Chapter 106: Your Daughter Isn’t Human
“I’m back.”
That evening, Chihaya Masato returned home. In the living room, he saw Kamihara Shinji on the sofa, his daughter clinging to the boy’s arm, her expression radiant with affection. Masato blinked, stunned. Was this his shy, socially anxious daughter, who struggled to connect with others?
His gaze shifted to Kamihara Shinji. For a fleeting moment, he thought he glimpsed disgust in the boy’s eyes toward Mashiro. But in an instant, Kamihara stood, offering a warm yet slightly nervous smile. “Hello, Uncle. I’m Kamihara Shinji, Mashiro’s boyfriend.”
“Dad, you’re home!” Mashiro released Kamihara’s arm, taking her father’s bag to set it aside.
A trick of the eye, perhaps. Still, the scene left Masato bewildered. Mashiro’s boyfriend? She’d only transferred schools two weeks ago—how had she found a boyfriend so quickly? Glancing at Kamihara’s striking face, he sighed inwardly. Even his daughter couldn’t resist looks. Curse this superficial world.
“Dear, you’re back!” Rinako emerged from the kitchen with dishes. Kamihara leapt up to help, earning a pleased smile from her. She leaned toward her husband, whispering, “You’ve been working all day—go wash up; you’re a mess. Don’t embarrass Mashiro in front of Shinji.”
Masato felt his family status plummet. With a helpless chuckle, he agreed and headed to the bathroom.
Soon, Kamihara and the Chihaya family sat around the dinner table, chatting amiably. When Masato began to ask about Kamihara’s family, Rinako’s soft cough stopped him. The couple’s unspoken understanding prompted him to pivot to another topic. The more they talked, the more impressed Masato and Rinako became. Unlike other fathers, Masato felt no rage at his daughter being “stolen.” Like Rinako, he’d always hoped Mashiro would make friends at school. A boyfriend was a friend, too. Kamihara’s honeyed words, laced with charm, delighted them, his humor and attentiveness ensuring no one felt left out. Masato marveled—such a boy would thrive in any workplace.
Unbeknownst to them, Kamihara’s thoughts were far darker. Observing Masato with his spiritual power, he confirmed the man was an ordinary human, just like Rinako. He sighed inwardly. The real Chihaya Mashiro was dead, yet her parents lived on, oblivious.
As Rinako cleared dishes in the kitchen, Masato smiled at the young couple on the sofa. “Can you tell me how you met at school? I’m curious.”
Mashiro opened her mouth. “It was at—”
“Mashiro, go to your room,” Kamihara interrupted. “I need to talk to your dad.”
As his “girlfriend,” Mashiro obeyed unquestioningly. Masato frowned. Shinji’s tone was presumptuous—commanding his daughter in their home, in front of him, the head of the household. They were just dating, not married. A flicker of displeasure crossed Masato’s eyes, but his composure held. He watched Mashiro retreat to her room without protest.
Then he noticed Kamihara’s demeanor shift. The boy’s earlier warmth gave way to a grave expression. An ominous premonition gripped Masato. “Uncle, call Auntie. We need to talk outside.”
“What’s happened?” Masato’s breath quickened, his gaze hardening as a suspicion formed.
“Let’s go outside,” Kamihara said, offering no explanation.
After a moment, Masato nodded silently, fetching Rinako from the kitchen. Still confused, she followed. Outside, Kamihara closed the door to apartment 8003 and spoke bluntly. “Your daughter isn’t human.”
“What?” Masato staggered, barely steadying himself.
Rinako, not yet grasping the gravity, bristled. “Shinji, what are you saying?” But seeing her husband’s distress, panic crept in. Both knew of Mashiro’s magical Fate Coin, which consumed her memories with each use. They’d urged her to avoid it, but knew she used it secretly. Sometimes, Rinako hid the coin, too afraid to discard it, yet Mashiro always found it. Resigned, they trusted her implicitly, even moving and transferring schools at her behest. Now, Kamihara claimed she wasn’t human?
Masato steadied his emotions, his face stern. “What proof do you have?”
“I have proof,” Kamihara nodded calmly. Had he not needed Mashiro’s help today, he might not have noticed. The anomaly’s mimicry was impeccable—her personality, micro-expressions, and movements were flawless. Yet its flaw was glaring: when he assigned Mashiro a new “role,” like girlfriend, she seamlessly adapted, conversing as if it were true. If wild anomalies had emotions or intellect, this one could wreak global havoc.
Explaining briefly to the skeptical couple, Kamihara reopened the door and called Mashiro’s phone. She appeared at the entrance, her expression puzzled as she noted her family’s tension. “What’s wrong?”
Her lifelike demeanor shook Masato and Rinako. How could she not be human? Yet Kamihara’s words lingered. Masato spoke first, suppressing his turmoil with a forced smile. “Mashiro, I’m your uncle. Is your dad home? I need to talk to him.”
“He’s not home,” Mashiro replied naturally, glancing at Rinako. “Uncle, isn’t Mom right there? Didn’t you ask her?”
Despite his preparation, Rinako’s tears broke free. Smiling through sobs, she said, “I’m your aunt.”
“Auntie, you’re here too?” Mashiro responded. “Looking for my parents?”
“Yeah… they’re not home. Should we come in and wait?”
Throughout, Mashiro’s demeanor remained normal, as if in casual conversation. But this “normalcy” was profoundly unnatural. A chilling dread gripped Masato and Rinako. Their daughter’s familiar face grew alien, her refined features twisting into something grotesque in their eyes. No matter what role they assumed, she engaged effortlessly, her ease unnerving, scalp-prickling.
The couple struggled to breathe. Kamihara, observing, addressed the anomaly posing as Mashiro. “Mashiro, go back to your room. I need to talk to your uncle and aunt.”
“Okay,” she replied, her shy glance at her “uncle and aunt” tinged with coyness. Resolving herself, she approached Kamihara, whispering softly in his ear.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter 107: Caught You~
As the door closed again, disgust flashed in Kamihara Shinji’s eyes. A wild anomaly daring to act human? Wanting to sleep with him? It wasn’t worthy.
He turned to Masato and Rinako. Masato, braced for the truth, held himself together, though his eyes betrayed complex grief. Rinako, overwhelmed, hadn’t stopped crying since the revelation.
“Go downstairs and get far from this apartment,” Kamihara ordered, sparing no comforting words. Time for action, not platitudes. “I don’t know how this anomaly’s killing rule works. If anything strange happens, call me.” He handed Masato a business card.
Masato took it silently. Despite his anguish, as the family’s head, he steadied himself, urging Rinako downstairs. She resisted, shaking off his hand and clutching Kamihara’s shirt, her voice pleading. “Shinji, please… please save my daughter. I beg you…”
Ordinarily eloquent, Rinako could muster only desperate pleas. Kamihara remained silent. Empty reassurances were pointless. The real Mashiro was likely dead—how else could the anomaly sustain such a prolonged masquerade? If she were alive, she’d have called or messaged by now.
“Rinako!” Masato snapped, seeing her dazed stare. His voice firm, he said, “Let’s go. Don’t disturb Shinji.”
“Yes, yes, we can’t disturb Shinji,” Rinako stammered, forcing a tear-streaked smile. “Maybe Mashiro’s just possessed, her consciousness still there… If Shinji stops that… that fake thing, she’ll come back.”
As Masato led a reluctant Rinako, glancing back every few steps, into the elevator, Kamihara gazed at the night sky, darkness fully settled. Without hesitation, he reentered the apartment.
In the living room, the anomaly posing as Mashiro sat on the sofa. Seeing him, her doll-like face flushed crimson. Without glasses and with her braid undone, she was stunning, her beauty universally captivating. Her milky skin glowed tenderly, her thighs plump yet graceful—legs worthy of the name, unlike others’ mere “transport tools.” But this Mashiro was an anomaly, and the real one, however beautiful, was dead.
“Shinji…” she murmured shyly. With her “parents” absent, the air thickened with a rosy intimacy.
Kamihara frowned, studying her. As Aoji had said, facing an unknown anomaly leveled even seasoned monitors to novices. Beyond caution and sharpness, only trial-and-error—often fatal—revealed a rule. Assistants bore the brunt; if they died, monitors stepped in, explaining their high mortality. The Special Division’s recent push to recruit sacrificial officers aimed to bolster trial-and-error teams, preserving high-stage monitors, whose numbers dwindled despite resource investment.
Kamihara, both monitor and assistant, had multiple lives but was stumped. He didn’t know this anomaly’s rule, only that it hijacked human bodies for mimicry. Pondering its purpose was futile—rules killed without meaning. How to test it?
He retrieved the doll Mashiro had given him, examining it closely. The longer he stared, the more it seemed alive, its lifelike craftsmanship eerie. He’d once thought it was the anomaly, but now dismissed that. Time for a direct approach.
Pocketing the doll, he fixed his gaze on Mashiro. Since embedding Small Eye’s power at the third stage, he’d used it sparingly. Against ghosts and grudges, it was devastating, annihilating them with a glance. But against anomalies, it was feeble, nearly useless against wild ones. His embedded power was a weakened 1.0 version, far from Small Eye’s true rule—more a supernatural ability than a rule’s edge. This was why, despite hundreds of thousands of good-evil points, he’d hesitated to boost his spiritual power further. The third stage sufficed for sensing anomalies; why waste points?
Yet, unable to resist, he’d raised his spiritual power to the fourth stage, curious for changes. Beyond adding another rule-embedding slot and expanding his spiritual pressure, his eyes had strengthened. An indescribable sensation clarified: his eyes were undergoing rule completion, inching toward Small Eye’s power. Though still not a true rule, the progress thrilled him. At the fifth, sixth, or seventh stages—or higher—could he master Small Eye’s rule? With each stage adding embedding slots, he might wield multiple rules in a human body—a tangible goal, not a fantasy.
Suppressing his excitement, he focused on the anomaly. Activating his eyes’ power had no effect on Mashiro. Undeterred, he noted her misty, enamored gaze and spoke coldly. “Who are you really?”
“I’m Mashiro,” she replied, feigning confusion.
Done with games, Kamihara approached, seizing her collar and gripping her delicate neck. If you want to play human, show me death. His gaze was icy.
But the scene that followed shook him. Mashiro’s face turned an unnatural purplish-red, her hands weakly clawing at his arms, head shaking in pain. Her eyes, filled with betrayal, questioned why her “boyfriend” would do this. Her convincing struggle toward asphyxiation nearly fooled him. But recalling her immunity to his Small Eye power and prior inconsistencies, he tightened his grip.
As Mashiro “died,” she chirped, “Caught you~”
(End of Chapter)
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