# 618
Chapter 619: Mementos
The moment those words were spoken, the surroundings fell silent.
Police officers who had been walking past Lin Qiye and the girl instinctively turned their heads, quietly sizing up Yuzuri Nana and whispering to their partners.
The policewoman froze for a second, then flipped open the register in her hand and held it out to Yuzuri Nana.
“Please write your name, ID number, and contact details here. Your companion too.”
After Yuzuri Nana finished filling in her information, Lin Qiye took the register and wrote the name “Asaba Nanaya.” For the ID field he invented a string of digits, and the contact number was equally fictitious.
The policewoman glanced at the page, tucked the register away, and led the two deeper into the station.
“Follow me.”
They trailed her down several corridors and finally entered a cramped room. Metal racks stood in neat rows, each shelf crowded with mundane yet odd objects—belts, necklaces, mobile phones, earrings… Every item bore a tag with a code and the original owner’s name.
The policewoman checked her paperwork, located a basket on one rack, and lifted it out to Yuzuri Nana.
“These are the personal effects found on Yuzuri Kurotetsu. Please verify them. If everything’s in order, sign here, then collect his ashes next door.”
Lin Qiye’s gaze swept the basket. The contents were simple, almost ordinary: a lighter, a ring, a phone shattered beyond recognition, and a wallet.
“Only these?” he asked.
“Yes—everything recovered from his person.”
Yuzuri Nana’s eyes lingered on the ring; a complicated look flashed across her face. It matched the one her mother still wore—their wedding bands.
“I understand.” She signed the hand-over sheet, tucked the four items away, and headed for the adjoining room.
Suddenly she paused.
“May I ask…” She turned back to the policewoman, voice low. “Why was he declared a wanted man, and how was he caught?”
The officer hesitated, then answered, “The reason is classified. But he was personally executed by an Oracle Envoy; we only cleaned up afterward.”
Oracle Envoy…
Lin Qiye’s eyes narrowed.
Yuzuri Nana pressed her lips together, nodded, and stepped into the next room. A few minutes later she emerged cradling an urn.
“Let’s go.”
They left the station with the meager mementos and the ashes. Outside, skyscrapers loomed and traffic streamed by. Yuzuri Nana looked lost.
“What’s wrong?” Lin Qiye asked.
“Nothing.” She hugged the urn. “In the end, I still don’t know the truth.”
Lin Qiye sighed; he had expected as much. Amemiya Haruki had told him that “Vengeful Ghost”-level fugitives were beyond police jurisdiction; Oracle Envoys handled them directly. Even if the station knew details, they wouldn’t disclose them.
By now Lin Qiye had pieced together the country’s structure. On the surface it had police, gangs, fugitives, ordinary citizens. Floating above it all was 【Pureland】, aloof—registering newborns and assigning IDs, yet otherwise uninvolved.
At first he’d assumed Pureland sided with the police, maintaining order. Now it looked more like a surveillance system suspended in the sky, indifferently monitoring everything. Only when something beyond mortal capacity appeared—like a “Vengeful Ghost” or worse—did it dispatch an Oracle Envoy.
The clearest proof: Pureland possessed every citizen’s ID, could track vitals and location through it, yet shared nothing with the police. Otherwise no fugitive could escape. Likewise, if Pureland wished to eradicate the yakuza, one Envoy could wipe out the Twin Earthlings and Black Kill Gang overnight—but it never did.
It seemed intent on preserving the façade of a normal society.
Lin Qiye still didn’t know Pureland’s true goal; information was too scarce.
“Maybe knowing nothing is a blessing,” he offered, checking the time. “Let’s grab lunch. This afternoon you can catch the Shinkansen home.”
Yuzuri Nana exhaled. “Anything you feel like? My treat.”
Her downcast eyes brightened slightly. “Dotonbori? I heard there’s a Kobe-beef place that’s amazing.”
Dotonbori—Osaka’s premier playground, once a district of grand theaters, now a pedestrian maze of blazing shops and stalls. She’d always wanted to visit; now that she was in Osaka, she wouldn’t miss it.
“Sure.” Lin Qiye, stranger to the city, had no objection.
They hailed a cab and headed for Dotonbori.
…
“Mr. Igari, they’ve left the station.”
In an inconspicuous black sedan parked outside, a man in a dark coat lifted a radio.
“How many?”
“Yuzuri Kurotetsu’s daughter and a young man.”
“ID on the male?”
“He signed in as ‘Asaba Nanaya.’ We’re running the serial now—results soon.”
A pause on the other end.
“Follow them.”
“Roger.”
As the taxi merged into traffic, the black sedan pulled out. Simultaneously, a dozen other cars scattered along the street ignited their engines and slipped into the flow, tailing the cab.
Inside the taxi, Lin Qiye—sitting in the back—felt something. His eyes narrowed.