Mayers drove the sports car back to the skyscraper where the hunting team resided.

It was a high-end office building owned by the Sumitomo Group, towering forty-six stories high. The top floor had been handed over to the hunting team, and the company that originally operated there had been asked to leave. Only four people lived on the entire floor.

Apart from him and Yuzuki Suzuko, there were two other figures with notorious reputations in the underworld.

One was a sniper known as Hawkeye, second only to the Street Cleaner in Japan. He was adept at using the CheyTac M200 sniper rifle. It boasted the longest range among all modern sniper rifles, capable of hitting targets with precision smaller than a four-millimeter coin at a distance of up to 2,286 meters. The bullets fired could still travel at supersonic speeds two kilometers away. Of course, Hawkeye's effective range wasn't that far; he could only hit targets within 1,400 meters. The skyscraper was 1,300 meters away from their surveillance target, which was well within his range.

Apart from Hawkeye, there was also a master of assassination martial arts known as Hidden Wolf. People in the underworld tended to give themselves codenames and never used their real names when meeting others. It was a form of cover. Mayers was one of the few who preferred to use his real name. Because he had no kin or friends to speak of, he naturally wasn't worried about anyone using them against him.

He entered the building and took the elevator straight to the top floor.

DING. The elevator door slowly opened, and he stepped into the empty corridor, smiling. "Hidden Wolf, has the target shown up yet?"

"No," a voice suddenly replied from the empty corridor.

Mayers looked towards the source of the sound but still couldn't see Hidden Wolf. The latter had undergone rigorous training. He knew how to exploit blind spots in human vision for movement and understood how to conceal his presence. Humans do emanate a presence. While most people find it difficult to discern, some can sense when someone is approaching them from behind. Hidden Wolf's talent lay in his silent, almost invisible movement, hidden within visual blind spots, like an imperceptible ghost. Of course, if one watched him through surveillance, they would find Hidden Wolf's movements rather comical. Mayers had watched once and nearly laughed himself to death.

"That's a real shame. I just dissected the body of a Superpower User and can't wait to dissect a second one," Mayers remarked with feigned regret.

Hidden Wolf's voice came through with a sneer, "Superpower User, huh? I'm curious what color their blood is."

"Haha, I'm quite curious myself," Mayers replied, knowing full well that Hidden Wolf didn't believe in the existence of Superpower Users. He didn't bother explaining further. Some things can't be believed merely on words unless witnessed firsthand.

He walked to Hawkeye's sniping point. The place had once been a large office for a company; after being cleared out, it seemed extraordinarily spacious. Hawkeye lay on a soft cushion, with a square cutout in front of him where the CheyTac M200 sniper rifle could be extended outside.

Wind howled outside the window. Hawkeye lay motionless, looking anything but cool. He had a catheter inserted and his rear exposed, requiring constant assistance with waste removal and feeding. To ensure he could shoot the target at the first opportunity, Hawkeye had to remain in position at all times. As a sniper, Hawkeye's record was staying motionless in one spot for an entire month before getting the chance to eliminate an enemy.

Hawkeye lacked the cool demeanor of Hollywood movie snipers. Instead, he appeared much more ruthless, like an indifferent machine. He discarded all leisure and dignity expected of humans, solely for the moment of pulling the trigger. His terrifying willpower makes him highly worthy of dissection, Mayers thought.

"Motomura has started acting conspicuously per our request. Now, it's just a matter of when Dio will appear," Mayers said, picking up the binoculars on the table and gazing into the distance.

Since Dio often targeted the Yakuza, Mayers had chosen one of their members as bait: the head of the Motomura group, Kotaro Motomura. His given name, Kotaro, included a character meaning 'filial piety,' but his actions were entirely unrelated to it. He was the kind of man who would sell his own mother for money. His main business involved catering to people attracted to children. To put it bluntly, all pedophiles were his potential clients. Whether it involved boys or girls, from East Asia or foreign countries, the Motomura group had the connections and also offered clean-up services. As long as clients purchased their clean-up service, the Motomura group would retrieve any children accidentally killed and secretly help their clients erase all traces.

Even Mayers, upon learning of Kotaro Motomura's line of work, couldn't help but remark, "The man truly deserves to die." He believed that as soon as Dio learned of this, Dio would not stand idly by.

From their position, they could precisely see everything inside Motomura's office. If Dio approached Motomura, Hawkeye would pull the trigger. The bullet would hit Dio accurately from 1,300 meters away, without any worry about the glass being an obstacle. Motomura had removed the office's glass to ensure an unobstructed shot for the tranquilizer dart at Dio. A dose strong enough to knock out a whale should suffice to sedate him.

That is, if anesthetics are effective on Superpower Users. If Dio can withstand the tranquilizer, then we'll be in danger. But this gambling thrill exhilarated Mayers. He wasn't afraid of danger. What he feared was its absence; a dull life is unbearable for him.

Mayers looked at Kotaro Motomura in the office, his face eager. "Come on, Dio~"

Yuzuki Suzuko sighed behind him. She hoped Dio wouldn't show up and was even considering resigning; the danger this time felt too high. The money was too hot to handle.

At five in the afternoon, inside Ayase Apartment.

Morimoto Chiyoda finished work on time, grateful that she had poached Miyaji Yosuke. In terms of work, there really was nothing to criticize about him. Since his wife and daughter were in Kyoto, Miyaji Yosuke didn't need to rent a place separately and simply made the special investigation team's office his home. Hardworking and willing to undertake any task, he complied unconditionally with Emily's requests to work overtime. This truly relieved Morimoto Chiyoda.

But in her heart, she also harbored a little desire to work overtime. No one wants to settle for mediocrity. However, in reality, there are too many constraints. Aozawa's presence means I have to choose an ordinary life; only in this way can I ensure Aozawa's safety. Giving up the restlessness in my heart to take care of Aozawa—is it worth it for me? To outsiders, it might not seem worth it, but I think it's very worthwhile. Otherwise, I wouldn't have given it all up. Taking care of Aozawa's three meals a day is, for me, a meaningful task.

She returned home and began to prepare dinner. Walking into the kitchen, Morimoto Chiyoda skillfully put on a white apron and easily tied her long black hair into a ponytail with a hairband. Her black hair was smooth as silk. Humming a song, she took out all the vegetables that had been washed in the morning, rinsed them again, and then quickly started chopping.

She hadn't had time to cook much at noon, so naturally, the evening meal had to be more sumptuous. Morimoto Chiyoda often made four dishes and occasionally cooked soup—either meat-based or vegetable. Today, Morimoto Chiyoda was in a good mood because the special investigation team had discovered a second failed Superpower User, so she decided to make four dishes and a soup. The four dishes were potato stew with meat, stir-fried chili with green vegetables, Steamed Pork with Preserved Mustard Greens, and Mapo Tofu. For soup, she made a delicious coconut chicken soup.

Morimoto Chiyoda started bustling about in the kitchen, quickly putting work matters out of her mind. This kind of peaceful daily life is the happiness I seek.

Once the coconut chicken soup was ready, Morimoto Chiyoda, wearing oven mitts, placed the clay pot on the kitchen counter. She opened the lid, and a rich fragrance wafted out.

At that moment, the door opened.

"Chitose, I'm back!"

The familiar shout made Morimoto Chiyoda's lips curl into a smile. "Welcome back. Wash your hands; dinner's ready."

"Alright."

Aozawa closed the door behind him, tossed his backpack onto the sofa, went to wash his hands, and then sat on a barstool, smiling. "We even have chicken soup today! It smells so good."

"It's to help you build up your strength," Morimoto Chiyoda said, serving rice and handing it to him. "How was school today?"

"Great!" Aozawa's face was full of smiles. Apart from the pain of absorbing knowledge during class, the rest of my time at school felt quite content and fulfilling.

"Hearing that, it seems like something good happened?" Morimoto Chiyoda took off her white apron, her face showing curiosity.

Aozawa thought for a moment, then lied, "I had a bento made by a cute junior for lunch."

"Sometimes, I think you don't need to be so honest," Morimoto Chiyoda retorted, placing a piece of chicken from the soup into his bowl. "Don't tell me things like that. Just eat."

"You asked me."

Morimoto Chiyoda didn't answer, just rolled her eyes. I thought it was some playful interaction between friends, but it turned out to be *this*. What a waste of my curiosity.

After enjoying the sumptuous dinner, Aozawa and Morimoto Chiyoda chatted leisurely for a while before Aozawa announced he was going out for a run.

Morimoto Chiyoda didn't stop him from going out, supposedly to chat with young girls. Occasionally forgiving a man's lies is the kind of sophistication a mature woman ought to have. After all, if his lies are exposed later, I won't be the one to feel sad or suffer. Let Aozawa enjoy his moment of pride for now.

She put the dishes and cutlery into the dishwasher and also began to exercise. I want to improve my reactions for when a crisis strikes.

Aozawa took the elevator downstairs and ran outside. Following his usual route of thirteen kilometers in an hour, he arrived at the familiar small park. The streetlights flickered.

HUFF, HUFF. He panted a few times, then crouched down and used his Catalyst sensing ability to ensure there were no outsiders in the park.

Aozawa stood up, entered a small grove, and used Schrodinger's Cat, his body gradually becoming semi-transparent.

With a thought, he left the grove and appeared on bustling Shinjuku Street. Colorful neon signs flashed on both sides, and the street was crowded with people. He floated in the air, looking down at the stream of people before him.

His body drifted towards an adjacent building. Aozawa raised his right hand, placed it on the wall, and using his Catalyst sensing ability, began searching for tonight's lucky spectator.