Chapter 04: A man With a black suit.
Kyouta stepped out of his house and into the crisp morning air, the faint scent of blooming flowers carried by a gentle breeze. The streets of Saikono City were alive with the hum of daily life—cars rumbling past, pedestrians chatting, and the occasional hero patrolling the area, their presence a reassuring reminder of safety in a city often teetering on the edge of chaos.
The walk to school was a familiar routine, taking him about 17 minutes. Kyouta never bothered with transportation; the school was close enough to his brother's house, and he enjoyed the quiet moments of solitude the walk provided.
As he strolled through the neighborhood, his eyes wandered over the scenery. The houses were painted in muted shades of red, their walls weathered but sturdy. The gray pavement stretched out before him, lined with parked cars and the occasional tree swaying in the breeze. Above, the sky was a brilliant blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds that drifted lazily across the horizon. The air was mild, neither too hot nor too cold, carrying the faint promise of spring.
Kyouta reached a pedestrian crossing and stopped, the red light signaling him to wait. Around him, a small crowd had gathered—a tired-looking man in a suit clutching a brown leather bag, a young girl holding her mother's hand, and a couple of others who seemed lost in their own thoughts.
Then, two men stepped up behind him.
They weren't overtly threatening, but their presence was impossible to ignore. Both were tall and muscular, their broad shoulders filling out their black suits. They wore matching black sunglasses and earpieces, their expressions stern and unreadable. They exuded an air of authority, the kind that made ordinary people instinctively avoid eye contact.
Kyouta didn't turn around, but he could feel their presence looming behind him. Their voices, low and measured, carried over the faint hum of traffic.
"Why don't they just genetically modify a new one anyway?" one of them muttered.
"They spent billions of dollars on one spider. You think they're going to throw that kind of money around again? Impossible," the other replied.
"The most impossible thing is finding a spider that escaped from a high-security lab. It'd be easier to spend another billion than to deal with this mess they've dumped on us."
"I don't care about any of that. As long as I get paid, I'll do my job."
"Doing your job? How exactly are we supposed to do that when the spider's signal has disappeared? It's obviously dead or something. Just a failed experiment..."
"Whether it's dead or alive, a failed experiment or not, that's not our problem. Just focus on doing your job. The results don't matter to us."
The light turned green, and the crowd began to move. Kyouta hesitated for a moment, his mind racing as he processed the conversation.
*'Am I imagining things, or are they talking about a genetically modified spider? There are some strange jobs out there... Speaking of spiders, that bite didn't cause any harm. Maybe it wasn't venomous after all. Lucky me—I thought I'd have to bother my brother with hospital bills...'*
Shaking off the thought, Kyouta crossed the street and continued his walk to school. As he approached the building, he sighed, the events of the previous day flooding back to him.
*'It'll be fine as long as they don't ask me to do anything more than clean the classroom...'*
The school corridors were bustling with students, their chatter filling the air. But as Kyouta walked through, he noticed the whispers. Heads turned in his direction, and eyes followed him with a mix of curiosity and pity.
"Look, it's the transfer student everyone's talking about."
"You mean the guy who became a servant to Hayter's group?"
"He looks so skinny and weak. I feel bad for him."
"His life here is going to be rough. I wish I could help him, but I can't go against Hayter and his friends."
"Shh! If anyone hears you talking about helping him, you'll be next. We're C-rankers—we don't have the right to stand up to S-rankers. That's the law of this school."
Kyouta's brow furrowed as he walked.
*'Why can I hear their whispers so clearly? They're supposed to be talking without me knowing. Why am I able to hear them?'*
This was the second time today that Kyouta had heard things he shouldn't have. Unlike the overwhelming barrage of sounds that morning, this time he only heard the whispers directed at him, as if his mind had tuned into them deliberately.
He entered his classroom and took his seat, trying to shake off the unease. The morning passed uneventfully—teachers lectured, pens scratched against paper, and students listened attentively. But when the break bell rang, Kyouta's brief respite came to an end.
As he stood to leave for the canteen, a voice called out to him.
"Kota-san, can you come here for a moment?"
Kyouta froze. He didn't need to look to know who it was.
Slowly, he turned toward the source of the voice. Sitting at a desk in the corner of the room was Hayter, the leader of the most powerful group in the school. Surrounding him were three other students, their expressions a mix of amusement and disdain.
Hayter was the epitome of confidence, his sharp features and piercing gaze commanding attention. His two friends with S-rank abilities stood to his left, their postures relaxed but their eyes sharp. The third, an A-ranker, leaned casually against the desk, a smirk playing on his lips.
Kyouta walked over, his expression calm but his heart pounding.
"Kota? And who is this? My name is Kyouta, and I think you know how to pronounce it already," he said, his tone steady.
One of Hayter's lackeys chuckled. "Since when does a servant have the right to talk back to his commander like that? Have you forgotten your place?"
Kyouta met his gaze but said nothing.
Hayter raised a hand, silencing his friend. "Calm down, guys. No need to be so harsh. Kyouta-san is one of us now. In fact, today he's going to volunteer to buy us breakfast with his own money."
The classroom fell silent, all eyes turning to Kyouta. The other students looked on with pity, knowing full well he had no choice in the matter.
Hayter's friends laughed, already placing their orders.
"I'll take chocolate milk and a light sandwich."
"Just lemonade and some chocolate for me."
"I want a cappuccin—"
Before the third could finish, Kyouta cut in, his voice firm and unwavering.
"I'm not here to fulfill your wishes. You're asking the wrong person."
The room went dead silent. Every pair of eyes widened in shock, including Hayter's.
Hayter leaned forward, his expression darkening. "Huh? What did I just hear?"
Kyouta stood his ground, his heart racing but his face calm. The tension in the room was palpable, a storm brewing just beneath the surface.
This was no ordinary day. It was the beginning of something far greater, a turning point that would redefine Kyouta's life in ways he could never have imagined.
.
.