Chapter Fifteen: An Unexpected Misfortune Strikes

Panting, Tang Ze straightened up and wiped the blood from his cheek, letting out a hiss.

The horribly screaming giant spider scattered into a pile of blades, while Maru Denjiro, disheveled and with his hair undone from the fight, lay on the ground wailing for mercy.

“Step aside, you tasteless scum,” Tang Ze said, nudging the collapsing figure aside with his toe and heading into the house behind him.

“Don’t, don’t take it away!” Maru Denjiro’s shadow clung to Tang Ze’s ankle, sobbing desperately, “You can take anything you want—treasures, gold—but don’t take it—”

Tang Ze crouched down, smiling as he tapped Maru Denjiro’s cheek with a short knife smeared in black mud. “That face—you’re in pain. Do you feel the weight of the sins you’ve inflicted on others? Keep crying, louder this time.”

With that, he kicked away Maru Denjiro’s hand and strode into the main room amid his cries.

Inside stood a finely crafted wooden cupboard. Tang Ze’s expression flickered with a strange familiarity.

If he guessed right, this was the very cabinet from the manga where Maru Denjiro carved death messages...

A kind of mutual pursuit, then. How poetic.

Reaching up, Tang Ze took down an object radiating a treasure-like glow from atop the cupboard.

It was a folding fan with gold paper, the handle adorned with exquisite mother-of-pearl inlay, and on the fan’s surface, a gleaming golden character “Maru.”

Flipping it over revealed a painting of a warrior swinging his sword to strike down a demon.

“How intriguing,” Tang Ze murmured, studying the artwork with a bittersweet feeling difficult to express.

A collector who prized demons slain by the sword had himself transformed into a demon. Without Tang Ze’s intervention, he too would have been slain by the warrior’s blade.

Sheathing the fan, Tang Ze pressed its delicate edge against Maru Denjiro’s brow.

“Remember the agony of having your treasure stolen,” he said, looking at the tear-streaked face, his lips curling in disdain. “Repent well for your deeds, Mr. Maru.”

The aged Maru Denjiro stared blankly at the fan in Tang Ze’s hand, sighed, knelt up, and bowed his head.

The shadow dissolved into a ray of light and dispersed. Tang Ze tucked the fan into his back waistband, planted his feet, and sprinted away, narrowly avoiding the collapsing doors and windows behind him.

The hall’s owner had lost his twisted desires, and the hall itself was crumbling.

“I took some damage... wonder if healing skills would help,” Tang Ze muttered to himself as he raced against the falling debris. “One mask isn’t enough protection. After all, I’m fighting alone. Who knows if I’ll have allies in the future...”

He had to keep trying.

Tang Ze escaped the Maru residence in a heart-pounding dash, telling himself he needed at least a mode of transportation in the cognitive world.

“You look cool when you fight, but your running is really pathetic!”

———

Having swiftly wrapped up a heart-stealing adventure, Tang Ze returned to Boro Café before lunchtime.

Through his experiments, he confirmed that healing skills could restore physical condition, but only while inside the cognitive world. If he left without fully healing, he would have to carry the injuries with him.

Even if he reentered the cognitive world later to heal, the wounds could not be instantly erased.

Fortunately, most of his injuries were internal; only a small cut on his face was visible, unlikely to attract suspicion.

He buttoned his undershirt all the way up to conceal the bruises on his chest before pushing open the café door.

Upon entering, he saw Toru Amuro washing dishes with a somber expression. Though his face showed little emotion, the sharp, grating sound of the plates being wiped was charged with palpable tension.

“Mr. Amuro?” Tang Ze whispered, “That plate’s already clean.”

Amuro snapped out of his trance, inspecting the gleaming plate in his hands with a “tsk,” then hung it on the rack.

“Bad mood? Something happened?” Tang Ze took a seat at the bar.

If this were a manga, there’d probably be a cluster of lines behind Amuro’s head, dark energy billowing out.

Amuro answered with a question: “Where did you go this morning?”

Tang Ze chuckled nervously. “Haha, just went out for a stroll. Why ask?”

What’s going on? Surely no one got caught after trying to steal hearts?

“Have you run into any trouble these past two days?” Amuro’s gaze was piercing, scanning Tang Ze like an X-ray. “Have you encountered any strange people on the road?”

Trouble? Would Suwa Yuji, who nearly attacked him, count? Or the gang of delinquents hired to distribute those photocopied cards?

Uncertain whether Amuro had spotted some inconsistency or had another motive, Tang Ze held his tongue.

Suddenly, Amuro’s eyes snapped wide open as he stepped forward and pinched Tang Ze’s cheek.

“Ow, ow, ow—” The still-healing scratch stung sharply, and Tang Ze quickly pulled away.

Amuro, furious that trouble had arisen under his watch, demanded, “How did you get that wound? Were you followed?”

Tang Ze blinked, guessing why Amuro was upset, and replied vaguely, “Just a normal scratch... Nothing serious...”

Amuro didn’t buy it and grabbed the tightly buttoned collar of Tang Ze’s shirt. “Stop lying. Your collar wasn’t buttoned this high when you left this morning.”

Tang Ze bore many bruises from the giant spider’s attack. Samurai swords hurt—a single blow could drain 25 health points—leaving a long purple bruise stretching from his chest to his collarbone, nearly blackening.

When Amuro pulled the collar, the bruise was exposed.

“Attacked?” Amuro crossed his arms, wearing an expression that clearly said, “Keep making up stories.”

“Not exactly...” Tang Ze straightened his collar and realized, “You weren’t on duty when I left this morning. How did you know my collar wasn’t buttoned?”

“I got here just after you left and saw someone sneaking behind you, definitely not a good guy. I followed to see what they were up to,” Amuro said without hesitation, reversing the timeline to frame his tailing as concern for a minor. “Turns out you deliberately shook them off.”

Tang Ze blinked.

Huh? Someone was following me? And I managed to lose them?

Could it be that Amuro was tailing me, and someone else was tailing me too, and when I slipped into the cognitive world, the two followers collided?

Having guessed most of the truth, Tang Ze breathed a slight sigh of relief.

So it’s not the Heart-Thief Phantom Thieves? Good.

Following Amuro’s lead, Tang Ze began to explain: “Yeah, someone’s been following me for two or three days, maybe ever since I arrived in Tokyo. I don’t know whose side they’re on.”

Putting on a serious face, Tang Ze decisively shifted the blame outward.

At this point, whether it’s high-level retaliation, surveillance by organizations, or other forces making a move, it all makes sense.

Sorry whoever’s following me, but if this minor got hurt, that’s on you!