious enough, and passers-by, instinctively sensing danger, began to drift away from the area.

Because many young people who liked to browse forums had recognized Hyakki’s identity.

“The ghost boy who kills monsters and demons.”

“Look!”

“It’s him. This is the first time I’ve seen him in a crowded place.”

“What is he going to do…?”

“There must be a bad guy. I remember he specializes in beating up bad guys. A detective said that he can distinguish between good and evil and see through the light and darkness of people’s hearts. Those who are beaten by him are not good people.”

“Wow, is he the ghost boy protecting Yokohama?”

“He looks so handsome.”

“That Italian looks decent, but he must be a bad guy at heart…”

Unknowingly, Hyakki was no longer an unknown figure. His actions of fighting unseen evils and beating up bad guys had spread from one person to ten, and from ten to a hundred. In less than half a year, he had become a new urban legend in Yokohama.

Hyakki no longer used a rough method to remove his arm. Instead, he chose to bite the bandage tied by “Dororo” and used it to pull his arm apart. With this pull, the embedded samurai sword was unsheathed, displaying the most primitive indomitable spirit of humanity and the strong fighting will to tear apart the facade of peace.

At that moment, he resembled the character picture that the Time Travel Division showed to all the interns fourteen years ago—even though he was physically disabled, the young man with a sword on the battlefield to defeat the demon god shocked everyone.

Who was that? Was it the protagonist in the anime “Dororo”?

No.

It was the human instinct to survive that never gives up.

Seeing the person he intended to save trying to kill him, Bai Lan thought, “… The crepes have lost their sweetness!”

Dazai Osamu was initially shocked, as he had only seen Hyakki treat Nakahara this harshly. Then, it dawned on him, and he murmured, “Is this how Hyakki is saved?”

Of course, such actions would result in a beating.

He quickly took out his phone and called Nakahara: “Hey, shorty, there’s someone here just like you!”

Nakahara: “???”

Can you even be trusted anymore?

Dazai insisted, “I’m not lying. Hyakki looks like he’s about to kill someone!”

“I’ll be there in five minutes,” Nakahara replied firmly. Using his gravity ability to lessen his own gravity, he propelled himself into the air, rushing forward like a dark red cannonball.

Five minutes later, Nakahara arrived to see crepes scattered on the ground and Bai Lan, nearly in tears with his head in his hands, being beaten by Hyakki and pleading for mercy: “I haven’t done anything wrong! Hyakki, you’re mistaken! I haven’t killed anyone, I’m just taking the blame for others!”

“Help! Someone is attacking a foreign friend here in the street. Yokohama is dangerous! And you’re all just watching!”

“I’m really here to save you! Aaah!”