Chapter 78: "Affinity"

Just as Yuki and Soya Homare embarked on a journey totaling six days round-trip, their captain, Hasui, remained seated at his desk, poring over the dossier that had only been handed to him the day before—Yuki's file.

This time, the records were more comprehensive than ever: from Yuki’s birth certificate, school enrollment, exam scores, employment history, to detailed activity logs during his tenure—all meticulously unearthed by the Foreign Affairs Unknown Division with the fervor of investigators hunting down cosmic criminals. His social connections, family background, workplace relationships—every aspect was documented with painstaking thoroughness.

The investigators assigned to the task were naturally perplexed. Who was this human? Why such scrutiny? Yet, since last week, their department had been transferred under the Special Forces, and their roles officially became military. Obedience to orders was now their duty, and so the captain’s request was carried out with diligence.

Hasui rubbed his brow in mild frustration. From all these files, he had found nothing about Yuki that set him apart from others.

Yet, through their interactions, the captain had learned that there seemed to be an abnormal volume of information stored within Yuki’s mind—spanning distant history, imminent futures, and even fragments from parallel universes.

However, most of it was disjointed, fragmented, without context or continuity. It was remarkable that Yuki remembered so much at all.

Hasui had heard of cases where, after a severe illness or traumatic event, people awoke from comas and inexplicably acquired languages they had never encountered—as if they had lived abroad for years, able to recount foreign customs and landscapes with ease.

Yuki, too, had faced a near-death crisis. After twelve days in a coma, he awoke, utterly changed.

During his hospital stay, he underwent numerous physical examinations, including brain CT scans. Yet neither the doctors nor Hasui himself could find anything unusual, even in the extensive records that practically dissected Yuki.

At that moment, Hasui’s gaze flickered—he noticed the computer screen before him seemed to ripple. At first, he wondered if exhaustion was causing hallucinations. The next moment, he realized the screen was indeed undulating like water.

A dark blue hand, with slender, sharp fingertips, emerged from the watery waves of the screen, reaching elegantly and slowly toward Hasui.

Hasui paused only briefly. The next moment, he set down his coffee cup and grasped the hand extended toward him.

The hand’s owner appeared surprised—perhaps never having encountered such a situation, instinctively trying to pull back.

But it was too late; Hasui held firm. Sensing the attempt to withdraw, he tightened his grip, even trying to pull the figure from the screen.

The resistance faded. Hasui felt the tension in his arm ease, and the diminutive blue giant of light crawled out from the screen as he wished.

Torekiya had only half-emerged. He surveyed the surroundings carefully, his gaze—masked and veiled—falling upon the human who held his hand.

No, perhaps “humanoid entity” was a more fitting description.

For Torekiya, encountering an old acquaintance in a distant land was rarely a good omen. His “acquaintances” either sought his life, wanted trouble, or simply irritated him.

Yet this situation was worse—what could be more vexing than running into a creditor far from home? Especially when said creditor gripped his hand as if refusing to let him leave without settling the debt.

As these thoughts crossed his mind, Torekiya found himself fully out of the screen, seated upright atop the desk. The mouse and keyboard had been swept aside by his leg.

As for the coffee cup originally on the desk? Just before it was about to be knocked over, the man before him swiftly snatched it up.

“It’s been a while... All right, come down,” Hasui said, leaning over to pull a chair beside him and inviting the blue giant of light, encased in mask and restraints, to sit by his side.

Torekiya did not refuse; he seemed lost in thought, obediently stepping down and taking the seat.

Once settled, he furrowed his brow, reflecting on his own unusual compliance, casting a wary glance at his “old acquaintance.”

“What is this power? Psychological suggestion, inducement?”

Hasui, hearing this, took a sip of coffee to mask the slight change in his expression, then set the cup down and smiled. “Seems I can’t fool you. Yuki also seems to sense something, but he hasn’t asked me yet.”

“I prefer to call it ‘affinity’.”

That was quite the gilded term. Torekiya couldn’t help but roll his eyes and glance away.

“Eye contact, the sound of my voice—both radiate this influence.”

So, as long as I keep my distance, avoid eye contact, and don’t listen to him, I won’t be affected.

“Originally, affinity was just an ordinary adjective, at most making others feel comfortable, more trusting, and enhancing the persuasiveness of one’s words,” Hasui observed Torekiya, who sat quietly—not nearly as “active” as rumors suggested, but rather much like when they first met a thousand years ago and Hasui brought him into the Bureau of Science and Technology.

“But due to certain reasons, this influence has been amplified, resulting in some... interesting effects and phenomena,” he said with a hint of amusement, evidently enjoying the situation.

Torekiya understood.

In other words, when someone is affected by this inexplicable power, as long as they follow your lead, they feel relaxed and happy. Whatever you say, they believe.

Hasui made no attempt to conceal this trait, gladly offering this information as a reward to those who noticed. Those with strong self-will and awareness could theoretically resist the influence to some degree, noticing inconsistencies in their actions, and even break free.

That Torekiya was the one to notice made it all the more interesting.

“This isn’t something I can control. I ask your understanding.”

Such a useful ability.

Torekiya envied it for only a moment before dismissing the feeling.

He was a demon who manipulated hearts by true skill, and had little respect for such almost divinely bestowed, uncontrollable gifts.