[From the moment you set foot on this continent on the other side of the earth to the broad road leading straight to the heart of power in the White House, the entire journey went almost unbelievably smoothly.]
[Sitting in the back of the smoothly moving luxury sedan, you watched Washington's streets rush backward outside the window. You had originally been working out how to slip silently into this heavily guarded fortress with your cursed technique if you encountered a defensive line.]
[But now it seemed that Kenjaku, that thousand-year-old monster, had long since worked world affairs and the rulers of other nations into her unfathomable game of chess, even secretly maintaining certain hidden connections that reached the very top.]
[As for when those tangled political relationships had first been established, and under which identities? You had no way of knowing.]
[After all, the long years she had lived through, that patience with which she lurked like a venomous snake in history's shadows, ran far deeper than all the simulation time you had experienced combined.]
[But none of that mattered to you.]
[You leaned back against the leather seat and rested with your eyes closed, entirely uninterested in investigating her nauseating schemes.]
[Your goal was clear: to give the coming storm enough fuel.]
[Soon, led by several tense-faced agents, your ghostlike figures appeared openly in the White House's most powerful room, the Oval Office.]
[The atmosphere in the spacious room was so oppressive it felt thick enough to wring water from.]
[Several people were already sitting stiffly in the advisers' seats: Cyrus Vale, deputy secretary for energy and environmental affairs, whose exquisite rimless lenses concealed eyes that were forever frantically calculating, steeped in cold pragmatism; Lieutenant General Gary K. Johnson of the Army, commander of Joint Special Operations Command, whose