Chapter 110 The Useless Psionic Power and a Nobleman’s Long-Forgotten Loneliness
Edited by: Kanaa-senpai
Morning sunlight fell upon the back garden, where a thin layer of snow lay settled. The two bodies were tucked under the eave of a small thatched roof, sleeping peacefully within the dark shadows of dead weeds. The air carried a faint, grassy smell, maybe from a cold, dark spot where pickles were once stored. Snow was packed beneath the coffins to stave off decay.
Ichimatsu drew near the coffin and softly touched the hand resting on the chest of the headless Kiri-san. It was an incredibly soft and tender gesture for a gentleman who usually talked down to women. While everyone else present was stunned, Ichimatsu remained perfectly composed.
”‘That was a time long ago, before I even came of age, I reckon,” he mused, his voice dry and distant.
His withered hand settled over the silent body’s. “That thing… what was it called now? It was a foreign item, ya see. A box with a tangled spring mechanism inside. Open it up, and a clown was meant to pop out from the end of the spring. A Jack-in-the-Box, they called it, I think?”. His tone was full of nostalgia. He spoke in a vague, somewhat wistful manner, as if recalling his family estate in a faraway hometown.
”But neither Kiri nor I, back then, knew what was actually attached to the end of that scheme.”
He carefully lowered the dead woman’s hand, placed it back on Kiri-san’s chest, and then drew his arm away from the coffin.
”Another foreign import stirred the same yearning in us.”
Now, his gnarled finger went to the neighboring coffin and brushed the powdered cheek of Kaede-san. Her burned face was buried beneath a spread of white lilies and chrysanthemums. How much money must it have cost, in this era, to source such out-of-season flowers?. I thought I didn’t much like him touching Kaede-san. It felt as if someone I held dear was being defiled. But his touch was far more respectful than I had imagined.
Ichimatsu began to speak slowly, stumbling a little as if tracing a thread of memory.
”Kaede… hmm, I can’t quite bring it back. There was a doll’s head in a barrel, and on cue, it would leap into the air. That, too, was a story passed on; I didn’t know much about it either. Kujukuri Town was still grappling with post-war poverty back then.”
He had the air of someone recalling a distant past. His gaze was fixed far away, his words uncertain, like he was reeling in a faint memory from a heavy mist.
”In those days, even a boy didn’t have any toys. Those foreign goods were a desire we couldn’t grasp. All we had were our friends. We ran around the village hills, not knowing there was any difference between a boy and a girl…”
He was lost in reminiscence. What in the world was he talking about? And how long ago was “those days”?
If Ichimatsu was a child, that would be four decades ago. A time of confusion following the World War when mystical objects were abused in conflict, setting humanity backward, and Kujukuri Town was unstable; even noble females struggled to find enough to eat. And the distinction Ichimatsu spoke of must be about childhood rearing. Because children are sexually immature, boys and girls often play together innocently. The relationship only changes later on.
”Natsume!”
”Yes, sir!” Natsume-san’s reply popped out like a cork, the moment her name was called.
”I gave you all your names myself, ya see. The other Imperial Guards, all of them, wanted tree names, named after a single pine tree (Ipponmatsu), so I went along.”
”Yes. Oh, I’ve never had a happier day!” she responded earnestly.
An Imperial Guard is allowed one renaming after entering service to their master. It’s often related to a shared memory or expresses a wish for what they might become. My Imperial Guard name… well, it’s not a good one.
Ichimatsu submerged Kaede-san’s face back into the sea of funeral flowers, then turned his gaze—a strange, uncharacteristic look—onto his own Imperial Guard.
”Natsume is a tree that only begins to bud in the summer. A careless one, that only truly begins to root after others have finished budding in the spring and been felled by maggots or disease. Always half a step behind, which is why it has no rivals and can let its branches sprawl as it pleases. I thought it was a fitting name for a timid woman who walks hidden behind a man’s back, and so I named her Natsume,” he declared, his gaze fixed.
Natsume-san listened intently to Ichimatsu’s story. She wasn’t avoiding his gaze anymore; her fear of him had softened.
”So, you alone remain, eh…”
Ichimatsu’s face, too, lacked its usual flash of anger. There was no intensity in his expression or tone. Instead, he seemed mournful, his deeply wrinkled face looking as ancient as a Buddha statue carved from old wood. We couldn’t immediately speak to Ichimatsu as he sank into his own private sadness.
After a moment, he raised his head and spoke.
”Natsume. Use your Psionic Power.”
”Uh… ah…”
”Did you not hear me?”
”Y-Yes, sir!”
Natsume-san scrambled to strip off her kimono, obeying instantly this time without hesitation. She took off everything above the waist, hooking the kimono entirely onto her sash.
…She’s ample. I know that’s not the point, but still.
Since her hair only reached her chin, there was nothing to hide her. The two lush curves were flawless, without a single blemish.
”Pardon me, then.”
Immediately, characters began to emerge on Natsume-san’s skin. Each character was about three centimeters tall, making them easy to read. It was the power of desire, without a seed or a scheme. The mystery of the Psionic Power drew the brushstrokes onto her skin. Her nickname, ‘Hogogami’ (Waste Paper), referred to scrap paper that had been written on, torn, or otherwise discarded. It was an epithet suggesting a useless Psionic Power whose only talent was to display writing on the body. Head-chopping for Kaede-san, the spring for Kiri-san, and waste paper for Natsume-san—the nicknames for Ichimatsu’s Exploration Squad were all insults.
”Well, hurry up and display a verse!”
”Yes… yes, sir. Uh, um, also…”
Prompted, an invisible brush danced across her attractive skin. A five-seven-five poem, like a Japanese tanka, was drawn continuously from her chest down to her stomach.
I read it.
*’A long-sworn oath to share white hair
My mind tangled and confused,
I no longer know what is right.’*
It was a strange Japanese poem. The last time she showed me, we were playing a game where I had to guess the kanji she displayed or the reading of a difficult fish name. Apparently, she could project whole sentences, not just single characters.
Ichimatsu made an astonished face.
”You swear eternal allegiance, but you say that as your hair turns white, tangled by the years, you’ve become lost and no longer know what to do! What a dreadful verse!”
”That was just because I rushed! I didn’t mean it!” Natsume-san wailed.
But Ichimatsu gave the next instruction without mercy.
”Next, display a poem that I know. Just the first half. You need not compose it yourself.”
”Which verse should I choose?”
”Anything will suffice.”
”Ch… Chihayaburu…”
”You fool! Do not recite it! Display it!”
”M-My deepest apologies!”
The characters emerged again on the pale, flustered Natsume-san’s chest.
*’Chihayaburu¹
In the ancient days when the gods held sway,
Even the Tatsuta River…’*
The poem stopped there.
The handwriting was graceful, as if painted by a true brush. The colors that emerged even brought forth a vision of vibrantly colored autumn leaves drifting down a clear stream—a mesmerizing penmanship. No matter how many times I saw it, it remained a mysterious phenomenon. It stuck to her skin like a tattoo, yet radiated a far more intense and beautiful color.
Ichimatsu recited the concluding half that followed:
”‘Has its waters dyed scarlet with color.’ Is that right?”
”…Yes. That is correct,” Natsume-san confirmed, looking bewildered.
Was her Psionic Power originally meant for displaying poetry? The accuracy and beauty were leagues beyond what she’d shown me before. Wait, I know this waka (tanka). It’s a famous one included in the Hyakunin Isshu (Hundred Poems by a Hundred Poets). This form of short verse exists in this world’s culture too.
I was genuinely surprised. Surprised by the true beauty of this Psionic Power when commanded by its master, and by Ichimatsu’s demeanor. He wasn’t the kind of man to converse calmly with a woman for this long. He always just yelled one-sidedly.
The similar exchange went on between the two of them several more times.
Characters appeared and disappeared, sometimes just an excerpt from a famous waka would surface. Ichimatsu would either guess the answer, or if he gave up, the correct answer would be displayed on her skin in flowing, lighthearted calligraphy. The text displayed came from Natsume-san’s knowledge, so she must be proficient in these verses. It was as if the two were playing a quiz game.
”How many decades has it been since I indulged in such sport with you?” Ichimatsu asked Natsume-san mid-game.
”I do not know, sir. I was only three or four when I was first chosen as Ichimatsu-sama’s playmate. So, since the last time you invited me…”
”So it was true. Natsume, for you, it was a game of Karuta (a Japanese card game)?”
”Eh? Um, yes. What exactly are you talking about?” Natsume-san was utterly confused. She had just spoken more with her master in this session than in the last ten years combined. She was struggling to process the event amidst the rush of joy and confusion.
”So they’ve been friends since they were children?”
It was then that I realized Ichimatsu and his Imperial Guards were all from the exact same generation. Usually, Imperial Guards are older than their masters, as their status is to guide and support. This was an anomaly even among the Imperial Guard corps.
”Hmm, to explain this, perhaps I should first ask the boy a question, so we can proceed in order,” Ichimatsu declared, satisfied with his exchange with Natsume-san, and abruptly turned the conversation to me.
”Do you know why men are so honest in spirit, yet so dedicated to mischief?”
He asked me such a sudden question.
Though he held back from using harsher words, what he really meant was: Why are all men so ill-natured, unable to control themselves, and obsessed with harassment?
…So he was self-aware.
I was startled by the unexpected question. He’s a man who has been battered by the bullying of a male-dominated society, and he himself is a literal embodiment of spite.
”I know I’m not one to talk, but maybe it’s because of a life without hardship? Every woman takes care of them, and because the gender ratio is so skewed, they think they’re born into a privileged class.” I offered my own opinion.
”The gender ratio is one to a thousand. In truth, men really are precious. I think it’s only natural to become arrogant in such an environment.”
I also believe the men in this world have terrible personalities. They’re obsessed with establishing dominance. But it would be difficult to remain a saint if you were thrown into the same environment. After all, if you don’t fight back, you’re just unilaterally victimized by your same sex. And the stress they endure is usually taken out on females.
Ichimatsu turned towards me and nodded.
”That may be a factor, but it is not the essence of the issue. Even among demons, they say you can find a Buddha.” Even among the nobility and those born into the Imperial family, there are naturally kind-hearted men—though whether their actions follow suit is another matter.
Ichimatsu, who had just asserted this, wore a complex expression.
”I have always pitied the parents who lost their children. A father whose boy is taken away is ultimately just a woman’s tool. That is what I thought for many years. But perhaps the truly pitiable ones are the children who grow up without knowing their parents.”
He spoke with a touch of loneliness. Ichimatsu had a son. That child was handed over according to the laws of Kazusa Province and now lives in some town.
”What conclusion do you reach? A boy has neither his true parents nor close friends. All that surrounds him are women who only obey his every whim.” Ichimatsu posed the question to me.
”How can such a boy grow up to have a decent character? He will not develop into a proper gentleman, I think. It is like giving a potted plant only rich soil and water but withholding the sun. I, too, was one such person. That is my view…”
He was being somewhat self-deprecating. The only people near a boy are his tutors, Imperial Guards, and maids, all acting as parent-figures. There are only humans with fabricated relationships. I thought he was going to ask if I was his child or something of that nature, but the color of the conversation was completely different.
What would it be like? For instance, if I had only had females around me since I was small who would shrink back and cater to my every whim the moment I became emotional, what kind of person would I have become? Because my situation is special compared to the average male, I answered honestly with a guess.
”I think it depends on the person… but yes, I think the seeds of a twisted personality are certainly present.”
At the stage of puberty, the existence of others with truly equal status essentially vanishes for a male.
”Boys are raised in separation from each other, and they inevitably part ways with the female children of the same generation they were once close to. Moreover, most boys grow up without their parents present. It’s an environment without friends who can offer mutual encouragement, or anyone they can wholeheartedly rely on.”
Boys are born to the populous commoner class and raised by noble families or state officials. In Japan, they can technically still meet their original parents, but in Western nations, it’s considered a mistake that a child who should have been born noble ended up among commoners, so they use the ridiculous logic of returning the child to its rightful owner and never allow them to meet again. The noble family who takes him in raises him as their true parent, and the existence of the original parents is erased in both name and fact.
The pressure on these women is immense: the duty and responsibility to manage and multiply the males, and the strain of enduring a capricious male’s temper, which they fear like a natural disaster.
It’s a terrible situation. However, the general populace lacks the know-how to raise boys, and there is the sad reality that boys will not live long in the natural environment. If they become the object of female desire when they hit puberty, the friction with their surroundings increases, leading to weakness and an early death.
A male belongs to the entire region. We are sincerely loved, prized, and respected with deference. Like something fragile and to be avoided. With all that, it’s no wonder their emotions become distorted. Even I, if I hadn’t had the experience of my previous life, and had been born with a body that felt a physiological revulsion toward females, would surely have become incomparably more twisted than I am now. That is the ordinary life experienced by males other than myself.
When I summarized the problem, choosing only the acceptable parts, Ichimatsu mostly agreed. He then gave one final caveat and began to recount his own past experience.
”I was a lonely child.”
He looked somehow smaller from behind. Coupled with the winter chill, his figure appeared profoundly sorrowful.
”Unable to bear the loneliness, I’d throw tantrums and often played with the girls my age. Looking back now, I think that was the happiest time of my life.”
”Ichimatsu-sama…”
That must have been before he developed his revulsion toward females.
Natsume-san couldn’t help but call out, unable to bear his sight. However, she could not bring herself to interrupt her master’s words.
”I thought that if I made those very children my Imperial Guards, my loneliness would be healed.” A new, deep wrinkle was etched into his face.
”But that happiness ended quickly.”
A huge sigh. It foreshadowed a deep disappointment, full of anguish.
”It was a frightening experience. Those of you I used to chat with affectionately began to look at me with lustful eyes. By the time you all reached a certain age, those former friends, whom I cherished so dearly, began to transform into repulsive beasts.”
”That’s not what we meant! None of us Imperial Guards ever intended to do anything horrible to Ichimatsu-sama!” Natsume-san shouted, unable to hold back any longer.
”But you cannot claim to be entirely innocent. It is the fate of a woman, of a human, to be unavoidable,” he pronounced, his tone no longer accusatory but now thoroughly saturated with negative emotion.
”No, the truly terrifying thing wasn’t you all. It was myself.” His voice was strained, almost a dash. There was obvious fear in it.
”As adulthood approached, something within me made me despise you. My contempt for women grew daily, and I even began to hate my childhood friends. It was my own transformation that was the most frightening thing.” That must have been an unknown experience, like feeling a monster growing inside oneself. The physical changes of puberty are involuntary.
”My conviction of woman-hatred was sealed during the Oath of Fealty Ritual. I began to feel betrayed after you all received your Psionic Powers.” Ichimatsu spoke rapidly, as if agitated.
”Psionic Power exposes a person’s true feelings. Loyalty is only on the surface. I thought the truth revealed by the Psionic Power was that you only respected me outwardly, but inwardly, you saw men merely as an outlet for desire, an appeal to offer up my body like a useless, inept doll.” For a man who had been constantly mocked for his Psionic Power, his shock at the time must have been enormous.
His Exploration Squad once had five members, and all of them drew ‘dud’ Psionic Powers. It’s a fact that bad emotions can manifest in a Psionic Power. The ability might involve self-harm, or emerge with an ugly appearance born of malice, or even be a vengeful Psionic Power that brings misfortune to those around it.
Listening to this, Natsume-san looked pained. Their Psionic Power had wounded their master—an irreparable blunder. If even one of them had a ‘useful’ Psionic Power, they could have proven their sincerity to Ichimatsu. But they only ever drew blanks. It was a cruel fate for both the master and his Imperial Guards.
”So I feared, I yelled, and I drove women away. I have been running away. Until this very age.”
With that, Ichimatsu concluded his story.
We could say nothing. Natsume-san and her fellow Imperial Guards couldn’t bring themselves to speak to him. The disappointment felt was too deep, too profound to be soothed by simple comfort. That was the reason for Ichimatsu’s misogyny. He had no support system anywhere. Certainly, in my previous life, there were women with malefear syndrome. Not lesbians, but simply finding it painful to be around men and even to go outside. Those women were comforted by family and friends of the same sex. But in this world, such people don’t exist. After being betrayed by the opposite sex, there is no one left to lean on.
”I have only just now come to know myself,” his weary voice finally uttered the last, deepest truth.
He had walked for decades, unaware he was burdened by a heavy cargo, only understanding what was on his back after breaking his leg. It was the long-delayed soliloquy of a man who had, after decades, finally found his own liberation.
”I simply wished for friends. And for toys we could play with together.”
Ichimatsu spoke, gazing at nothing in particular. The shadow of deep fatigue fell across his eyes.
”That was the sole wish I made through the Psionic Power. What folly. I failed to realize it until now.”
And his face gradually became colored with regret. The life force was draining from his eyes.
”But you were always trying to grant my wish, weren’t you?”
With that, Ichimatsu fell silent. His frail body struggled to remain upright, and he clutched the porch pillar with both hands for support. Natsume-san, finally, spoke up after his confession.
”I have never forgotten the day you took me in, Ichimatsu-sama.”
Her voice grew louder as she failed to hold back her tears.
”I sincerely tried to be useful to Ichimatsu-sama. I wholeheartedly wanted to grant your wishes! I still do! I will always be Your Lordship’s friend!” Natsume-san pleaded desperately, clinging to him.
”I truly tried to be useful. I’m not lying.”
Even if Kaede-san and the others’ Psionic Powers were useless, they all shared a certain playful charm. They hurt no one, nor were they the kind of Psionic Power that harmed the user. There was none of the destructive atmosphere characteristic of Psionic Power users with extremely bad master-servant relationships.
How should I describe it? Come to think of it, the Psionic Powers granted to Ichimatsu all seemed like children’s toys.
Ichimatsu accepted her words without malice.
”I believe you. That is why the Psionic Power did not grant you something superficially useful, but the truth—what I truly needed.” He glanced at me. And let slip a single sentence.
”Not something to be praised by some stranger in society. All of your Psionic Powers were the foreign goods I once longed for.” There was no jealousy toward me whatsoever. Even if the whole town coveted the Psionic Power I could provide, Ichimatsu didn’t desire mine.
I finally understood. The important thing to him was not a useful Imperial Guard he could brag about to other men in social etiquette circles. Psionic Power draws out the deepest, genuine desires of the heart. The real wish, the one you don’t even realize yourself. And he had finally realized it about himself.
”My Imperial Guards were granting my wish from the very start. They had been doing so all along. I just didn’t realize it. I should have noticed much sooner…”
”Ichimatsu-sama!” His knees finally buckled, and he nearly collapsed. He pushed away the Imperial Guards who rushed to his side and managed to steady himself, crushed by the weight of his regret.
Something Shigerou once told me came to mind. The true worth of a Psionic Power isn’t its strength or its usefulness to society. It is how much value it holds for its master.
And Ichimatsu, somehow, managed to utter the words he clearly felt he desperately needed to say.
”Thank you for supporting this old, withered tree. I was never betrayed. Your loyalty and your Psionic Power were the best things for me.” He paused to catch his breath before continuing. “Truly, it was a righteous duty.”
His strength-drained body slumped down. The cold of this semi-outdoor spot was like a poison to his fragile body. Natsume-san immediately rushed up to him. But she suddenly froze, as if paralyzed, unable to move past a certain point. Ichimatsu, the misogynist, severely disliked being touched. The fear of rejection was deeply ingrained in her body.
But Ichimatsu easily broke that barrier.
”…May I touch you?”
”O-Of course! Oh, please! Please, stay strong!”
He offered the question himself, and then grabbed her shoulder. Natsume-san hastily wrapped her upper body around him to support him.
”Your person is so cold, w-what should we do?”
”You are warm.”
The two embraced. Ichimatsu, who had hated females so much, was accepting the bare-skinned Natsume-san without any revulsion.
The other Imperial Guards, too, could no longer restrain themselves and gathered around him.
”Ichimatsu-sama, I will fetch your cane immediately. Touching a woman will worsen Your person’s condition!”
”You all, too. What is it? Come here. Do you mean to let your master fall onto the ground? Please, be my support.” They were all mature females, including chief roles, attendants, and bodyguards. They looked like cultured ladies, and white hair, unrelated to Psionic Power, was mixed into their own. The fear gradually vanished, and they all, uniformly, were crying and embracing him gently.
I… I didn’t know what to say. Even in the face of this sight, Kaede-san and the others wouldn’t be coming back. It was too late. The dead cannot return to life. There was a huge miscommunication and a gulf of deep misunderstanding that had been allowed to widen without ever being bridged.
Natsume-san’s voice was shaking. She looked toward the coffin holding her friend.
”Kiri always used to say that her Psionic Power was a dud, and that we deserved to die because we couldn’t meet expectations.”
”I am sorry. It is my fault. Thinking of the loyalty that granted me their fingers, I could not bear to leave them behind, so I tried to make you all join my foolish suicide.”
”No. It would have been much harder for us to endure if we hadn’t been able to see Ichimatsu-sama in his final moments.” Natsume-san, with her characteristic kindness, did not blame Ichimatsu. But her voice was a mix of grief and joy. Too much had already been lost.
”But I wish Kiri-chan could have heard this, too.”
”It is all my responsibility. It is far too late.”
”That’s not it. Kiri-chan and Kaede-chan, and Sakura-chan and Tsubaki-san, too. They always loved Ichimatsu-sama. That’s why they were suffering.”
Shining drops fell from Natsume-san’s cheeks. Her tears were decades in the making, and showed no sign of stopping.
”But Ichimatsu-sama wasn’t bad, and nobody was bad, and we just didn’t know what to do!”
”It was my own immaturity. Seeing that boy play innocently with you all made me realize. It made me remember. I was afraid of losing you as my friends. I had forgotten that for such a long time.” His tone was gentle, comforting the crying Natsume-san. Ichimatsu, who had so strongly distanced himself from his Imperial Guards, no longer rejected her.
”Natsume, please, talk to me like you did when we were children.”
”Mhm, it’s okay. We’ll be together forever now.”
And so, they slowly shared their body heat. Like small animals huddling together for warmth.
Kaede-san’s Psionic Power, which detached her head. It was only capable of popping it off like a toy. A meaningless Psionic Power made worse by the master-servant rift. But in truth, he had been lonely because he’d lost his childhood playmates. He wanted the toys he couldn’t have bought.
So, what this master and his Guards needed was for the master to trust his Guards, and for the Guards to sense his loneliness and playfully entertain him. The reason the Imperial Guards also failed to grasp the truth was likely because the items were tied to Ichimatsu’s intensely personal memories, and their own conviction that they had drawn ‘dud’ Psionic Powers. Both sides were too serious.
”It is not too late, sir. Please say those words to the two of them now.”
”Ah, yes. I must do that for their sake. It is only right.”
”Please do not ever speak of suicide again, Your Lordship.”
”I won’t. I promise.”
”Now, take my hand…”
Supported by the attendant female, he addressed the coffins without the need for his cane.
”You served me well. Truly, for a long time, I neglected you and never looked back. Kiri, Kaede. I will never forget your loyalty. Rest well for now. And I apologize, but you will have to wait for me a little longer.”
When he conveyed that he had regained his will to live, the women did not stop crying for a long time.
Only a master can truly save their Imperial Guard. Though feelings never reach the deceased, I hoped those words had somehow reached the two of them. It was probably just my imagination, but I thought the corpses wrapped in funerary flowers smiled just a little.
—
Summary:
In thischapter, the aging nobleman Ichimatsu finally confronts the tragic source of his lifelong misogyny and the meaning behind the ‘useless’ Psionic Powers of his dead Imperial Guards. Standing over the coffins, his raw grief and profound loneliness are exposed, revealing that the powers—the Jack-in-the-Box and the detached head—were not duds but materialized versions of the foreign toys he desperately wanted as an isolated, poor child.
His attendant, Natsume, uses her ‘Waste Paper’ power to display poetry, prompting a breakthrough that allows Ichimatsu to confess his fear of his friends becoming lustful women and his own resulting self-hatred. The chapter culminates in a powerful, cathartic embrace, ending the decades-long misunderstanding and showing that the women’s loyalty was always genuine, paving the way for Ichimatsu’s emotional redemption and will to live.
It’s a tearful scene of tragic regret and an exploration of how childhood trauma twists adult lives in this strange, gender-skewed world.
—
T/L:
¹ This poem, “Chihayaburu Kamiyo mo kikazu Tatsutagawa,” is a famous classical waka (tanka) from the Hyakunin Isshu collection by Ariwara no Narihira. The translation is a classic line, and the last part is “Kara kurenai ni mizu kukuru to wa.” It’s basically about the Tatsuta River having its waters dyed scarlet by the autumn leaves, like a sacred thing (chihayaburu) even the gods didn’t know about. It’s definitely a high-culture reference Natsume would know, but also one Ichimatsu’s noble upbringing would have covered. It’s a perfect way to show her knowledge and his. ↩
Notes:
• Ichimatsu – A high-ranking figure associated with the Imperial Guard, mentioned as having spineless guards around him, with no further details provided.
• Kiri – A female sniper and member of Kaede-san’s team, white-haired with sleepy eyes, wielding a disguised sniper rifle, known for her quick hands and slow speech, often joking in dire situations.
• Kaede – A female psionic explorer known as Necksplitter, is a veteran assassin and messenger of Lord Ichimatsu. Her appearance is both young and old, with gray hair streaked through black and vibrant, unlined skin. She is graceful yet carries the fatigue of a long life in war, resembling an old hunting dog. Her psionic ability is mysterious and potentially dangerous.
• Natsume – A female companion and younger sister of Kaede-san, cared for by Kaede-san during their journey through the dangerous valley, at risk of infection from the parasitic creatures.
• Psionic Power – Mental energy concept in Chapter 35’s lecture. Trash-san teaches it to strengthen the protagonist’s mind after dungeon ordeals.
• Kazusa Province – A region cited in Chapter 29 dungeon records defining unreturnable dungeons. Serves as a geographic and academic reference for explorers.
• Shigerou – A middle-aged man from the Katsuraura family; talkative, clueless about the war, enjoys a comfortable life.
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Edited by Kanaa-senpai.
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