The vote on the third version of the New Gastrea Law had begun.

But barely anyone paid attention.

Most people in the Tokyo Area were still immersed in the euphoria of having survived a great disaster.

When the Monolith collapsed—

The Tokyo Area was plunged into chaos.

So now, anyone still alive naturally had reason to celebrate.

The truth was, few cared who had actually protected them in the Monolith Defense Battle. Or rather—before proper marketing could establish a hero aligned with the public's expectations, no one really cared about such things.

Meanwhile, in a quiet corner of the city, inside a familiar office—

"Yo, isn't this Rentaro Satomi?"

Haruto patted Rentaro Satomi on his right arm.

At the moment, Rentaro had fully recovered from his prior injuries.

His right arm had been reattached.

Come to think of it, that top-tier doctor from the New Human Creation Project seemed to have taken a liking to him. Otherwise, how could she have so casually given him such a ridiculously expensive prosthetic?

Well, what else could you expect from the protagonist?

Right now, though, Rentaro was completely stunned.

After getting discharged from the hospital, he'd just wanted to come by the office—

To revisit old places and old memories. But the one who was supposed to run off with the person he cared about…

Was still right here, greeting him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Utterly baffling.

What Rentaro didn't know was that the cursed children who fought in the Monolith Defense Battle had been led by Haruto.

This information had been deliberately suppressed by the Tokyo Area's upper echelons—

To prevent Haruto's reputation from spreading, which might attract followers, and risk destabilizing the existing power structure.

Heh.

The decision to suppress that info had even been made while the Monolith had just collapsed, with the city still hanging on the edge of annihilation.

Truly, such "foresight"...

"Mr. Haruto… weren't you supposed to leave with Kisara?"

Rentaro asked, puzzled.

Haruto shrugged.

"Rentaro, of course that was a joke. You really thought I'd suddenly leave the Tokyo Area? Seriously—why do you always believe whatever people say? You're too gullible, that's how you get scammed."

Rentaro's mouth twitched.

Is this really something a deceiver should be saying?

Still, he quickly recovered.

If Haruto was still here—

That meant...

He peeked into the office.

But no matter how long he searched, he couldn't find the figure he longed to see.

Even the bedroom in the back of the office had its door open—And she wasn't there either.

The place was completely empty.

Haruto was the only one inside.

Rentaro pulled his head back in confusion.

"Um… Mr. Haruto, where's Kisara?"

He couldn't understand it.

Why wasn't Kisara Tendo here?

Haruto shrugged again.

"I'm telling you, stop believing everything people say. That'll get you in trouble."

Rentaro's expression began to twist.

Was this really something a human being could say with a straight face? Why hadn't he noticed before that Mr. Haruto had such a wicked sense of humor?

"So… Kisara…"

Before he could finish—

Haruto answered with another shrug.

"Miss Kisara left the Tokyo Area. I came back alone."

Rentaro felt the world go dark.

Joy and despair had come too fast and too close together.

He couldn't keep up.

"Did… did she leave me any message or anything?"

He asked, unwilling to give up.

Haruto shook his head.

And he wasn't lying.

It had been Kisara's own decision to leave without saying goodbye—

Her aim was to part ways with Rentaro silently.

It sounded cruel.

But it was in line with how Kisara had always lived.

She was a vengeful soul walking in darkness. Rentaro, meanwhile, was not someone who could truly follow that path.

They were never meant to walk the same road—just two intersecting lines, destined to separate again.

Kisara had realized—

Rentaro was a deeply conflicted person.

He didn't stand in the light, but he didn't embrace the dark either. In the end, the idea of "not dragging Rentaro into the shadows" became a kind of joke.

Still, after all their years together—

The most merciful option was to disappear without a word.

Rentaro stared at Haruto, full of doubt.

But this time, Haruto had no more twists or jokes left.

Realizing this was the truth, Rentaro couldn't quite accept it.

He didn't understand—

Why Kisara would leave him without a single word.

Even though she had dropped hints countless times before—

Even though she'd subtly tried to push him away—

Maybe he'd noticed it before…

But because of his own inner contradictions, he chose to ignore it all.

"Well, now that I've greeted you, I've got other business."

With that, Haruto shut the office door right in his face.

Bang—

The wind slapped across Rentaro's face.

He wasn't even sure how he made it down the stairs. His mind was a mess by the time he stepped onto the street.

Coincidentally, he saw a crowd gathering by the roadside.

He glanced at it once—

Then immediately lost interest.

He didn't like crowds.

But then—

The Saintess's voice, echoing from the crowd, pulled him back.

He approached the edge of the crowd.

There, he saw a screen.

The Saintess was giving a public announcement, explaining the bill that required a public vote by all citizens of the Tokyo Area:

The New Gastrea Law.

Rentaro blinked in surprise.

He had spent most of the past few days in the hospital—But he still knew a few things about what had happened.

It was the Cursed Children who saved the Tokyo Area.

The Saintess was actively promoting their role.

And the third version of the law even contained several provisions that would tangibly benefit the citizens of the Tokyo Area.

So logically, the bill should…

"How could we possibly give human rights to those monsters?! They should all be kicked out of Tokyo!"

A sudden outburst rang through the crowd.

Rentaro's expression turned grim.

He looked in disbelief at the man who had shouted—But before he could even react, a wave of shouting surged around him.

Everyone was loudly opposing the bill.

Most of them—90% of the people here—had no idea what the bill actually said. All they knew was that this new law was meant to help the Cursed Children.

So they shouted.

They vented their hatred.

Though perhaps—it wasn't even hatred.

Maybe it was just the thrill of shouting with the crowd.

Maybe it was the atmosphere of discrimination, long ingrained in them, that drove them to speak without reason. Or maybe it was just herd mentality—everyone else was against it, so they felt like they had to join in too.

Would they lose anything if they didn't?

Oh—they didn't care.

Rentaro stumbled back two steps, dazed as he looked at the crowd.

The gray world bared its fangs once more.

Only now—there were no victims left to tear apart.

"Hey, what happened to that Cursed Child who used to beg at the plaza? Haven't seen her lately."

"No idea. Probably starved to death. Honestly, she got off easy."

"Those Cursed Children are disgusting. They're never around when needed, but always pop up to make people sick."

Conversations like these murmured around the edges of the crowd.

Frustrated by having no outlet for their anger, these people were fuming.

Rentaro clenched his fist.

His newly-installed cybernetic arm was squeezing so hard it nearly crushed the synthetic skin.

He glared at the ones talking.

His breathing grew rough.

But after a few moments—

Rentaro let go.

He was angry, yes.

But he also believed that this was how the world worked.

Even if he stepped forward and attacked them—All it would do is bring trouble.

No one was hurt right now anyway.

So, he told himself—it's better to just let it go.

And with that—

Rentaro quietly stepped forward into the crowd.

At the voting terminal for the New Gastrea Law—He entered his ID and cast a vote in support. Then he slipped back out of the crowd and left in silence.

He even felt a little anxious—Worried someone might realize he had voted in favor.

But this wasn't unusual.

Scenes like this played out all across Tokyo.

Each street seemed to be acting out the same kind of farce.

The votes accumulated bit by bit.

Time ticked by—

Quietly advancing the gears of fate.