In recent days, Katsuyama Denshin had been feeling off.
His heartbeat remained unusually fast, and he often woke in the middle of the night.
A constant, inexplicable fear lingered in his chest, as if he had seen something terrifying.
Yet he had no memory of it.
"Heh… can't be those guys coming for revenge, right?"
He laughed at himself and quickly dismissed the thought.
Perhaps he had already chosen his next target.
Katsuyama had a little secret.
A minor, private habit: he enjoyed fighting.
He relished striking others—and the pain of being struck.
It gave him a unique thrill.
He had realized this as a child, but he hid it well.
As he grew up, he built a massive basement under his villa, turning it into an arena.
Using subtle tricks, he would lure people into the underground arena to fight.
Only one person could leave alive.
He had done this many times—and each time, the survivor was himself.
Among his victims had even been a sanda champion.
But this didn't mean he was some challenger seeking strong opponents.
He was just a perverse killer.
His victims weren't limited to fighters; ordinary housewives and university students were included.
In his words, after enjoying the main course, one occasionally needs dessert.
Killing defenseless people carried no psychological burden for him.
At most, he found a completely passive target boring to strike.
Throwing his clothes into the washing machine, Katsuyama prepared to take a shower.
But as he turned, he glimpsed something from the corner of his eye.
What was that?
It looked like a tall human figure, but the gray skin and twisted face revealed it wasn't human.
"You!"
He spun around, taking a defensive stance.
But when he looked, the balcony was empty.
A gentle breeze drifted through the open window, rustling the clothes hanging there.
"What… was I just doing?"
He patted his face, confused, realizing he had forgotten something.
His heart raced, and his back was damp with cold sweat.
Was his stance a defensive one?
"No… not human!"
A thought flashed in his mind.
It hadn't been a human he'd seen, but something else.
His eye muscles twitched slightly as he began to understand.
Why had he been feeling so strange lately? Why did he wake up at night?
Clearly, something had been watching him.
Late at night, it would silently stand at his bedside, staring.
Perhaps it was the faint sound of footsteps, perhaps a slight breath.
Katsuyama, in his sleep, had sensed it and awoke.
The terrifying face capable of scaring children appeared before him.
Whenever he tried to resist, it vanished.
Along with it went his memory.
"Trouble."
He gritted his teeth, his expression shifting.
After a few seconds, he made a decision—to check the surveillance footage.
But as he left the balcony, his memory once again went blank.
"What am I… doing?"
Running, Katsuyama gradually slowed.
What had happened? Why was he running? Where was he going?
Right—he was checking the cameras. But why?
Countless questions swirled in his mind.
What he didn't see was a tall, gray humanoid standing silently at the end of the hallway, coldly watching his back.
---
"Team Nine-Tails Fox One, in position."
"Team Nine-Tails Fox Two, in position."
"City Slicker One(Pi-1), in position."
"Ghostbusters One(Mu-13), in position."
Outside Katsuyama's home, various Institute squads quietly surrounded the area.
With the Skull Mirror's fragmentary memory and Joseph's Hermit Purple, the target's position was locked.
If luck held, the Institute would gain another D-class—or rather, a new member.
"Do not act rashly; we are checking the building."
Through earpieces, an electronic voice relayed the orders.
No one spoke or moved unnecessarily.
They were like cold statues, not living people.
---
Inside, Katsuyama checked his surveillance monitors.
"Damn it!"
He slammed his fist on the desk, his expression grim.
Because of his peculiar hobby, his surveillance system was meticulously installed.
It covered most of the rooms while avoiding the underground arena entrance.
But so far, he had seen nothing.
In his memory, he had checked four times—nothing appeared.
Ordinary people might have given up, but he hadn't.
He believed something was definitely happening.
Covering his forehead, he leaned back.
His eyes fell on a message on the computer.
Play count: 14 times
Staring blankly at the screen, a chill ran down his spine.
What does this mean?
Fourteen times? When?
Slap!
He sat upright, staring at the computer.
What was this?
A pen lay by his hand.
The paper beneath it was covered in marks.
Ink spilled everywhere, but he paid no mind.
Because he saw a line of words:
Don't take your eyes off the computer!!
It seemed to be in his handwriting.
Play count: 27 times
This time, he saw it clearly.
A monster was inside his home.
It was there while he slept, ate, showered—even during recent underground arena fights.
It had always been beside him.
And now…
Turning stiffly, he prayed in his heart.
Don't appear, don't appear.
But he was disappointed.
The grotesque face pressed close to him.
This time, it didn't disappear.
Because it didn't need to.
"Ahhhhh!!"
A scream tore from Katsuyama's throat.
Even the Institute personnel waiting outside could hear it clearly.