Silent Verdict

After the commotion in the dining room died down, Kazama In did not join Sudo and the others for a meal in the VIP dining room. Using the excuse that he needed some fresh air, he quietly left the main dining area. Avoiding the ubiquitous surveillance cameras, he slipped like a ghost into the shadows, entering a blind spot at the end of a cargo passage, piled high with cleaning supplies and completely free of cameras.

A moment later, a figure emerged from the blind spot.

He wore the same white shirt, black vest and trousers, and black bow tie as the other waiters. But his conspicuous silver-white and dark-red hair had been cleverly hidden beneath the standard waiter's cap. The brim was pulled low, concealing most of his face and leaving only his hard, angular jaw visible. He hunched slightly, suppressing every trace of the sharp presence that belonged to "The Arbiter." His steps had grown steady and a little heavy, transforming him completely into an ordinary, perhaps somewhat tired, lower-level waiter.

Kazama In (disguised) had a clear destination. He did not head for any service area. Relying on his memory of the cruise ship's layout—he had already hacked into the system and obtained its blueprints—he made his way deeper into the crew's work area. Before a machinery room marked "Equipment Maintenance. No Unauthorized Entry," he glanced around, then quickly swiped a forged electronic key card across the access reader.

A soft beep sounded, and the lock clicked open. He slipped inside and shut the door behind him.

The machinery room was dimly lit, illuminated only by the faint glow of the server lights. Uncle Kurosawa sat before an active surveillance terminal, its screen divided into a dense grid of live feeds from every part of the cruise ship. He, too, had taken off his manager's suit and changed into dark work clothes that allowed him to move freely. He had also removed his usually worn, rimless glasses, revealing eyes as deep as an ancient well. Now, they glinted with the cold, keen light of an apex predator.

"Quick work, kid," Kurosawa said in a low voice without turning around.

Kazama In walked over to him, took off his cap, and tossed it onto a nearby server cabinet. His gaze swept across the surveillance screens. "What's the situation?"

"Not good." Kurosawa's fingers flew across the keyboard, bringing up an encrypted communication log. "'Albatross'"—the organization's internal communications codename—"just sent the latest intel. At least three 'cleaners' have confirmed they're aboard, all belonging to the Blood Crow team. That team is... notorious. They have no scruples and work only for whoever pays the most. Their methods are exceptionally brutal." His voice simmered with suppressed anger. "One of them, codenamed 'Painted Skin,' is the sadist mentioned in the intel. He's obsessed with torture and murder, especially tormenting boys and girls around your age. He enjoys their fear and pain. He's skilled at disguises and an expert in plastic surgery and sex reassignment surgery, able to play any role flawlessly."

Kurosawa paused, his expression grave as he looked at Kazama In. "The boss sent me because the Blood Crow team took a job from a Middle Eastern warlord last time. They massacred a village belonging to the opposition and didn't even spare the babies. The boss was furious and decided to use the Cleanup Fund—the money voluntarily donated by members to deal with scum like them—and sent me to take care of them. As for why he didn't call you..." A rare, helpless smile crossed Kurosawa's face. "The boss said you've 'gone straight' and are playing student games now. He didn't want to bother you with this dirty work. He thinks of you as his own son and doesn't want you getting your hands bloody again."

Kazama In was silent for several seconds. No emotion showed in his ink-black eyes. "...Thank the boss for me." Then his tone turned icy. "But the Blood Crow's targets could include me, or other valuable targets aboard the ship. I can't stay out of it. Especially with Painted Skin. If he gets to the island, he'll be even more trouble. The terrain there is complicated, which will make it easier for him to strike."

Seeing Kazama In's unwavering gaze, Kurosawa sighed, then grinned, baring his white teeth. "I knew you couldn't sit still! Fine! Then we'll team up again! Same rules?"

"Same rules." Kazama In nodded. Their rules meant sharing intel, working together, and eliminating their targets without leaving loose ends.

The two stopped talking and immediately got down to work. Kazama In took a custom tablet from his backpack, disguised as a cleaning-supplies bag, and quickly connected to a backup network node in the machinery room. Kurosawa used his manager's credentials to access a more detailed database of passengers and crew.

Both computer screens lit up, streams of data scrolling down like waterfalls.

"Check all boarding records and surveillance footage for suspicious targets whose behavior is abnormal or whose registration details don't quite match." Kazama In's fingers flew across his tablet as surveillance footage flashed back at high speed, enlarged, and analyzed for facial features and gait.

"Focus on service staff, especially those who can frequently interact with passengers and have their own workspace," Kurosawa added, rapidly filtering through crew records on his screen. "Painted Skin likes to hide close to his victims and savor the feeling of control."

Time passed, and the only sounds in the machinery room were the tapping of keys and the low hum of the server fans.

Suddenly, Kazama In's tablet chimed softly. A surveillance feed from the spa center froze and enlarged on the screen. It showed a tall "female therapist" in a uniform and mask giving an oil massage to a female customer. The movements looked standard and professional, but Kazama In's keen eyes caught several important details:

1. Hands: The "female therapist's" finger joints were a little too thick. The fingertips bore faint calluses unlike the texture of women's skin, formed from regularly handling weapons or tools. The nails were cut unusually short and evenly, making it easier to move.

2. Adam's apple: Although the high collar of the therapist's uniform and a deliberately lowered head concealed it, the faint outline of a raised Adam's apple could still be seen from a certain angle.

3. Gait: In the few steps taken out of camera range toward the storage room, the figure moved with steady, powerful strides. The wide steps had a distinctly masculine quality.

4. Eyes: While serving the customer with head lowered, the figure occasionally glanced up. In those moments, the eyes above the mask showed not a service worker's warmth, but a fleeting, cold scrutiny, like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Bingo," Kazama In murmured, sharing the footage with Kurosawa. "Spa center, therapist number seven, 'Lisa.' Registered as a woman, but... it's fake."

Kurosawa quickly pulled up Lisa's hiring records, comparing them with the footage and Kazama In's analysis. His expression turned cold. "That's him! Painted Skin! Good eye, kid!"

With the target identified, there was no time to waste. The two quickly made a plan.

"The spa center has heavy surveillance, and there are customers around. We can't make a scene," Kazama In said calmly. "He's just finished a session. According to the schedule, his next appointment is in half an hour. He'll have about fifteen minutes to rest and get ready. He'll go back to the staff lounge or the storage room."

"The lounge is crowded and full of eyes. The storage room is more likely," Kurosawa said with a nod. "I'll use my position as manager to clear out anyone nearby who could get in the way, under the pretext of an 'equipment safety inspection.' You 'invite' him to come with us 'quietly.'"

"Got it."

Kazama In put his waiter's cap back on and lowered the brim. Kurosawa straightened his work clothes and resumed his stern manager's expression. Like two silent shadows, they left the machinery room.

The spa center was filled with the fragrance of essential oils and soothing music. Holding a clipboard, Kurosawa put on a stern face and easily sent away the two attendants chatting outside the lounge, claiming he was making a manager's inspection. He also told the therapists to stay away from the storage room for the time being, saying there was "pipe maintenance" underway.

Kazama In, looking like an ordinary waiter bringing fresh towels, pushed a cleaning cart toward the staff storage room at the end of the hallway. His keen ears picked up the faint sound of someone moving things inside.

He stopped at the door without knocking. From the lower shelf of the cleaning cart, he took out a special damp towel soaked in a powerful nerve agent. It looked no different from an ordinary disinfecting towel. At the same time, his other hand quietly gripped the pen-sized stun device hidden in his sleeve.

"Knock, knock." He tapped the door twice with his knuckles, his voice neither loud nor soft.

"Who is it?" came a deliberately affected, alluring female voice from inside, tinged with irritation at the interruption.

"Your manager asked me to bring fresh essential oils and disinfecting towels," Kazama In replied evenly.

There was a second of silence from inside, as though the person were assessing the situation. Then the lock clicked softly, and the door opened a crack.

The instant the door opened—

Kazama In moved!

He was as fast as lightning! Without giving his opponent any time to react, he shoved the door all the way open with his left hand! With his right, he thrust the anesthetic-soaked towel at the person behind it, covering their mouth and nose with the precision of a striking snake!

Lisa (Painted Skin) reacted quickly too! The moment the door swung open, a vicious glint appeared in his eyes and his disguise fell away! He leaned back as one hand instinctively reached for his lower back, where he had apparently hidden a weapon!

But Kazama In was too fast, and his prediction was spot on! The pungent towel instantly covered Lisa's mouth and nose! Painted Skin managed only a muffled grunt before a powerful dizziness swept over him like a rising tide! His hand had just touched the cold metal at his lower back when his strength gave out, and he crumpled to the floor.

As he fell, a stun device slipped silently from Kazama In's sleeve and struck him precisely on the side of the neck!

"Bzzzt—!" A faint crackle of electricity sounded.

Painted Skin's body jerked violently once, then he lost consciousness completely and collapsed like a heap of mud. The whole thing took no more than three seconds, without a single loud sound.

Kazama In quickly dragged him into the storage room and shut the door. Kurosawa appeared at the entrance like a ghost and slipped inside.

Looking down at the unconscious Painted Skin, Kurosawa crouched and expertly searched him for hidden weapons—a poisoned dagger and several poisoned needles—as well as communications equipment. Then he took out a specially made restraint bag.

"Nicely done, kid," Kurosawa praised him as he deftly stuffed Painted Skin into the bag and zipped it up, leaving only a small hole for breathing.

"I'll take care of the rest. I'll make sure he's 'taken care of' properly and can never hurt anyone again." Kurosawa's voice was icy. "As for any other Blood Crow members who might be hiding on the island...be careful, kid. Those lunatics are not easy to deal with."

Kazama In nodded as Kurosawa slung Painted Skin over his shoulder as easily as a sack and melted back into the shadows, disappearing at the end of the hallway. Kazama In straightened his waiter's uniform, pushed the cleaning cart, and calmly left the spa area. It was as if the silent judgment that had just taken place in the luxurious spa center's storage room had never happened.

The sea breeze remained gentle, and the cruise ship continued cutting through the waves beneath the starlight. But Kazama In knew the calm surface hid dangers that had yet to pass. The island's shadows awaited their arrival. And he would protect this brief, hard-won "ordinary life" in the name of The Arbiter.