I continue to slide my finger across the screen; the more I read, the more my tail puffs up in frustration. This "Miraculous Dharma" group is essentially a spiritual garbage dump clumsily disguised with gaudy lotus images and outdated calligraphy fonts.

  The content inside reeks of genuine "boomer" energy.

  A series of posts teach breathing meditation with sensational headlines like: "Just inhale and exhale correctly, and end-stage cancer will dissolve on its own." Or sermons on behavioral ethics so fake they induce nausea. But what makes my stomach churn the most is the way they distort the concept of Karma.

  "Why are you beaten by your husband? Because in a past life you sowed evil karma; in this life, you must happily repay the debt."

  "Why are you poor? Because your mind is not bright enough; do not blame society."

  "Disgusting."

  This is blatant sophistry for the strong and dumping guilt onto the victim's head. It is as if some madman sneaked into The Compassion Collective's library, tore out a few classic pages, mixed them with trashy self-help books, and threw them into a blender. If the Bodhisattvas at The Compassion Collective read these lines, they would surely be angry enough to break their vow of non-violence and come down here to slap each administrator.

  I try to suppress my nausea to focus on the main target: Ogawa.

  This old engineer is a professional "lurker." Throughout three months of participation, he never posted any articles, never liked, never shared.

  However, the activity history records a single interaction.

  It is a comment thread below a post by a member with the nickname Rakka (Fallen Flower).

  This post was made at 2 AM, heavily colored with the despair of someone who has hit rock bottom.

  [Rakka]: "I am sick of this fake world. There is nothing left to regret. This time I will do it for real. I will choose the most brilliant death, in the most visible place, so all of you have to open your eyes wide to witness my liberation."

  A statement of self-destruction full of hatred. Typically, in other groups, people would rush to dissuade or call the police. But in this bizarre "Miraculous Dharma" den, the community's reaction is eerily strange.

  A few strange accounts with blank avatars begin dropping comments unrelated to the post content.

  [User_404]: "Did you dream about the monkey?"

  [Rakka]: "How... how do you know? Every night I meet it on the train."

  [User_404]: "That is a good omen. The Buddha has begun to watch over and bless you. Be patient, just a few more days, a miracle will come."

  I narrow my eyes. Dreaming of monkeys? Buddha? What bizarre logic is this?

  The timeline jumps three days later. And true to that fake prophecy, Rakka returns to comment on his own post. But the tone has changed 180 degrees.

  [Rakka]: "Thank you everyone. I... I no longer want to die. This life is truly beautiful. The light has shone upon me."

  It is at this moment that Ogawa jumped into the conversation.

  [Mujo]: "Hello friend, I am also facing similar problems. What happened to you in the past 3 days? Why did you change your mind so quickly?"

  Rakka replies almost immediately.

  [Rakka]: "I am not sure either, brother. It feels like... something inside me has disappeared, or a little bit is missing. But in return, I feel relieved. I realized I cannot die, because I still owe this life a lot. I must repay the debt."

  [Mujo]: "Since when did you have that feeling?"

  [Rakka]: "I cannot speak in detail here; heavenly secrets cannot be revealed. But if you want, I can teach you."

  [Rakka]: "It is Self-Awakening. We can discuss more thoroughly later. If you truly have an interest in finding a way out, call this number."

  Below is a sequence of phone numbers written stylistically to avoid the social media censorship filter.

  Having this phone number in hand, my investigation suddenly becomes as light as a feather. With The Nexus's super-tracking technology, finding a human's whereabouts based on a phone number is as simple as finding an elephant in a living room.

  I activate the "Rapid Tracking" feature on Solak. Lines of golden binary code run down the screen, piercing through all security firewalls of the mundane telecom carriers.

  Ting!

  Data pours in dizzyingly fast. Citizen ID, bank account, IP address, and even the list of dark anonymous forums he once accessed appear clearly.

  [Subject Profile]

  Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

  Full Name: Narita Seikō.

  Age: 35.

  Occupation: Freelance Consultant (Unemployed).

  Address: Apartment 204, Old Arakawa Complex.

  Appearing on the ID photo is a gaunt face, eyes with dark circles from lack of sleep, and a fake industrial smile. But the main thing is not that mediocre appearance, but a small crescent-shaped scar located right under the left jawline.

  "Bingo," I snap my fingers, my fox tail waving gently.

  It seems relying on myself is not as difficult as I thought; with the right method, all clues lead to Rome. Or in this case, lead to Kisaragi Station.

  I penetrate deeper into Narita Seikō's social media accounts. Perhaps that fake "Miraculous Dharma" group is not his only territory of operation. He has an entire small-scale ecosystem for "scamming chickens" on different platforms.

  His process of luring "prey" always follows a fixed script, sounding mystical at first but full of logical holes upon reflection.

  First is the Invitation Ticket.

  He claims that anyone chosen to "awaken" will experience a strange dream: The Dream of the Monkey (Saru no Yume). In the dream, they will see a monkey, and the train speaker will announce the name of the station to get off.

  Second is the Journey.

  Candidates must ride the train alone at midnight, absolutely not bring electronic devices, and get off exactly at the station foretold in the dream.

  And finally, the Awakening.

  There, they will enter the "Zone of Truth," where all worldly suffering vanishes and the self is reborn.

  "Sounds like a B-grade horror movie script, doesn't it," I mutter, scrolling down to the believers' comment section.

  Reality is much harsher than the advertisement. Dozens of complaining comments from gullible people appear:

  "Master, I have meditated for 7 days but still haven't seen any monkey. Just hungry."

  "I have been riding the night train all week, wasting so much money on tickets but haven't seen any strange station. Is it that I don't have fate?"

  "That is because your mind is not yet pure, your sincerity is not enough. Half-hearted effort will never be rewarded. Continue to believe."

  Basic level Gaslighting. Blaming the victim for their own incompetence.

  But the peak of shamelessness lies in a link pinned right at the top of his personal page:

  [VIP CHAT CHANNEL - SECRETS OF AWAKENING]

  "Want to shorten cultivation time? Want to know the secret to 'forcing' the monkey dream to appear? Join the closed group for direct 1-on-1 guidance from Master Seikō."

  Participation Fee: 20,000 Yen/month (Transfer or credit card).

  I sigh deeply, a feeling of disappointment surging.

  "Turns out it's just selling disguised online courses?" I shake my head in resignation. "Putting on such a show, ultimately just scamming chickens to earn rice."

  The guy probably doesn't even know how to activate that ritual. It is just a "painted cake" of salvation for those desperate to die.

  However...

  "Perhaps he is not completely fabricating it," I deduce. "This guy's experience with Kisaragi might be real. It is just that he is the only one who came up with the idea of profiting from his own enlightenment experience."

  I lean back, letting my body sink deep into the soft beanbag chair, claws tapping rhythmically on the table surface to an indefinite beat. The fragmented pieces about Narita Seikō begin to automatically rearrange in my head.

  Before that bizarre "Monkey Dream" appeared, this man was just a nameless speck of dust in the sea of Tokyo people, with no outstanding activity on social media other than complaining posts reeking of depression. His despair was real, his intention to self-destruct was also real.

  Yet, in just one night, he changed 180 degrees. From someone wanting to die to a "Guru" selling spiritual courses with an iron belief in life (and money). Such a sudden psychological shift cannot be due to autosuggestion alone. There must have been an extremely strong external impact, some terrible spiritual shock that broke and then reshaped his personality.

  "Ogawa surely saw this abnormality too."

  If my hypothesis is correct, then Seikō's experience of Kisaragi is real. He saw something, or met someone. And the only way to verify is to take a "tour" into this guy's brain.

  "Alright, decided then," I stretch, bones cracking. "I will visit Seikō's house tomorrow. Hopefully, this guy's head is tidier than the mental hospital of that Execution Officer."

  Intending to turn off the device and find something to eat, suddenly, Ogawa's phone screen, which I am using for parallel login, lights up.

  Ting.

  An anonymous message is sent via Line. No sender name, just a string of junk ID numbers.

  The message content is a short video clip, barely 2 minutes long.

  "?????" I furrow my brows, pressing the Play button.

  The video has quite poor quality, shaky and grainy, filmed in a dark room with filthy tiled floors. In the center of the frame, a man is tied tight, his head held down onto a bloody wooden chopping board. He is gagged, eyes staring wide open, dilated to the max in horror.

  I hold my breath. The flash light from the cameraman sweeps across the victim's face. Right under the left jawline, a small crescent-shaped scar appears clearly.

  There is no dialogue. A muscular executioner, wearing a gas mask, steps into the frame. In his hand, he brandishes a large meat cleaver, the blade shining reflecting the cold light.

  He swings his arm up. Decisive. Brutal.

  Thwack.

  The screen goes black.

  I freeze, my hand gripping the phone so tight the screen cracks a small line.

  Immediately after, a series of text messages appear, coming fast like a shower of rain.

  [Unknown]: "Just processing defective goods. Don't worry."

  [Unknown]: "You fox, this is not your playground."

  [Unknown]: "A whorish animal like you should know your place. Don't think that wearing The Jade Palace Conglomerate's suit means I don't know who you are."

  The fur all over my body stands on end. He knows I am holding Ogawa's account.

  [Unknown]: "I know what you did in the past. That stench, even washing for a thousand years won't clean it."

  [Unknown]: "Don't stick your sharp nose into other people's business. You don't fit the role of a hero."

  The last line of text appears, accompanied by a slowly downloading photo.

  [Unknown]: "Otherwise, the next one on the chopping board... will be this brat."

  The photo is blurry, taken from afar through a telephoto lens.

  A teenage boy wearing headphones, walking leisurely on the road from school to home, holding a comic book. Messy black hair, thick glasses.

  It is Kaito.