【Don’t think about killing yourself, Scotch. You shouldn’t die here.】
【I’m FBI undercover agent Akai Shuichi…】
“Bang—!”
Morofushi Mitsuhiko’s eyes snapped open.
Like a ringing in his ears, the piercing sound completely overwhelmed all his senses. In his world, there was no sound other than that gunshot.
Before him was an overexposed white light, and the dizziness kept him seated against the wall. The unfamiliar tightness and pain in his heart, along with its accelerated beating, left him somewhat dazed.
Am I dead?
This thought surfaced in Morofushi Mitsuhiko’s nearly paralyzed mind, but years of undercover instincts still drove him to assess his current situation.
The ringing in his ears slowly faded, and the overexposed white light before him began to give way to large, blurry patches of color. The world was no longer blank.
A hand reached toward him. Reacting faster than thought, Morofushi Mitsuhiko instinctively grabbed the wrist of that hand. Then, intermittent cries of pain and exclamations replaced the ringing in his ears, and the patches of color finally took on their true forms.
This made Morofushi Mitsuhiko, who had intended to pin the person to the ground, pause abruptly, forcibly stopping at merely gripping the other’s wrist.
The unfamiliar young man before him, dressed in the familiar police academy uniform, wore a somewhat pained expression. Gasping for breath, he stammered, “Mo-Morofushi—let go…!”
Their situation drew the attention of others nearby. Morofushi Mitsuhiko’s now-clear vision swept over the onlookers and the surrounding environment.
He pursed his lips silently, released his grip, and curved his lips into a polite, apologetic smile. “Sorry, I was just spacing out.”
The unfamiliar young man rubbed his wrist, which now bore a clear palm print, and complained, “I didn’t expect someone who looks as gentle as you to be so strong, Morofushi.”
“Apologies.” Morofushi Mitsuhiko’s face showed genuine remorse as he glanced toward the door and subtly shifted a few steps in that direction.
“Forget it, forget it. I just came to call you for assembly.” The young man seemed good-natured and asked curiously, “What were you thinking about? I called you for a while, but you didn’t respond.”
“Thinking about the upcoming classes,” Morofushi Mitsuhiko tested.
The young man before him showed no change in demeanor, nodding in understanding. “I thought you weren’t nervous at all! But I get it—this is my first time handling a handgun!”
“Yeah,” Morofushi Mitsuhiko replied. “A bit nervous.”
Morofushi Mitsuhiko naturally walked alongside the young man, joining the others who had been nearby earlier. Through their conversations, he learned the young man’s name was Ueno.
Ueno chattered on, and Morofushi Mitsuhiko chimed in from time to time, effortlessly steering the conversation in the direction he wanted.
“Instructor Onizuka,” “police academy,” “training,” “classmates.”
One keyword after another emerged.
Once everyone had gathered, Morofushi Mitsuhiko saw Instructor Onizuka, whom he hadn’t seen in a long time.
Instructor Onizuka was just as he remembered—looking fiercer and stricter than anyone else, no different from his memory.
Morofushi Mitsuhiko maintained an expressionless face, imprinting the appearances of all his “classmates” in his mind.
Everyone was unfamiliar.
Aside from Instructor Onizuka standing at the front explaining today’s lesson.
He had already learned these courses long ago, so at this moment, his mind was divided, paying little attention to Instructor Onizuka’s ramblings.
He was analyzing his current situation.
His name was Morofushi Mitsuhiko, 26 years old, a Gong’an undercover agent. And just before he opened his eyes, he had chosen to commit suicide after his identity was exposed.
Logically speaking, after that gunshot, he should have vanished.
So, what was happening now?
A familiar police academy, a familiar instructor, unfamiliar classmates.
Resurrection? Time travel? Reversing time?
Morofushi Mitsuhiko had encountered many similar literary works in his youth and wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with these concepts.
But after these keywords flashed through his mind, he slightly lowered his gaze and dismissed this possibility from his thoughts.
Compared to fantastical light novel literature, he had been exposed to other things more often.
Like technology.
And also… psychology.
Morofushi Mitsuhiko had suffered psychological trauma due to family misfortune in his childhood, even developing mutism for a period due to mental disorder. Although he later regained his ability to speak thanks to a close friend, nightmares continued to haunt him into adulthood.
To understand related symptoms and avoid worrying his friends, his bookshelf contained a fair number of books on mental and psychological topics.
At the same time, as an adult Gong’an police officer, Morofushi Mitsuhiko went undercover in a black organization and learned about many unconventional technological methods.
For example, shortly after joining the organization as a sniper, he was taken to a base.
This base housed technology far beyond what existed in the outside world. The organization could replicate realistic human scenes before their eyes using Quánxī Tóuyǐng, enabling them to conduct sniper training and tests tailored to specific environments.
A CEO sitting on a sofa in a high-rise building, a leisurely man fishing by a lake, a driver on a highway—all could be replicated through Quánxī Tóuyǐng.
At this time, ordinary people outside were still using bulky flip phones.
The technology within the organization was too advanced. Due to his role as a sniper, he hadn’t been exposed to much research-related intelligence, but he could still recognize the technical sophistication involved.
Even without direct exposure, his years undercover had allowed him to glean some true or false information from organization members and internal communications.
Although he hadn’t verified it yet… he had heard that the organization was also involved in the fields of Nǎodiàn Bō and psychology.
It seemed possible to connect to Nǎodiàn Bō and directly enter another mental space or something similar.
Specific details weren’t disclosed, and what Morofushi Mitsuhiko knew was only peripheral.
But just knowing this much forced Morofushi Mitsuhiko to heighten his vigilance.
After his undercover identity was exposed, he chose to commit suicide immediately. The organization member Rye, who appeared before him first, revealed himself as an FBI undercover agent.
But was this man, who claimed to be FBI undercover agent Akai Shuichi, truly trustworthy?
Had his suicide really succeeded?
Was he truly dead?
Before his suicide, Scotch had never revealed his real name, doing everything possible to avoid implicating friends and family. So he destroyed his phone, and the data inside should have been irrecoverable.
But why is he still alive now?
Why can he still think, why does he appear at the police academy as his 22-year-old self?
And why are none of the friends he knows here—
Instructor Onizuka finally finished the relevant course and had everyone collect their service handguns.
Morofushi Mitsuhiko followed in the middle of the line, neither conspicuous nor unnoticeable, and he smiled as he picked up one of the handguns.
The familiar yet unfamiliar service handgun filled him with a sense of nostalgia, and memories of his time at the police academy and his experiences with friends surfaced in his mind.
Whether the organization would misuse Nǎodiàn Bō-related technology to extract his information and intelligence through his subconscious, Morofushi Mitsuhiko did not know.
Whether Rye, who claimed to be Akai Shuichi, could be trusted.
Morofushi Mitsuhiko dared not gamble, nor could he afford to.
At this moment, he could only be certain of one thing.
—Morofushi Mitsuhiko should not be alive right now.
The longer he lived, the more information he would expose.
A living Morofushi Mitsuhiko would implicate his friends who were still undercover.
The police academy students present all stood before their targets, aiming their guns at the center of the targets, the sound of bullets ringing in their ears.
Morofushi Mitsuhiko also raised his service handgun.
Then, he aimed it at his own heart.
[Bang—]
Author’s Note:
Working overtime until the world went dark, I looked up and saw it was December 7th—Officer Morofushi died in the line of duty. I feel like I’m about to go too, so I started this story (thumbs up).
Also, check out the other series next door!
“Officer Matsuda Wants to Save Himself”
“Officer Hagiwara Wants to Save Himself”