The venue for Koguchi Yoshihiro's concert was the Sapporo Dome, with an expected audience of fifty thousand. Don't underestimate Japan's small land size—its population exceeds a hundred million, and the spending power of its idol culture is staggering.
Of course, Japanese and Korean idol fandoms operate differently. Korean fandoms thrive on the fierce loyalty of female fans. Japan, though? Never underestimate the combat power of Heisei-era otaku.
"The dressing room layout doesn't make sense. I want to go over it with the staff on-site."
"One of the thirteen performance outfits has a torn sleeve. There's probably not enough time to sew it. Should we switch it out?"
"Everything else is minor. We can solve it directly at the venue."
Koguchi Yoshihiro had planned to arrive at the stadium in the morning for final checks, but his flight had been delayed. So he asked his friend, Motoma Anayama, to handle the inspection in his place. Anayama took the job seriously, down to the smallest detail.
"Just go with your judgment, Anayama-san. I trust you. You don't need to ask me," Koguchi replied from Itami Airport, where he was still stranded.
"We still haven't been able to reach Suzuki or Miyoshi. Please stay alert," Anayama warned.
By Japan's unspoken rules for concerts, there would be four guest performers tonight: Motoma Anayama, Kano Suzuki, Saburo Miyoshi, and Chu Zhi.
"Thanks, Anayama-san. I understand."
Koguchi kept his tone polite, but irritation was creeping into his expression. The flight delay had him on edge already. Anayama's constant updates were pushing him further.
Once the call ended, Koguchi let out a long breath. Anayama used to be his closest friend.
The truth was, Koguchi had always been shallow when it came to looks. He had approached Anayama five years ago, back when Anayama was at the peak of his appearance. Five years later, Anayama had lost that charm, and Koguchi had grown noticeably colder.
Friendship with Koguchi was easy to gain—as long as you were good-looking. But it never lasted unless you stayed that way.
While the concert team made final preparations, Chu Zhi was facing his own challenge. The variety show had thrown him a curveball: a mission called [Chosen by the Heroes' Guild]. His task? Collect foreign intel.
"Find ten strangers on the street and get them to answer questions," Chu Zhi muttered, looking down at the form in his hand. He needed their full name, birth date, and age—and all without revealing that they were filming.
The producers were wild for this one. "Who would casually give out personal info to a stranger? Did they think everyone on the street was naive?" Chu Zhi frowned.
"I feel like only our team leader or Cai Cai could pull this off," said Min Jeongbae.
Cai Jia wasn't socially anxious, but she wasn't exactly outgoing either. Just thinking about the mission made her second-guess herself. She was waiting for Jeongbae to offer some ideas.
"To collect this info abroad, you need to be good at talking. But more than that, your face needs to feel trustworthy," said Min Jeongbae. "Take me, for example. I don't exactly look like a good guy. Who would trust me?"
Zhang Ning nodded quickly. "My friends always say I look scary."
"I look like a thug," Luo Jianhui added after a long pause.
The group had great variety show chemistry. But when it got to Liu Pei, the guest star...
"I don't think I can do it either," he said flatly.
"…Wow. That was dry," Min Jeongbae muttered. Same agency, yet such a difference in personality.
Chu Zhi stepped in to save the moment. "Seems like it's just you and me, Cai Jia. Let's split the ten forms—five each. How's that sound?"
"Works for me," Cai Jia said. She was a strategy gamer at heart. She wouldn't have agreed if she hadn't already come up with a plan.
"I believe in smooth sailing," Liu Pei added, trying to join the conversation.
Uh... better not to say anything at all. Min Jeongbae glanced at him, speechless. How could there be such a big gap between coworkers?
Chu Zhi and Cai Jia approached their targets differently. Chu Zhi looked for families with small kids. Cai Jia, who couldn't speak Japanese, found a marker and whiteboard and drew up a game.
[Reincarnation Game! Free to Play! No Charge Even If It's Accurate!]
It was a gimmick, but it worked. Since the participants were random strangers, nationality didn't matter. Some Chinese tourists even came over to try.
What was your job in your past life? Based on your birth month:
January – Poet
February – Soldier
March – Monk
April – Escort
May – Hero
June – Honest Official
July – Taoist
August – Butcher
September – Scholar's Assistant
October – Palace Worker
November – Wealthy Merchant
December – Coroner"**
"Cause of death based on your zodiac sign: Rat – Executed for rebellion, Ox – Fell to death, Tiger – Crushed…"
They didn't need to approach anyone. Passersby came to them. Cai Jia even prepared thirty-one historical figure profiles for fun.
"Hahaha! I was a monk who got executed for rebellion. How does a monk rebel? Was I Zhu Yuanzhang? Starting out with a begging bowl? And my profile says I was Du Fu!"
Some Chinese tourists were just bored. Despite her mask, people could tell Cai Jia was a pretty girl. The first to join in was a fashionable girl with flawless makeup.
"Executed for rebellion… born in the Year of the Rat… 1984 would make me 36, too old. 2008 would make me 12, too young. So it must be 1996—24 years old."
"Du Fu, huh? Then…"
"Name: Li Xue. Date of birth: March 15, 1996. It's already October, so her birthday has passed. Yep, 24."
Cai Jia used deduction to double-check the answers and avoid false info. She stopped after collecting eight complete profiles.
Technically, it was a bit of a trick, but it fit the rules. The moment someone noticed the hidden cameras, the show's crew would step in, explain that this was for a variety program, and offer them a souvenir if they agreed to appear on-screen.
"Why are you so pretty, big brother?" a tiny voice piped up.
On his way to completing the mission, Chu Zhi met a small child—Arimura Ayaka, a preschooler visiting from Kyoto.
Ayaka was three or four years old, round-cheeked and utterly adorable. A perfect little human.
"And you're beautiful too," Chu Zhi replied, crouching to her level.
Her young parents rushed over to apologize. In Japan, politeness revolves around not causing trouble to others, which also implies, "Please don't cause trouble for me." But when real problems come, like nuclear waste water, everyone just bows, apologizes, and gives up.
"Can we take a photo, please?" Ayaka asked sweetly.
"Of course," said Chu Zhi, happily agreeing.
After the photo, he casually mentioned he was doing a social survey and gathered names and birthdates from the family: Arimura Tsutsumu, Arimura Kiko (who had taken her husband's surname), and Arimura Ayaka.
Chu Zhi completed his five interviews first. Then he noticed what Cai Jia was doing.
"Not bad. Doesn't matter what method you use, as long as it's not breaking the rules," he said. "The task said 'investigate,' not 'interrogate.'"
He also noticed that Cai Jia had deliberately focused on Chinese tourists and worn a mask to avoid being recognized and blowing the secret.
Each team had two tasks. Just as they finished the first, the second one dropped.
By 6 p.m., it was nearly evening when Director Kuruma appeared in front of the camera—a rare sight.
"Heroes' Guild elites, your team leader Chu Zhi has accepted a call for help. He has a support mission. Will you go with him?" Che Lun asked dramatically.
The others immediately understood. Chu Zhi had been invited as a guest performer at Koguchi Yoshihiro's concert.
Liu Pei's jaw dropped. His mind reeled.
So… Chu Zhi was that popular? Popular enough to get invited to perform at a concert in Japan?