Upright police officers don't tend to live long.
Ren couldn't help but mutter this to himself.
Sato Miwako—the Metropolitan Police Department's well-known heroine in more ways than one.
She was a deeply principled policewoman, though her emotions ran high whenever she faced the murderer of her late father.
But that was understandable.
Revenge was a natural human instinct.
The more righteous a police officer was, the more likely they were to act impulsively.
Because the more they understood the depth of darkness, the more powerless they felt when trying to combat it.
They saw how integrity alone wasn't enough.
The higher they climbed within the system, the more they had to navigate the greasy poles of politics.
And once their hands became slick with that grease, many simply stopped resisting.
Sato Miwako's father had met the same fate, an unappreciated, forgotten officer.
And unfortunately, her own career trajectory seemed eerily similar.
She wasn't suited for desk work.
Her future would likely mirror her father's: a frontline inspector, never promoted beyond a certain point.
Ren wouldn't say these things out loud, of course.
A person's nature couldn't be changed with a few passing comments.
Sometimes, silence was the best approach.
"Officer Sato, I won't take up any more of your time. I'll let you get back to work."
"...Ah, wait a second."
Just as he was about to leave, Sato Miwako called out to him.
She dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out a business card.
"If you come across anything again, give me a call."
"I work with Inspector Megure, so if it involves Tokyo, I'll handle it."
Ren took the card and examined it.
Her name, department, and work number were printed neatly on the front.
A private cellphone number was written on the back.
"Officer Sato, you're surprisingly similar to Inspector Megure."
"Your way of handling things, it feels very familiar."
"Anyway, if I find anything suspicious, I'll let you know."
"But fair warning, I might end up calling you a lot."
"But if you want my help... I need one promise from you."
Sato Miwako tilted her head slightly.
"I want a life that isn't constantly interrupted by cops asking me for help."
"If you can guarantee that, I'll contact you whenever I discover something important."
The straightforwardness of the request surprised her.
But she smiled and nodded.
"Of course. I promise, no one will disturb you."
Her words were genuine, without a trace of official pretense.
It was in moments like these that her righteous nature shone through.
"Then if I stumble upon anything strange, I'll reach out."
"But you'll need to keep my name off the reports."
He extended his hand toward her.
Sato Miwako paused for a second, then shook it firmly.
After that brief handshake, they released each other's hands and parted ways.
As Ren walked away, Sato Miwako couldn't help but feel that this high school boy was anything but ordinary.
"Now that I think about it... the club he's in is mostly made up of elite young ladies."
She tapped her chin thoughtfully.
"Mr. Mouri's daughter and that Suzuki girl are childhood friends, sure..."
"A random boy with no visible background... in a club with some of the wealthiest and most influential high schoolers in Tokyo?"
The more she thought about it, the more suspicious it seemed.
"And Ms. Suzuki seems pretty fond of him..."
Her intuition as a detective kicked in.
Something doesn't add up.
Ren returned to the living room where everyone was gathered.
Upon entering, all eyes immediately shifted to him.
"The situation is stable."
"The police have captured the mastermind, and they're sweeping the back mountain for the remaining drug dealers."
"Even if the drug dealers have illegal weapons, the police are better trained and equipped."
"The outcome won't change."
He retrieved his tarot deck from Sefirah Castle and began shuffling the cards.
After a moment, he drew three cards:
The meanings were clear:
An inevitable ending awaited the drug dealers.
The situation would resolve in the police's favor.
Everything was proceeding as fate intended.
The drug dealers' defeat was a foregone conclusion.
"I'm sorry, everyone."
"I didn't expect something to happen during our first club activity."
Before anyone could respond, Fujiwara shot up from her seat, her eyes sparkling.
"Did you remember all of this?!"
Amamiya blinked, taken aback.
"Yeah! This entire story!"
He thought about it for a moment.
"Well... I do remember it pretty clearly."
"So you didn't remember it before?"
"Ren shook his head. "No. Not until now."
Fujiwara clapped her hands together excitedly.
"Wait—so this story is different from what you knew?"
"The story has... changed."
"But honestly, it feels more realistic now."
Fujiwara's curiosity piqued.
"What was the original story?"
Ren leaned back slightly and thought.
"The story I know went : the village chief of Tsukikage Island partnered with some drug traffickers."
"They used a middleman to handle the transactions."
"But eventually, that middleman grew a conscience and wanted out."
"But... he knew too much."
"So the village chief killed him?"
"Yeah. They burned down his house with him and his wife and children inside."
"But... one child survived."
"The kid was sick and had been sent away for treatment."
"So now that kid is back for revenge, right?"
Fujiwara stomped her foot playfully.
"This is classic revenge-story material!"
"That's just how these plots always go!"
"But wait... what happened to that surviving child?"
He focused his spiritual energy, forming an image in the air.
A ghostly, holographic figure appeared, depicting a mature woman with a calm but cold expression.
Fujiwara's eyes widened.
"Wow... she's beautiful."
Her mind replayed Amamiya's exact words:
"The protagonist is 'he'... but the image is of a 'woman'?"
She pointed at the floating image, her mouth falling open.
"Wait... you said he was the one seeking revenge."
"But... that's a woman!"
Her voice rose with disbelief.
"Is that boy actually a... girl?!"
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