Military experts appeared on television, again and again dissecting the operation's professionalism, efficiency, and the overwhelming power it represented.
On that day, all of Japan was shaken—confused, stunned, and filled with deep awe—by a mysterious "private force" that had single-handedly accomplished something even a nation-state could not.
And at the center of the public storm was Seiji Fujiwara.
At that very moment, he was lounging comfortably on the sofa in his own home, watching the news on TV.
Several days later, Yokota Air Base.
This military restricted zone—nominally jointly administered by Japan and the United States, but in reality firmly under U.S. control—opened an unprecedented, tiny window to Japanese media.
Dozens of officially approved outlets, selected through strict screening, were allowed into a designated area to witness a moment destined for Japan's modern history.
A massive gray C-17 Globemaster transport plane sat quietly on the tarmac.
The rear cargo door slowly opened. XE Company employees in black uniforms handed over metal coffins draped with Japanese flags—containing the remains of the victims—as well as carefully shock-proofed aircraft wreckage, to the Self-Defense Forces honor guard already waiting.
The entire handover ceremony was solemn and efficient, filled with military precision.
Faced with reporters swarming forward, desperate to dig out more information, the on-site leader of XE Company—a white man wearing sunglasses, his face utterly expressionless—answered every question with extremely brief, emotionless official statements.
"We are XE Security Consulting."
"We were entrusted by a respected private client to carry out this humanitarian assistance operation."
"All information regarding our client is top-level commercial confidential material. We have no comment."
With that, he ignored all further questions, led the XE personnel back onto the aircraft, and departed Japan cleanly and decisively, as if they had never appeared at all.
They took with them millions of dollars in compensation—and left behind a massive mystery about a "mysterious benefactor" that shook the entire nation.
Faced with this almost humiliating "passive acceptance," the Japanese government adopted an unprecedentedly "high-minded" stance.
The prime minister personally attended an impromptu press conference and the remains reception ceremony at the airport.
First, he expressed his most sincere gratitude to the "unknown international friend filled with humanitarian spirit."
Then, in a highly unusual move, he bowed ninety degrees to the nation, apologizing for the government's "incompetence" and "delay" in the incident.
The entire sequence was both helpless and shrewd.
They could not publicly admit their failure—nor could they expose the fact that the "mysterious benefactor" was Seiji Fujiwara. That would have been tantamount to declaring to the world that a private entrepreneur had already surpassed the power of the state.
So they could only use this ambiguous approach, shaping Seiji Fujiwara into a figure worthy of gratitude but not investigation—a "nameless hero."
At the same time, they showcased an image of a government "willing to admit mistakes," attempting to salvage a shred of dignity already nearly exhausted.
The media and government maintained this Secret through tacit cooperation, but everyone at the core of power knew the truth.
A colossal entity had already achieved Growth.
Meanwhile.
Japan's upper class.
Within seventy-two hours of the incident, Japan's major conglomerates—from Mitsui and Mitsubishi to Sumitomo—mobilized their most elite private intelligence networks to investigate the true identity of this "mysterious benefactor."
Their intelligence channels spanned the globe, from top Wall Street investment banks, to lobbying firms on Washington's K Street, to arms dealers in the Middle East.
Countless streams of information converged like rivers flowing into the sea, all pointing to the same source.
"XE Company recently received a massive anonymous transfer from UBS."
"The F-16 fighter jets providing air support belonged to the 480th Fighter Squadron stationed in the Middle East, whose commanding officer is aligned with Congressman General Johnson's faction."
"And in General Johnson's campaign funds, there's an overseas political donation originating from a foundation registered in the Cayman Islands…"
When these seemingly unrelated clues were pieced together, a chillingly clear truth emerged before the heads of every conglomerate family.
It was Seiji Fujiwara.
The moment the result was confirmed, these elders—men who could make Japan's economy tremble with a single step—fell into a long, shared silence.
A silence mixed with shock, fear, and a deep sense of powerlessness.
Once upon a time, in their eyes, Seiji had merely been a gifted rising star in the business world—a talented junior they could calmly observe from above.
Only now did they realize, in terror, just how wrong they had been.
This young man had already constructed, beyond their sight, an unfathomable transnational power network spanning business, politics, and even the military.
His strength had long surpassed the scope of a mere "company."
This was a prehistoric leviathan that had lurked in the deep sea for ages.
After the shock came a rapid shift in attitude.
These old foxes, seasoned by a lifetime of experience, understood better than anyone how to read the situation.
The very next day, Genesis Company's front desk was flooded with cooperation proposals from major conglomerates.
From new energy development to biotechnology, to next-generation communication technologies—every premium project representing the future was opened fully to Genesis.
They no longer attempted to speak with Seiji Fujiwara as equals. Instead, they proactively sought favor.
Compared to the business world's shock, the political response was even more complex and far-reaching.
The Cabinet Intelligence and Research Office, through secret intelligence exchanges with the CIA, confirmed that the mastermind behind the operation was Seiji Fujiwara.
This top-secret report was delivered directly to the prime minister's desk.
The prime minister stared at it in silence for a long time, then finally let out a bitter smile.
"List him as a top-tier 'Special Observation Subject.' Friendly… observation."
He understood that for a "non-government force" that had already grown this massive, any form of suppression would be foolish and dangerous.
Cooperation and alignment were the only correct choices.
Soon after, the mayor of Kyoto—a veteran politician with deep roots in the political world—personally led an investment delegation to visit Genesis headquarters under the pretext of "inspecting emerging cultural industries."
His posture was extremely humble, hoping to establish a deeper "strategic partnership" with Seiji Fujiwara.
Meanwhile, police families with generations of influence woven through law enforcement and the judiciary also conveyed goodwill through private channels, expressing their willingness to provide necessary support "whenever needed."
They all understood that Seiji Fujiwara's displayed power meant he could no longer be viewed as an ordinary businessman.
He had become one of the few individuals capable of influencing national stability—someone who must be respected and befriended.
As someone who had been among the earliest to suspect the truth—and the earliest to dismiss his own suspicions—Toyokawa Sadaharu felt the greatest impact when he finally confirmed the facts through his own channels.
In the Toyokawa family study, Toyokawa Sadaharu looked out at the garden beyond the window, a bitter smile on his face.
Turning to the old butler beside him, he said, "Looks like my plan to bring him into the family as a son-in-law can be completely abandoned."
The butler was puzzled. "Young master, with your influence—"
"Influence?" Toyokawa Sadaharu shook his head. "If you bring someone like that into the Toyokawa Family, do you think you're gaining an ally?"
"No. That's inviting a wolf into the house. With his energy and ambition, in less than ten years, the entire Toyokawa Family would be devoured—nothing left, not even the bones."
He let out a long sigh and made his final decision. "Adjust the family strategy. For all cooperation with Genesis, we can forgo profits—but the relationship must be maintained."
In the Wakaba family living room, the atmosphere was even heavier.
Minami Mori stared at the image of Seiji Fujiwara speaking confidently at a business forum on TV, her eyes filled with feverish admiration.
She said to her husband, Takafumi Wakaba, in an unquestionable tone, "Dear, we must do whatever it takes to get on this ship."
Takafumi Wakaba gave a bitter smile. "Minami, our cooperation is already quite deep."
"Not enough. Far from enough!" Ambition gleamed in Minami Mori's eyes. "I don't mean business cooperation—I mean becoming one of his own people. Even if it's just as an insignificant extra in his vast empire, that's a thousand times better than being a so-called lead outside, who could be discarded at any moment!"
Her past claims about how "big shots only play around with women" now felt like a resounding slap to her own face.
Only now did she understand—it wasn't that big shots were heartless toward women. It was that the people she had known before didn't qualify as real big shots at all.
Internationally, with a single move involving millions of dollars in cash, Seiji Fujiwara became a newly risen VIP within the top PMC circles.
Countless brokers and arms dealers tried every possible way to connect with him.
But the turbulence of the outside world was nothing more than expected ripples to Seiji Fujiwara, standing at the center of the storm.
What mattered to him were the follow-up arrangements.
Under his direction, Megumi Kato's parents, along with all Japanese victims of Flight NH915, were properly taken care of.
After a solemn cremation ceremony, Megumi Kato personally placed her parents' urns in a top-tier private temple in Kyoto, closed to the public.
This temple had, since ancient times, been a place of prayer for the imperial family and the highest aristocracy.
Here, her parents' memorial tablets would stand alongside those of historical figures, receiving prayers and chanting from senior monks twice daily—forever.
When the burial ceremony ended, Megumi Kato knelt on a cushion, gazing at the two eternal lamps before her parents' tablets.
The heavy stone that had weighed on her heart for two months finally settled completely.
Endless sorrow dissipated, leaving behind clarity and release.
She slowly stood up, walked to Seiji Fujiwara—who had been silently accompanying her the entire time—and bowed deeply.
Then she raised her head. Those beautiful eyes that always carried a hint of confusion and distance were now astonishingly clear and resolute.
"Thank you, Fujiwara-sensei."
With that, Megumi smiled softly and added in a playful tone, "Of course, I'll also accept and cooperate with all of your perverted desires and demands."
The moment those words left her lips, a cold system notification echoed in Seiji Fujiwara's mind.
[Ding! Third-stage possession mission 'Complete Emotional Belonging' completed! Distributing rewards…]
[Congratulations, host. Acquired: Master-Level Director Skills!]
A vast, profound stream of information surged into Seiji Fujiwara's mind.
Camera language, narrative techniques, lighting aesthetics, actor direction—all of it imprinted itself deep into his soul as if it had always been there.
If before, he had relied on scripts far ahead of their time to perform dimensional suppression—
Now, he possessed the true pinnacle abilities of a director, capable of turning any ordinary story into an immortal classic.
He was confident that even if he were given Kitaura Osamu's dull, lifeless story, he could transform decay into brilliance and make it outstanding.
[Ding! Third-stage strategy completion detected. Distributing additional ultimate reward…]
[Congratulations, host. Acquired permanent ability: Mental Perception!]
A cool current circled through his mind, then spread through his entire body.
Seiji Fujiwara felt his world change instantly.
He could vaguely "see" Megumi Kato before him, surrounded by a warm, pure pale-golden glow—representing extreme love, gratitude, and trust.
He could "sense" the two bodyguards outside the door, emitting faint blue light symbolizing loyalty and vigilance.
And when he extended his attention farther, he could perceive countless mixed emotions across the city.
Most were gray—representing numbness and indifference—but among them were scattered lights of goodwill and malice directed toward him.
Though still blurry and indistinct, this was undeniably an incredibly powerful ability.
One that allowed him to always seize the initiative, in any situation or potential danger.
Excellent.
As Seiji savored the fruits of victory—
Megumi Kato.
With the burden in her heart finally lifted, she seemed completely reborn.
The faint sense of distance and melancholy that once surrounded her vanished.
In its place was a clear, radiant presence, imbued with an elegance and composure that made people hesitate to meet her gaze.
During her internship at Genesis, she displayed astonishing talent and competence. Many proposals and plans she handled were even better than those of some full-time employees.
Her beauty, too, bloomed with unprecedented brilliance as her aura transformed.
Genesis Company pantry, lunchtime.
Several young male coworkers gathered with coffee in hand, whispering in amazement.
"Did you see it? That Kato-san…" A bespectacled planner lowered his voice, filled with shock.
"I did… my god. Did she do something? It's like she's glowing now," another man from marketing said in awe. "I used to think she was just a cute, pretty high schooler, but now… it's completely different."
"Exactly! It's that… how do you put it? 'Presence.'"
"She's still polite and gentle to everyone, but you just feel like she's not from the same world as you. It's like standing in a museum before a priceless ancient Greek statue displayed alone—you only dare look from afar, afraid even your breathing might disrespect it."
"A statue? That's spot on!" The planner slapped his thigh, then sighed bitterly. "But don't dream. That's the boss's woman. You dare look too long—believe it or not, HR's termination letter will be on your desk tomorrow."
The moment he said that, the men fell silent, respect written across their faces.
In another corner of the pantry, the women's discussion was far more detailed.
"Mimi, did you see Kato-san's skin? That's not something makeup can achieve. It's like top-grade white jade—no visible pores, with a healthy natural glow."
"And not just her skin! Did you notice her posture? She used to walk slightly hunched, but now she's like a professional model—long neck, straight shoulders, every step elegant and confident."
A senior female employee from talent management analyzed with a professional eye. "I'd bet money that the outfit she's wearing—though it looks simple—is custom-made by a top luxury brand. The tailoring is flawless."
"I'm so curious how she maintains herself!" A young female assistant's eyes sparkled with admiration. "Is she using some expensive skincare products? Or did the boss hire one of those legendary private beauty teams that only serve high society?"
Suddenly, a usually introverted girl who worked in art design spoke up softly, her cheeks slightly flushed:
"Every time Kato-san passes by me, carrying that faint, pleasant scent... my heart races..."
"We're both girls, but I can't even look her in the eyes. She just seems too perfect—so perfect that even a single glance makes my heart pound."
Her words silenced the female coworkers around her.
They exchanged glances, then all wore complicated expressions of deep agreement.
Yes, that kind of awe toward beauty transcended gender.
They were jealous, certainly, but more than that, they felt an irrepressible longing and admiration.
However, Megumi Kato herself seemed completely oblivious to all these whispered discussions.
She simply focused on her work, or quietly followed behind Seiji Fujiwara—those clear eyes of hers reflecting only his figure.
The gazes of others—whether amazed, adoring, or envious—were nothing but meaningless background noise to her.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=
100 Powerstones for extra chapter today
You can read up to chapter 190 on patreon.com/NiaXD.