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“Please, please ring me up quickly!”

“This crazy old man! I grabbed this first! Why are you taking things out of someone else’s cart to ring up?! Ha! This is exactly why this country would be better off without old folks!”

“Just ring me up already! I don’t need change, just do it!”

“Please, don’t take everything! I have kids at home!”

Chaos.

Utter chaos.

The supermarket was a scene straight out of a disaster movie, a pandemonium of flailing arms and angry faces. People shoved each other aside, shouting loudly as they fought, and swarms of shoppers piled items into their carts without even checking prices. Some were brazenly snatching items off other people’s carts, and scenes of wrestling over goods were unfolding everywhere.

Seeing well-dressed individuals participating in this madness made it feel as if Japan was on the verge of apocalypse.

This chaos could be seen in every corner.

The contamination that began in Minato Ward quickly spread without warning. Fortunately, the government had gathered all capable people—including wizards, onmyoji, and alchemists—and implemented emergency measures to prevent the contaminated water from spreading to other areas, using the time they gained to bring in equipment from other countries to isolate the source of the contamination and start cleaning the water.

With the Prime Minister, whose life was on the line, moving swiftly as if his feet were on fire to take charge, the situation was managed quickly, preventing the contamination that started in Minato Ward from spreading throughout Tokyo or even the nation.

How truly fortunate.

However, even if the contamination was dealt with, it didn’t mean everything was resolved.

No, in fact, it could be argued that it was just the beginning.

Mass hysteria.

The horrifying chorus of terrified humans gathered in a frenzy, crying out.

“Explain this situation, Liberal Democratic Party!”

“What the heck is going on?! We must make this clear to the people!”

Japan, known for its virtue in obeying and following superiors without showing extraordinary behavior, was different this time. The residents of affluent neighborhoods who suffered damage and citizens of Tokyo who nearly drank contaminated water gathered, raising their voices in protest.

A protest.

It was a protest.

“Clarify it! Clarify it!”

“Government! Clarify it!”

How many had gathered?

Thousands? Tens of thousands?

Countless citizens were participating in protest, shouting out loud.

They demanded an explanation for this situation, that we understand it!

“This… this can’t be happening….”

Numbers equate to violence.

Most of the protesters were peaceful individuals, but their numbers had reached a level teetering on violence.

The Japanese government found itself panicking at the sight of such a large-scale protest that hadn’t happened in a long time.

It wasn’t that they lacked a manual for protests.

No, they had quite a thorough one.

While hitting extraordinary individuals to put them in their place is part of Japan’s education system, and obedience to superiors is a virtue of the Japanese people, there are always rebels and those who actively express complaints.

There were often people choosing protests as a means to voice their grievances, and each time, the government efficiently dispersed these protests according to the manual. If a few dozen or hundred gathered, they deployed police to disband them. If the numbers exceeded that, they used “special methods” to capture the leaders and blur the issue away.

But now… it seemed they couldn’t resort to those methods.

To forcibly disperse them?

That only worked for small-scale protests.

If they attempted to use violence now, those large crowds merely raising their voices might completely lose their minds.

And just look at those participating in the protest.

They were all dressed in expensive clothing and accessories, filled with individuals who seemed familiar from somewhere.

The affected area from the contamination was a famously affluent neighborhood in Japan, and those living in that neighborhood were naturally privileged people.

They were wealthy, with high social status, extensive connections, and power.

And now, they were firmly planted there, shouting loudly.

To suppress them by force?

Sure.

Let’s say they do suppress them.

What then about the aftershocks?

Those who merely shouted in protest wouldn’t easily stay silent after facing aggression.

They would actively use their power to return their grievances multi-fold.

As for the higher-ups?

Those esteemed individuals might manage to dodge the storm.

They could meet up privately, or use the power of the living authorities to somehow smooth things over.

But what about those who obediently followed the commands of the upper echelons?

They would face the consequences.

No doubt.

They would be sacrificed to quell the anger of the crowd, losing money, job, and facing miserable decline due to the power they wielded. If they were lucky, they might get on their knees and beg for mercy to avoid any repercussions.

Under such circumstances, using coercive methods was absolutely out of the question.

There was no reason to employ a method that would neither end well nor be efficient, and carried the risk of poking a beehive.

So, then what method should they employ?

What could they do to appease those angry voices?

No, actually.

There’s no need to calm them down.

I do not expect that anger to subside at all.

Although the Japanese are known to be a peace-loving people, historically they have lived closely with swords.

The blade hidden beneath the beautiful chrysanthemum.

That blade, that sharp and glistening blade… it must be dealt with somehow.

Calming it would be best, but if that proves difficult…

“…I will now announce the results from the police station’s investigation.”

If that blade can no longer be concealed,

Then…

“…the investigation results….”

We must redirect the energy of that blade.

“…traces of toxic substances have been confirmed at the South Korean Embassy in Japan.”

* * *

“I’m not sure this is the right approach….”

The Prime Minister muttered, almost in a daze.

His face looked old, frail, as if he were on the brink of death, and his tone brimmed with the bitterness of life’s regrets. Moreover, the hand on the table trembled due to stress, and having not eaten properly, he nearly spilled the tea when he attempted to lift the cup.

A sight that naturally drew sympathy.

And before him sat middle-aged politicians.

In stark contrast to the elderly-looking Prime Minister, they exuded an inexplicable enthusiasm that made them appear younger than their age.

“Prime Minister, this was the right approach. In fact, there was no other approach.”

The middle-aged man with thinning hair seated before the Prime Minister spoke.

His eyes glinted with a mix of passion and possibly madness, and his voice carried a strong sense of direction.

Persuasiveness.

There was undeniable strength in the words coming from the middle-aged man.

The Prime Minister looked at him with powerless eyes.

‘Elder Ryuunosuke….’

The politician who spoke with an excessive amount of confidence was connected to Murata Ryuunosuke. It was said that he frequently attended the clubs hosted by Ryuunosuke, and that he was a promising figure supported by that faction.

Sure enough, he seemed to have the charm befitting a promising individual.

One could sense a magnetic pull in those short sentences he delivered.

Furthermore, his attitude overflowed with passion, reminiscent of the Prime Minister’s younger self.

“I, too, was like that when I was young….”

The Prime Minister, too, had once embodied that very energetic persona.

He had handled his responsibilities zealously, and no matter how much he drank, he never got intoxicated.

His capabilities as a man were also remarkable; he had never been without women by his side.

He had two mistresses and six children to prove it.

“The Yamato people are a passionate lot, once ignited they do not easily extinguish. The anger of the Japanese people will move in any direction, so it’s far easier to redirect it than to evolve it. As history has shown us, we must act efficiently.”

The middle-aged politician asserted in a powerful voice.

The Prime Minister’s choice had indeed been correct.

Using a method that had historically proven effective was the best choice, and what the Prime Minister had done was, according to history, act according to the “manual” that had never failed.

The Prime Minister felt anxiety settling in as he listened to the middle-aged politician’s words, which resembled a reflection of his younger self.

“Hmm, I suppose you’re right…?”

The Prime Minister knew as well.

That this choice was the best one.

It was the only way for his life and his party to survive this moment.

Other options?

Sure, they existed.

But to compare the choices that would incur losses with the one that could, if executed correctly, turn crisis into opportunity, there was truly little alternative.

So the Prime Minister chose the best.

According to his common sense.

According to his party’s consensus.

And so… he made his choice.

Why, then?

Why did it feel as if that choice was wrong?

Clatter.

The Prime Minister set his cup down on the table after taking a sip.

Then, he glanced at the people near the middle-aged politician.

Worn out for some reason, with sunken eyes and deep dark circles under them.

Like the Prime Minister, their fingertips trembled delicately.

Their bodies were either emaciated or chubby.

There was no typical body shape among them.

They looked at the Prime Minister with deceitful smiles plastered across their faces.

‘This rising faction lately… they say they’ve been close with Elder Ryuunosuke….’

As his gaze landed on them, they echoed the earlier middle-aged politician’s words.

“Everything will turn out fine.”

“Everything will move in the right direction. We do not doubt that.”

They smiled at him as if to reassure him.

“Do not worry, Prime Minister. Even if things go awry, we will not fall into the abyss.”

 

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