Chapter 49: It’s No Use. I’ve Taken Another Step Away from Normalcy.
And so, exactly as I had planned from the beginning, the death-game-style “Treasure Hunt” that dragged both the Long-Armed-and-Long-Legged crowd and every child in the facility into its web came to a triumphant close.
A turbulent ending?
Nothing of the sort.
How could there possibly be unforeseen complications in an event overseen from start to finish by none other than Kirishiro Gouto?
Any trouble capable of disrupting the flow of the event had already been accounted for. Every problem had been neatly categorized under “within expected parameters.”
No matter the era.
No matter how civilized people become.
No matter how much social etiquette and cooperation humanity learns.
The fundamental forces that move human beings remain the same:
The carrot and the stick.
If the “confiscation of the letters” served as the stick that compelled the children to participate, then naturally there also needed to be a carrot—a reward that would make participation worthwhile.
Originally, the Long-Armed-and-Long-Legged sponsors had spent time listening to the children’s wishes and preparing presents for this very day. All I had done was release those gifts little by little, carefully guiding the children toward the conclusion that joining the event was in their best interest.
The brand-new soccer ball desired by the slightly cocky neighborhood ringleader.
The collection of children’s books longed for by a shy, reserved girl.
The video game intended for the bespectacled boy who always found himself unable to keep up with the conversations at school.
One by one, each reward was dangled carefully before its intended recipient as a prize for solving a challenge.
Once the children started leaning eagerly into the game, victory was assured.
Humans are like that.
No matter how troublesome a task may seem, once they press down on the accelerator and start moving, they rarely stop midway.
After that, all that remained was skillfully directing Aoba-senpai and the facility staff while maintaining the schedule.
The event even included a lunch break midway through, during which the Long-Armed-and-Long-Legged group was moved to a different area.
And finally, the mysterious Monster X made his dramatic exit.
The end.
Or rather, it became the end.
Children are human beings too.
No—if anything, because they are children, their desires are often easier to understand than those of adults.
Unlike adults, who bind themselves with titles, reputations, social obligations, and countless other invisible chains, children are refreshingly straightforward.
In terms of ease of handling, they might actually surpass adults.
Then again, adults have their own patterns and weaknesses that emerge precisely because they are constrained by those responsibilities.
Perhaps neither is truly easier than the other.
Both have their advantages and disadvantages.
“Ahhh! Thank you so much, Kirishiro-kun!”
The facility director beamed.
“When we first met, I honestly thought, ‘Has some ridiculously over-motivated university student who’s completely lost touch with reality shown up?’ But now that it’s over, I can confidently say leaving everything to you was the right choice!”
“Of course it was.”
I accepted the praise without a trace of modesty, allowing confidence to show plainly on my face.
As my gaze drifted toward the window, I spotted the children outside in the courtyard.
The children and the Long-Armed-and-Long-Legged sponsors were laughing together, playing some kind of game.
The sight looked strangely surreal.
On one side were children forced by unfortunate family circumstances to live apart from their families.
On the other were corporate executives—people recognized by society as successful leaders, individuals commanding large organizations and countless subordinates.
And yet there they were.
Laughing together beneath the summer sky as though such differences had never existed.
Viewed from afar, it felt almost dreamlike.
With this, the facility would probably be secure for quite some time.
I gave another satisfied nod before speaking to Director Shiroza.
“At the very least, the sponsors must be extremely pleased with how things turned out. I doubt you’ll have to worry about future donations for a while. That was the entire purpose of this event, after all.”
“More importantly than that,” the director replied immediately, “the best part was being able to give the children a wonderful day!”
“…I see.”
The words caught me off guard.
I found myself studying Director Shiroza’s expression.
There was no deception there.
No pretension.
No calculated performance.
The director genuinely believed that the children’s smiles held greater value than pleasing wealthy sponsors.
I see.
So that kind of perspective exists too.
In that case…
No.
My actions hadn’t been wrong.
Even if I had known that beforehand, I doubt the outcome would have changed.
The children were smiling.
The sponsors were satisfied.
The result remained the same.
“…You’re right,” I admitted. “In the end, the children’s smiles are what matter most.”
“Exactly!” the director laughed. “That’s how all our benefactors started too!”
I quietly adjusted my internal character settings.
Next time, I wouldn’t make the same mistake.
In this facility, it was better to lean toward goodwill than profit.
No.
That wasn’t quite right either.
I’d slipped back into my old mindset because I’d been managing everything myself.
A perfectly ordinary university student wouldn’t have needed any calculations in the first place.
Simple kindness would have been enough.
I had almost ruined the ordinary-person persona I’d worked so hard to build.
That had been close.
“Well then, Aoba-senpai and I will be taking our leave now. As for the equipment—”
“We’ll deliver it back to the university later. Don’t worry.”
“That helps a lot. Thank you. Excuse us.”
Leaving the transportation of the equipment to the staff, I decided to depart ahead of everyone else.
After all, it wasn’t ideal for the villainous Monster X—the mastermind behind the event—to linger around the facility afterward.
Or so I thought.
“Oh? Heading home already, Gouto-kun? Let’s go together!”
To my surprise, Aoba-senpai—the very subordinate who had supposedly been brainwashed into serving Monster X—was casually playing with the children as though nothing had happened.
He looked like the stereotypical delinquent.
Slightly rough around the edges.
A little irresponsible.
Yet inexplicably kind to children.
“Ehh? You’re leaving already?”
“Come play some more!”
The children voiced their dissatisfaction openly the moment they heard Aoba-senpai was leaving.
“Yeah, yeah, next time,” he replied with the ease of someone long accustomed to such interactions.
Meanwhile, the only comments directed at me came from younger children saying things like:
“Please don’t get cursed again, okay?”
And they sounded genuinely worried.
“Do you like kids?” I asked as we walked back together.
“Hm? I don’t dislike them. This much is normal, isn’t it?”
“I see. Normal, huh.”
His answer came so naturally that it left me momentarily thoughtful.
This much is normal.
Could I do the same?
A memory surfaced unexpectedly.
The image of myself when my younger brother and sister had still been small.
If I really tried…
Perhaps I could.
It wasn’t impossible.
“And so, thanks to that, the job ended successfully and I’ve secured this month’s budget of one hundred thousand yen.”
Monday arrived, and the university campus returned to its usual rhythm.
Today, Taketsuru and I were eating together in the cafeteria.
As usual, I sat before a three-hundred-yen curry while reporting on my recent part-time work.
July was already approaching.
Around us, students hurried through the chaos of the end of the semester, drowning in final reports and exam preparation.
Lately, more professors seemed to favor final examinations.
Apparently, the rise of generative AI had created a growing problem: students submitting reports they barely understood themselves.
The professors complained that exams were troublesome, but many had nevertheless shifted their grading systems toward them.
As for me, however, my biggest concern had been my part-time job rather than any exam.
“You know, I understand I don’t really have the right to complain,” Taketsuru said, “but let me complain anyway.”
“What is it?”
“The fact that you earned more in one day than I make from working four shifts a week really pisses me off.”
“That’s capitalism.”
A sad truth.
Capitalism was never about equality.
At its core, it resembled a food chain where money determined strength.
Those who possessed money employed those who did not, and through that process acquired even more money.
Taketsuru worked diligently as one member of a larger system, supporting others and earning wages.
Meanwhile, I took control of an entire workplace and functioned as the event’s chief organizer.
Naturally, the rewards differed.
Those who stand above and those who stand alongside cannot expect identical compensation.
Though, to be fair, I wasn’t exactly a dominant predator myself.
This time I had merely received a predetermined payment from people higher up the chain.
At best, I was a middle-level predator.
Not the apex.
“I’m financially secure for this month,” I said, “but thinking about the future still presents problems.”
“In what sense?”
“If I want to continue coordinating with the Event Operations Department and undertake larger projects, money will be necessary. Hunting down one-off jobs with no long-term responsibility every time isn’t particularly efficient.”
“Maybe you should question the premise of wanting to coordinate with the Event Operations Department on large-scale projects in the first place, Mister Self-Proclaimed Ordinary College Student.”
Taketsuru’s comment struck me like a bolt of lightning.
“…I see. You’re right. That was a blind spot.”
“Oh? Have you finally taken a step toward becoming normal?”
“Making proposals every time isn’t normal. Ideally, I should simply live an ordinary life. In other words, you’re saying the Event Operations Department should improve itself until it can naturally organize perfectly ordinary events without any intervention from me?”
“Nope. You just took another step away from normal.”
Apparently, in Taketsuru’s evaluation, my score had returned neatly to zero.
Still, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
Even if I did nothing, people like Taketsuru, Kuwajima, Meiko, and Inugashi existed in this world.
There were countless factors capable of making my life eventful without my active participation.
Perhaps I should spend some time living quietly.
Peacefully.
Like an ordinary university student.
“Well, let’s put the event talk aside for now. The immediate issue is something else.”
“You mean the list Kuwajima made?”
“Exactly.”
For once, Taketsuru and I were in complete agreement.
The issue was the proposal Kuwajima had made regarding the activities of the Normalcy Appreciation Society.
According to her:
“As ordinary university students, these are the things we should do during summer vacation.”
The resulting list was packed with summer activities.
Mountain climbing.
A test of courage.
Fireworks festivals.
Beach trips.
Swimming pools.
Camping.
Stargazing.
And much more.
As a perfectly ordinary university student, I had seen such summer schedules countless times before.
Naturally, experiencing everything on that list would require far more vacation time than any human possessed.
Even selecting only some of them would be difficult.
“Summer is expensive,” I said. “Are you prepared, Taketsuru?”
“I’ve been saving money for dates with Sumire-neesan, though.”
“Then she can just come along with us.”
“Huh. That’s actually an option. But if you’re there too…”
“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
What possible inconvenience could my presence create?
Well, whatever.
The more immediate issue was budget.
While my living expenses for the month were secured, paying equipment rental fees would leave little room for extravagance.
More importantly, when I looked at Kuwajima’s plans, my hallucinations had shown me something deeply unsettling.
──────
“Summer Plans”
Confirmed:
“Beach Trip”
“Test of Courage”
Estimated Budget:
50,000 yen and up
Holy Sword:
Recommended
──────
The hallucinations had begun predicting future events.
Not only that, they were estimating budgets and even offering opinions regarding whether a holy sword would be useful.
The schedule and budget were one thing.
But why was a holy sword entering the discussion?
Just what kind of ordinary summer awaited us?
Honestly.
“And that’s why I’m planning to attend an interview for this Light Job. It’ll also help establish potential connections for the future.”
Taketsuru stared at me.
“Hey… are you sure that’s okay? Won’t the interviewer end up traumatized?”
“Why are you worried about the interviewer’s mental health?”
No matter what might be lurking behind the scenes, my intention was to attend the interview normally.
What happened afterward, however…
That was another matter entirely.
Thinking that, I checked the latest notification on my phone.
A report had arrived from Meiko regarding her investigation into Aoba-senpai.
I sent back a brief message of thanks, nodded to myself, and began preparing for the interview that awaited me.