North Lake District, Luxury Apartments, Unit 303.
Steve Smith carried Anita Hailey through the front door. Officer Nathan followed close behind, rambling incessantly.
"Mr. Smith, we really should have taken her to a proper hospital and called her parents. What were they thinking, letting a little girl run around barefoot in a storm?"
Steve carried Anita into the bathroom and placed her in the tub.
Nathan continued, "Even if she's out cold and can't talk, we have to call the police. Her family must be out of their minds with worry right now..."
Steve walked out to grab a large towel. Seeing Steve remain silent, Nathan decided to take initiative and pulled out his phone. "Fine, I'll do it. Oh? It's a call from Dr. Miller..."
Steve placed the towel by the tub and looked up. Nathan suddenly had a very bad feeling. "Steve—"
A swift strike to the neck. The world went silent.
Steve caught Nathan before he hit the floor with one hand and took the phone with the other. He answered it calmly, perfectly mimicking Nathan's voice. His face was expressionless, but his tone was thick with professional apology.
"Dr. Miller? Yes, we ran into a bit of trouble. No... cough... we found a lost little girl in the rain. She's got a fever and passed out. We're getting her settled before heading to the clinic. Cough... Yeah, I think I caught a bit of a cold myself. Don't worry, Mr. Smith is fine. I've already contacted the girl's parents; they're out of town but they're heading back now. Right... we'll be back as soon as they arrive."
He hung up and turned his attention back to the "drowned rat" in the bathtub. He gave her a quick, clinical wash, wrapped her in a towel, and tucked her into bed.
He still had a lot to do: buy her some proper clothes, pick up the books he'd ordered, check his medicine cabinet for fever reducers, and grab some takeout.
Two hours later, the rain outside began to taper off.
The lights in the living room and bedroom were on. Steve sat at his desk, browsing the dark web on his laptop. Taking advantage of this rare moment of unsupervised internet access, he began digging.
In this world, bounty hunters existed, but there was no "International Investigation Bureau." To claim a bounty, one had to contact a specific national agency, register, and receive clearance. In the US, it was the FBI or CIA; in Japan, it was the National Police Agency's Security Bureau.
There were two ways to register. One was the "Public" route—showing up, proving your skills, and being put on the books. Steve dismissed this instantly. He was a psychiatric patient with a medical record; the last thing he needed was a government background check.
The second way was via the deep web. You contacted an administrator through a secure portal and registered anonymously. Everything was handled via encrypted messaging.
He found the police portal and sent a message:
[Bounty Hunter Registration. Area of Operation: Japan.]
the reply was nearly instant:
[Have you operated in other countries? If so, provide your alias and license number.]
Steve: [No prior recorded operations.]
Admin: [Bounty hunting is rare in Japan. Why here?]
Steve: [Because I am here.]
The admin took thirty seconds to process that logic.
[Provide an alias.]
Steve: [July.]
Admin: [Preferred payment method?]
Steve typed in his offshore anonymous account: [2219....]
Admin: [Contact info.]
Steve provided a burner email: [8781....]
Admin: [Do you understand the Rules of Engagement?]
Steve: [I do.]
A bounty hunter was essentially a freelancer. For the right price, they did anything—from finding lost treasures to high-risk arrests or even assassinations. Unlike mercenaries, who worked in disciplined squads, bounty hunters were lone wolves. Even if they teamed up, it was rarely more than five people.
The admin sent over a packet of guidelines and a data file.
[We need to evaluate your level.]
Steve opened the files. The rules were standard: don't hurt innocents, don't kill the target (or the bounty is void), and if you get caught doing something illegal, you're on your own.
The evaluation consisted of three tasks:
Gather evidence on a local gang.
Apprehend a serial killer.
Protect a specific target.
Information, Arrest, and Protection. A standard trial. If he failed all three, he'd likely never hear from them again. The real money—the high-stakes internal contracts—only went to those who proved their worth.
The protection mission lasted only three days but paid the most. However, the arrest mission caught his eye. The target: Kevin Nelms (Numabuchi Kiichiro).
Steve remembered this part of the "story." Kevin was a low-level fugitive for the Organization who was about to be caught. Why not snag the cash and the reputation?
He looked over at Nathan, who was still out cold on the sofa. He had fooled the asylum for now, but once Nathan woke up, Steve would be in for a world of "psychological counseling" if he didn't play this perfectly.
A sound came from the bedroom. The door creaked open. Anita Hailey stood in the doorway, staring at the living room.
She had actually been awake for a while. She had woken up to find herself in a set of warm, brown bear pajamas—complete with a round black tail on the back of the pants. It made her feel... complicated.
What is with these cute pajamas? she wondered. More importantly, who changed me?
She remembered two men. She had thought they were the Organization and had given up. Then one of them picked her up, and she blacked out. She had spent the last ten minutes praying that the men had a sister or a girlfriend who had bought the clothes and changed her. Only a girl would pick out teddy bear pajamas, right? And matching bear slippers... and matching underwear...
She stepped into the room, saw no women, and felt her heart sink.
"You're awake?" Steve looked up, locked his screen, and headed to the kitchen to boil water. "There's food on the table. Eat, then take your medicine."
Anita watched him walk into the kitchen, her throat tight. She sat on the sofa and opened the takeout box, eating in silence. His calm demeanor left her unsure of how to start a conversation. She also needed a cover story for her "family" situation.
But Steve didn't ask.
He brought over a glass of water and the fever medicine, placed them on the table, and went back to his laptop. Anita glanced at Nathan on the opposite sofa. His sleeves were damp, his tie was crushed under his shoulder... he didn't look like he was "napping." But he was breathing.
Steve seemed to be downloading something onto his phone.
The silence was deafening. Anita finally spoke. "I'm staying with relatives. If I don't go back, they'll worry."
Steve didn't look up. "Take your medicine. I'll drop you off after."
Anita: "..."
Another minute of silence.
"Did you change my clothes?" Anita asked, her voice small.
"Yes," Steve said bluntly. "I gave you a bath, too."
"You bought these?" Anita's expression was pained.
Steve still didn't look up. "Yeah. Besides the pajamas, I bought you two outfits for daily wear. You can pick one later. Your old lab coat only had an oversized t-shirt underneath; it was soaked and filthy."
Anita's ears turned bright red. She shoveled rice into her mouth. She knew her old clothes wouldn't fit her shrunken body, but why did a grown man have to be so thorough that he bought her everything—including the underwear?
Another minute passed.
"Thank you..." she muttered.
"You're welcome."
Silence again.
"What's wrong with him?" Anita nodded toward Nathan.
"Ether," Steve replied.
Anita: "..." Is he allergic to full sentences?
At least she understood. He'd knocked the guy out with chemicals. Steve finally added, "It's better if he sleeps for a while."
Anita remembered hearing they were supposed to be somewhere. "I think I've caused you a lot of trouble..."
"Not really," Steve said. "I actually had some business to take care of anyway."
Anita didn't press for details. She looked at him intently. "Aren't you curious? Why a little girl was wandering the streets alone in a storm?"
Steve: "Not particularly."
Anita: "Nothing you want to ask?"
Steve: "No."
Anita: "..." Silent staring.
Steve: "..." Calmly staring back.
Anita looked down and went back to her rice. She had lost this round.