Ke Xue: I picked up a bottle of sherry at the beginning.

Ryoko stuck out her tongue at Meila. Meila, lost in her reverie, finally woke up and changed her expression. Of course, it wasn't one of reformation.

The doctor you trusted has already confessed almost everything. Your past is exposed. What else do you want, old woman?

I don't care. Since humanity is doomed, I'm going to enter the underground palace of Idaho and create my own world. No one can stop me.

Dark Lobster Man

Since becoming Yakushiji Ryoko's subordinate, Shiraizumi Mashi has had many strange experiences, encountering terrifying and disgusting monsters and fighting against evil villains. However, no monster can compare to the abomination of Mellarotridge, and no villain can compare to the despicable and shameless Dr. Mosha.

You two, you pretend to be Earthlings on the outside, but your hearts are as dark as the lobster people who live in the Black Nebula. No matter how hard I beat up scum like you, my conscience won't feel the slightest bit of remorse!

Ryoko announced that this time her opponent will be a lobster man again. Who knows where this comes from?

It hadn't been that long, but this verbal battle in the wilderness showed no sign of ending. Whatever Mayra thought, Dr. Mosa was clearly stalling for time until the helicopter arrived. Ryoko, far more intelligent than I, couldn't fail to see through his intentions. However, Ryoko, gradually perspiring in the Karuizawa heat, continued the verbal battle.

What world are you talking about? It's just the narrow world of Christianity, isn't it? Judaism and Islam can also be considered; simply put, they're all monotheistic worlds. The only true God belongs to us. Your so-called gods are false. Your beliefs in these dogmas have led you to slaughter each other, which is your freedom and has nothing to do with the polytheistic world. Don't casually drag Buddhism, Taoism, Hinduism, or Shintoism into this. Although Japan is a hopeless nation, only trying to curry favor with the world's number one superpower to maintain its second-place position, eight million gods can coexist peacefully, a far more righteous path than you, the rest of us.

It was a truly brilliant speech. It was unimaginable that the person who uttered it was the same dangerous individual who, day in and day out, was desperately trying to widen the scope of his crackdown, hoping for unrest. But, as they say, one should not dismiss words based on their authorship. Before Ryoko could even give the order, I was already applauding enthusiastically.

This filthy world will be destroyed. All those without value will perish, leaving only 144,000 outstanding, beautiful, and destined young people. I will become queen, reigning supreme over all, and create a clean new world, the only world under God!

Meera held out her hands, palms up, in a gesture typical of zealots who cared nothing for human life.

Hmm. How big is the kingdom you're planning to build in Idaho?

Half a million acres.

An acre is approximately 447 square meters. Five hundred thousand acres equals 2,023 square kilometers, almost the size of Tokyo—an incredibly vast expanse of land in Japan. I was speechless with astonishment, but Ryoko showed no sign of admiration.

How many square kilometers?

Square kilometers?

I asked you to convert it into metric system.

What is the metric system?

Because it was so unexpected, Meila was unnecessarily confused. Ryoko laughed loudly and said:

Wow, this is unbearable. It's the 21st century and the US is still the only country that doesn't use the metric system. So backward! The US is such a backward country.

I don't know if it's the only one, but it's true that the United States hasn't adopted the metric system even in the 21st century. Weight is measured in pounds, length in inches and feet, distance in yards and miles, and even temperature is expressed in Fahrenheit rather than Celsius. Americans stubbornly reject the universal metric system, clinging to a system of measurement unique to their country.

If a small country in Asia or Africa were so paranoid, the Japanese would surely sneer. But if it were the United States, the Japanese would actually be somewhat envious. When American novels are translated into Japanese, they often lack unit annotations like inches and acres, meaning readers are left to look them up.

Hey, you barbarians who don't even understand the metric system! You fools! You thought you could land on the moon? That must be a fake video!

There are many ways to provoke the enemy, but this is the first time I've heard of such a low-level one. Besides, if such a provocation can work and lead to a decisive war between Japan and the United States, wouldn't it be too embarrassing?

You're talking nonsense, little girl! When I catch you, I'll definitely give you a lesson. You didn't even use anesthesia during the brain transplant surgery!

The sound of gunfire continued intermittently, followed by wailing and roaring, and the barking of dogs.

The Routledge family's private soldiers and support troops were stopped by two maids and a thousand dogs, and seemed to have suffered a great blow.

At Mela's shout, both sides drew their pistols. Some ducked, others leaped aside. Dr. Mosha, hiding behind Mela, also crouched.

In the final moments before the clash erupted, a heavy, rigid voice echoed from between the enemy and our own. Countless eyes turned in the direction of the voice, witnessing the incredible scene with their own eyes.

The coffin lid moved.

When I realized that, the most intense chill I'd ever felt ran up my spine. Heather Willingham's horrified expression and Artemisia's words, as she had relayed them, resurfaced in Shiroizumi's mind.

Kacang.

That was the first sound. A series of short, harsh, "click, click, click" noises followed. Anyone, even one with nerves as strong as inorganic matter, would become frozen as if bound by invisible chains. Even Ryoko frowned, speechless. Finally, I spoke to Dr. Mosha:

What's in that coffin?

The black-clad bodyguards didn't glare at me for my questioning, but it was obvious that they all wanted to know.

What? Of course, the coffin contains a corpse. However, it's not always dead.

Dr. Mosha sneered viciously:

You've been putting me down a lot, little girl. You're calling me a charlatan who lacks basic medical knowledge and skills? Well said. Don't forget what you said.

Dr. Mosha's figure gradually became blurred, and the temperature became lower and lower.

This was not caused by any supernatural power or witchcraft. The same thick fog as the night before appeared again in the daytime today, and this time the fog came unusually quickly.

The dogs' barking was shrill and high-pitched, further deepening the ominous atmosphere around them, as if they had already sensed the horror that was about to happen.

Close the coffin lid!

Melanie Rottridge screamed in disgust.At the same time, I saw a black, carbonized human hand stretched out from the gap in the coffin lid, and five fingers grabbed the edge of the coffin.

The bodyguards, their guns drawn and ready, sprang into action. But the chaotic situation showed that even their well-trained professionalism was wavering; their movements were slow and their steps chaotic. The thick fog, moving much faster than them, had already enveloped the surrounding area, silently bleaching the world white.

Karuizawa in the fog has a somewhat romantic feel.

Ryoko muttered to herself, but I could no longer see her face clearly. A torrent of milky gas formed, engulfing friend and foe alike.

The bandages on my head, my suit, and my shirt immediately succumbed to the moisture, becoming damp and heavy. The Beretta in my hand dripped with water. In a matter of seconds, the conditions made it impossible to fire easily. My superior must be close by. Just as I was about to ask for advice on the best course of action, a resounding boom erupted from the swirling fog.

I heard Ryoko's voice:

The coffin lid dropped to the ground.

What are you doing? Cover it up. You idiots!

Meera scolded.

Screams tore through the veil of fog, and the continuous gunshots overlapped with the screams.

I instinctively ducked to avoid the gunfire, but it didn't seem like the target was Ryoko or me. The echo of the gunshot was accompanied by painful groans.

what do you?!

The sound of something falling on the grass.

The other party didn't ask who you were, but what you said. This word confirmed my fear. I realized that my breathing was rapid and shallow, and I took another deep breath.

I knelt on the wet grass, steadying myself as I searched for my superior, not daring to speak too loudly.

Police inspector?

I'm here.

There was no sound of enemy gunfire. Instead, I heard the clatter of machinery overhead.

That was the sound of a helicopter breaking wind.

The helicopter approached us from above, but I couldn't tell the angle of its approach. Not only was it difficult to tell east, west, south, north, front, back, left, and right.

Mist and clouds are the same thing. Those that float in the sky are called clouds, and those that fall to the ground are called fog. Regardless of the name, it's all just a cold mass of water vapor. I took five or six steps, as if wandering in the rain, until I finally reached my boss.

It must be difficult for a helicopter to land in such thick fog.

Well, so far it’s not beyond my expectation.

Ryoko's words gave me a new understanding of her tactical abilities.

When the heat and oppression of Karuizawa reached their peak, either heavy fog or thunderstorms would descend. Ryoko had anticipated this sudden change in weather, so she had been arguing with Mela and Dr. Mosa, biding her time.

The black-clad bodyguards, the Routledge family's personal army, numbered a dozen. We were only four people: Ryoko, two maids, and myself. We had to make up for our lack of numbers with other resources. Ryoko could have unleashed a tank, but she didn't do it. Perhaps she anticipated the favorable timing.

How long will this fog last?

Maybe they won’t disperse until midnight.

Is this the case for the entire Karuizawa area?

As for Karuizawa, well, about half of it is affected. The southwest is more affected because the terrain is low and the houses are concentrated.

I lifted my watch to my eye and examined it. It wasn't even one in the afternoon. It was clearly midday, but the white darkness obscured my vision, limiting my visibility to about two meters. The fog occasionally shifted with the wind, only slightly expanding my field of vision for a moment. Streams of white gas pressed in from all directions, trapping us in a maze of fog.

From the other side of the thick white wall, gunshots rang out continuously, followed by screams and strange, unidentified noises. It was clear that a continuous tragedy was unfolding. We had no idea when whatever emerged from the coffin would attack us. Even though our bodies felt like they were soaking in water, our mouths were dry.

The guy who ran out of the coffin was very good at making use of the fog.

Do you think it's just exploitation?

what?

I couldn't grasp what Ryoko meant by this.

Don't you understand? That person doesn't want to be seen. So he hides in the fog!

Ryoko's tone was very excited, and she glared at the other side of the fog with the same intense gaze.

So, that black, alien object has the same consciousness as humans?

In a sense, this is the deepest fear I have ever experienced. Those who lived like that, no, those who survived, were ashamed of their appearance.

Too cruel.

Gunshots and screams once again pierced the white fog.

Do you want revenge? Revenge on your mother and Dr. Mosha?

She didn't even mention who she was talking to.

After dying once, I finally have some courage.

Ryoko replied to herself with harsh words, but in a tone I had never heard before.

Could I shoot Artemisia? More precisely, could I shoot the being that used to be Artemisia? If she suddenly attacked me from behind, I'd probably fire back reflexively.

At the same time as I was confused, uncontrollable anger surged in my heart. How could I not be angry when those selfish people turned this poor woman, Artemisia, into a monster?

To her mother, Mera, Artemisia was a failure. The mere sight of her daughter's face brought back memories of her past with inferior men, forcing her to erect a protective shield of self-deception. To Mera, the epitome of perfect womanhood, Artemisia was merely superfluous.

Mera might have thought about killing Artemisia.

Was it Dr. Mosha who stopped her?

Correct.

Of course, he couldn't convince Mela on humanitarian grounds, saying that when Mela was old, her brain could be transplanted into a young body.

That's right. Of course, he couldn't perform that kind of surgery. For Dr. Mosa, this would have two benefits. First, it would be a favor to Artemisia: I saved your life. Can you think of another benefit?

That was Dr. Mosa's way of protecting himself. While Artemisia's body was necessary for the brain transplant, it also meant that only Dr. Mosa could perform it.

Bingo!

After a brief reply, Ryoko muttered something incomprehensible: "Why can't this idiot man be more alert at more important moments?" (Translator's note: The original sentence is in katakana, indicating that Izumi didn't understand it at all and took it as a curse. Ahem)

We were able to hide in the thick fog and utter the above words in a hurry because the man who came out of the coffin did not attack us. Why didn't he attack us?

The helicopter's whirring sound of wind ripped through our heads, darting left and right. With the fog so thick, it couldn't even land, let alone lower itself. If it hit a tree or power line, it would instantly lose its balance and stall. In the ravine, the airflow reacted to the terrain, making it incredibly complex.

If this were a military operation conducted by special forces, they would likely force a landing, no matter the risk. However, the charter plane was a civilian aircraft, lacking both the technology and the sense of responsibility. Hoping the fog would clear, the helicopter simply circled overhead.

Judging from the number of screams, the enemy's number should be less than half.

The beautiful Ryoko, while making a terrifying calculation, smiled sharply and shook off the water droplets on the Browning gun.

Ryoko's beautiful feet

Ten steps away from Qin Xuan's left, a loud roar came from across a wall of fog.

Experience told me it was a human cry. However, with the strange echoes in the fog, Qin Xuan couldn't tell what the round object rolling toward him was. It wasn't until I parted the thick fog that I could look down at the object at my feet.

That was the leader of the Nakamiya group, Nakamiya Takashi, or to be more precise, just the part of Nakamiya from the neck up. I'd seen that face many times in police archive photos: eyes set too far apart, eyebrows so pale they were practically nonexistent. This face, strangely like a deep-sea fish, was twisted in terror and agony.

Qin Xuan himself nearly screamed in shock, but managed to hold it back. He swallowed, coughed, and was about to report to his superiors when he looked up into the fog, only to discover with horror that Ryoko wasn't there. He was suddenly alone in a white maze, and with the enemy nearby, he couldn't make a sound.

Nakamiya profited from illegal loan sharking. Women who couldn't pay back were sold into the sex industry, and men were forced to commit suicide to pay off their debts with insurance proceeds or to sell their organs. Nakamiya, this guy, enriched himself from the filthiest corners of this country.

According to Kasai Keigo's confession, the Nakagami and Betsugu had been colluding with the Arcadia Group for ten years, dividing up the profits from the looting. After Kasai's alliance with the UFA Japanese corporation, their dark web of influence further expanded.

I knelt on one knee and examined the Empress's head. I really didn't want to touch it; the wound didn't look like it had been cut with a knife.

I didn't have a chance to investigate in detail, but since the leader of the Nakagami Group came to Karuizawa in person, the highest-ranking officials of the Beppu Group are probably here as well.

As he watched, a burst of gunfire rang out in Qin Xuan's direction, and he quickly ducked even lower. The sound didn't sound like a proper gun; it was probably one of those cheap, modified pistols often used by gang members.

Then, a chaotic cacophony of screams and cries followed. "Monster! Help! Run!"—all spoken in Japanese. Qin Xuan cautiously approached the direction of the shouting. After only a few steps, a bizarre scene unfolded before him.

Beppuku Clan leader Gunshiro Beppuku was sprawled on the mist-soaked grass, face up. I'd seen his face in photos before, wearing black-rimmed glasses, and at first glance, he looked quite gentlemanly.

Ah, help me, help!

The lower half of the palace was shrouded in a thick fog. There seemed to be something in the fog.

Bie Gong, still bulging with belly, was getting further and further away from me. He was being dragged away, the thing hidden in the fog pulling at his lower body. Bie Gong rubbed against the damp grass, causing it to fly. He stretched out his hands desperately.