Chapter Sixty-Three: Setting Out

Fang Shican carried the case containing the only copy of the storage drive and boarded the bulletproof car parked beneath the Intelligence Headquarters, heading toward the Prime Minister's Official Residence in Chiyoda. As the driver proceeded forward, Fang Shican gazed out through the one-way bulletproof glass at the cityscape, lost in thought.

In truth, although he had appeared so confident back in the meeting room, as if every plan was already accounted for, there remained a nagging confusion at the bottom of his heart. He had only learned today of the Prime Minister’s decision to undertake this secret operation—an action prompted by the Americans’ “request.” As the secretary, he had no grounds to comment on the Prime Minister’s decision, but he understood clearly: if the operation went as intended, the Americans would claim all the benefits while Japan would bear all the losses.

In Fang Shican’s estimation, this Prime Minister was not a man to act so recklessly. Even if, like his predecessors, he could not withstand the pressure from America, he should not have surrendered so completely in such a short time. This was what puzzled him most.

And then, when the mission ended in failure, the Prime Minister had abruptly instructed him to classify the relevant footage as confidential and to bring the only storage drive back to the Official Residence—an action that was clearly premeditated, as if the Prime Minister had expected the operation to fail from the start. This was another point he could not understand.

All these doubts tangled within him, leaving Fang Shican’s mood unsettled and complex.

The bulletproof car sped smoothly toward its destination. Tokyo was not a city prone to traffic jams at the best of times, and in the wake of the recent “Mekamachi Incident,” the number of pedestrians and vehicles on the roads had decreased even further. As a result, the car encountered no obstacles and soon pulled up before the Prime Minister’s Official Residence.

Carrying the case, Fang Shican entered without needing to present an ID card or any identification—his face alone was passport enough. As soon as he stepped inside, the security staff approached him and bowed slightly.

“Mr. Fang, the Prime Minister has been waiting for you.”

He nodded briefly and proceeded with steady steps. Only upon reaching the third floor, before the last office, did he gather his composure, casting aside all doubt, and stood before the door.

“Mr. Fang, come in directly,” called a calm, firm voice from within—it was the Prime Minister. Fang Shican had barely set foot outside the door when the office’s occupant was already aware of his arrival.

Every floor of the Official Residence was blanketed with unobtrusive cameras in the ceilings and countless sensors embedded beneath the floors. It was only natural that the Prime Minister would be notified of his presence at the very instant Fang Shican arrived at this final, secretive office.

He bowed slightly and entered. The office was spacious, no less so than the meeting room from earlier. Inside, besides the Prime Minister seated behind a mahogany desk, several other men sat on the sofas—each one a bureaucrat of a far higher rank than those at the “Special Operations Meeting”: the Superintendent General of the Metropolitan Police, the Minister of Defense, and the Director-General of the National Police Agency. Besides their positions, they shared another identity: all were members of the Social Democratic Party of Japan, the Prime Minister’s own party—his most trusted ministers, whose fortunes rose and fell together.

Behind the desk, the Prime Minister sat with fingers interlaced, his face resolute and unyielding. He and the other ministers were all watching, with complex expressions, the white screen on the other side of the room. There, the final battle of Mio Ito played out—a spectacle of blood blooming scarlet across the world, and a young girl’s silhouette reappearing before humanity. The projected footage was clearly far sharper and more detailed than what had been shown in the meeting earlier; it was obvious that the live feed in the meeting had not been the entire story. At least several hundred drone feeds had been withheld, reserved only for the highest echelons of Japan’s power structure.

Even as Fang Shican entered, only a few high officials glanced his way, most not bothering to pay him any further attention.

Fang Shican gave a short bow, stood by the wall, and gently placed the case on the carpet, making no sound.

Only when the footage ended and the screen went black did Fang Shican step forward and bow to the Prime Minister.

“Prime Minister, I have conveyed your orders at the ‘Special Operations Meeting’ and returned with the sole broadcast footage stored on this drive.”

“You have worked hard, Mr. Fang. Please, have a seat.”

Fang Shican straightened, bowed once more to the other high officials, and then took the farthest seat on one of the sofas.

The Prime Minister did not pay special attention to the case, but instead turned his gaze to the Superintendent General, Ryoji Okawa, his expression grave as he inquired,

“Mr. Okawa, the footage has been replayed five times now… Are you confident?”

“I am about sixty percent certain,” Okawa replied. “The target’s appearance matches almost exactly with the photograph in our files. Additionally, my people have located the widow of the patrol officer from the records, in the outskirts of Arakawa Ward. Although she has been driven nearly mad by recent trauma—in fact, precisely because of her condition, the credibility of our findings is higher. When we showed her the photo of the target, her agitation intensified, she tried to seize the picture from us, and she even uttered what may be the target’s true name…”

“I see… sixty percent certainty is enough to proceed,” the Prime Minister murmured.

The exchange between the Prime Minister and the Superintendent General echoed through the office. To Fang Shican, it only deepened his suspicions, but aware of his lowly status, he did not dare utter a word or ask any questions. He controlled his breathing, making himself as inconspicuous as possible.

Still, Fang Shican could sense that the Prime Minister and the Superintendent General were discussing matters related to the “Blood Angel.”

As Fang Shican sat quietly in the corner, striving to be invisible, the Prime Minister suddenly turned his gaze to him.

“Mr. Fang, regarding my actions today—whether agreeing to the U.S. base’s request for this operation, assigning you to attend the meeting, issuing the sudden confidential order, or my conversation just now with Mr. Okawa—have you felt any confusion?”

Fang Shican bowed respectfully. “I trust that all your actions have their reasons, Prime Minister.”

The Prime Minister studied him closely and nodded almost imperceptibly, but with his head bowed, Fang Shican could not see the approving look on his face.

“Mr. Fang, you are my most trusted aide. I am about to tell you everything related to this matter—if you are willing to depart immediately, I will explain it all to you on the way.”

“Depart?” The confusion in his heart peaked, overcoming even the strict boundaries of rank and decorum. He raised his head and looked directly at the Prime Minister, forgetting himself.

“Yes, depart.” The Prime Minister nodded, his expression as unyielding as stone.

“To set out and meet the ‘Blood Angel’ face to face!”