"Hmm?"
Flandre tilted her head up, gazing at Lady Fumizuki in mild confusion before casting a glance down at the stage below. Hoshiguma was trailing slightly behind the figure in racing leathers, wearing an expression that suggested she had absolutely no idea who was standing on the first-place pedestal.
It was obvious that Hoshiguma had known all along that the person taking the trophy wasn't the real Chief Governor's wife.
"Think about it carefully, Flandre," Lady Fumizuki explained softly, her voice carrying a gentle, patient warmth. "This event is hosted directly by the Lungmen administration. If I, as the wife of the Chief Governor, publicly claimed the grand prize, wouldn't it invite immediate accusations that the outcome was rigged from the start? It would tarnish the spirit and fairness of the rally."
"But we all saw you win!" Flandre countered, a light pout forming on her lips. "You took first place on your own merit!"
"That is how it looks to us, but the wider public rarely sees things so simply," Fumizuki murmured, a wry smile gracing her lips. "Take the start of the final heat, for instance. I did rely on a few... tactical advantages, didn't I?"
Flandre paused, recalling the absolute mayhem at the green light. Every frontrunner—Hoshiguma included—had been dragged into a vicious brawl the second they crossed the starting grid. Only Lady Fumizuki had escaped untouched. One of the riders trying to box her in was her own shadow guard, while the other was cut off by another hidden escort, leaving her to break away cleanly.
If she hadn't ended up taking the championship, those minor skirmishes would have been overlooked as ordinary racing luck. But with her on the top step, the moment her public identity was attached to the victory, critics would claim the race was an orchestrated farce—that the organizers had placed bodyguards in the field specifically to sabotage her rivals.
Those who understood the nature of high-stakes rallies would know it was nonsense, but the uninformed public wouldn't care. Fueled by latent populist resentment toward authority and the wealthy elite, people wouldn't bother verifying the facts; they would simply parrot the narrative and fan the flames.
That was why Lady Fumizuki chose to step into the shadows.
Hoshiguma, on the other hand, occupied a completely different position. Though she was a prominent officer of the Lungmen Guard Department, she had carved her path to the podium through pure, undeniable brute force.
Even now, the giant screens around the perimeter were replaying her iconic maneuver on a continuous loop—reaching out with one arm, yanking an attacker off a moving bike, and hurling him into the tire wall.
The display was so thrillingly raw that no one in their right mind could claim her second-place finish was handed to her on a silver platter. Besides, finding another Oni woman in Lungmen of her towering height, imposing physique, and vibrant green hair would be practically impossible. She had no choice but to accept her trophy in person.
As the ceremony concluded, Hoshiguma strolled back over to Flandre's group, holding her silver award. By then, Lady Fumizuki had already offered a graceful farewell and slipped out ahead of the crowd.
"Yo, Hoshiguma! You really stole the show today," Beatrice greeted her, a tinge of playful envy in her tone. "Tsk tsk, plucking a guy off a speeding motorcycle like a sack of grain? That clip is going to be replayed in rally promo reels for the next decade."
Hoshiguma grinned, her green hair catching the afternoon light like a sprouting bean stalk. "Just doing what had to be done to clear a lane."
The group chatted as they made their way out of the arena, recounting the halftime incident with the knife-wielding lunatic.
Hoshiguma listened with keen interest, her eyes gleaming. "How does the discharge on that chain compare to our standard-issue LGD stun batons?"
Beatrice tapped her chin thoughtfully. "It feels considerably punchier. That fellow took one quick lash, went instantly rigid, and started twitching on the pavement. Though I can't say for sure whether it was purely the electrical output or the shock of the impact."
"Then let me take a hit when we get back to the precinct!" Hoshiguma offered eagerly, looking like someone who had just been offered a rare treat.
"Uh... are you serious?" Beatrice blinked, turning her gaze toward Flandre and Hong Meiling.
"It's very safe!" Flandre chimed in cheerfully.
"That thing looks anything but safe..." Beatrice muttered under her breath. "Though I suppose if you're determined to be a test subject, Hoshiguma, we can run a controlled trial."
Recalling how the suspect had collapsed in violent spasms without suffering any permanent physical damage, she figured an Oni's terrifying physical endurance could handle a test run.
The group returned to the LGD headquarters. Beatrice submitted her official incident report before leading a squad medical officer out to the tactical training grounds behind the main building.
Along the walk, Beatrice had already asked Flandre how the golden chain operated. One feature allowed the user to channel its magical current through direct contact—meaning anyone other than the wielder touching the chain would trigger the discharge. That was precisely the shock Hoshiguma wanted to gauge.
To establish a safety baseline, Beatrice unraveled the golden chain into its flexible whip form, and Hoshiguma cautiously tapped Beatrice's shoulder and wrist.
Nothing happened. The enchantment selectively protected the wielder, ensuring the electrical current wouldn't backfire or transfer through Beatrice's body into others.
Satisfied, Hoshiguma brought the back of her hand toward the golden links.
Anyone experienced with electrical equipment knows the fundamental rule: never use your palm to test a live current. High voltage triggers involuntary muscle contraction; if you grab a live wire with your palm, your hand will clench shut around it, trapping you in a lethal loop. Using the back of the hand ensures that muscle spasms will instantly snap your arm backward, breaking contact.
The moment the back of Hoshiguma's hand grazed the golden chain—
ZAP!
A brilliant arc of light flashed. Hoshiguma was instantly blasted backward, flopping flat onto her back against the turf as a wispy puff of white smoke drifted out from between her lips.
When everyone rushed over, they saw her tall, green hair standing completely on end in a spiky, electrified fan. The sight immediately reminded Flandre of a legendary ninja named Madara from a show she had watched back at the mansion.
"Cough, cough, cough!" Hoshiguma sat up, coughing twice to clear her throat before exhaling another plume of smoke. "Now that is some serious voltage!"
The medical officer rushed forward, running a quick diagnostic Arts scan across her vitals. Only after confirming that her heart rhythm was stable and her skin showed no deep burns did they allow the towering Oni to stand.
"How do you feel?" Beatrice asked, eyeing her nervously.
"Hiss... it hurts, alright," Hoshiguma admitted, rubbing the back of her hand as her senses cleared. "That single jolt left my brain feeling completely numb for a second."
She shook her head, her green hair swaying like a collection of static-charged needles, then looked at Beatrice with bright eyes. "Want to go again?"
"Forget it!" Beatrice pointed at her wild, spiky hair. "Look at your head! If you take another hit, you're going to transform into a Super Saiyan."
"This time we won't do direct physical contact," Hoshiguma pressed, entirely unfazed as she unclipped the heavy triangular shield from her back. "I'll use Hannya to block it. We need to test if tactical equipment can insulate against the discharge."
Beatrice stared at her, completely speechless at her sheer obsession with combat testing.
After confirming multiple times that the medical officer was standing by, they positioned themselves on the testing grid.
While Hoshiguma adjusted her grip on her heavy shield, Beatrice turned to Flandre standing beside her. "Do you think Hannya can block the electric shock?"
"Hoshiguma's shield is made of metal, right?" Flandre asked, looking at the sharp, triangular demon face carved into the heavy alloy.
"Yeah, high-density tactical alloy," Beatrice nodded.
"Then it definitely won't block it," Flandre stated with absolute certainty, her crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. "Metal conducts electricity!"