The private office grew silent, punctuated only by the occasional click of a mouse.
Chief Miller's expression grew increasingly solemn. The confession from Kevin Nelms, the investigation into the couriers, the crime scene at the mountain cabin, the CCTV footage outside Headquarters, the burner phone logs, the traffic patterns...
The information provided by the Osaka PD was as detailed as it could get. They had even run unnecessary checks, likely out of their own curiosity about who had delivered a high-profile fugitive like Nelms in a box.
Unfortunately, despite all the data, they didn't have a face, a fingerprint, or even an estimated age. Even the voice on the "Special Delivery" call had been electronically masked.
This is a meticulous, cautious individual, Miller thought.
What bothered him most was how the hunter had convinced a hardened criminal like Kevin Nelms to help maintain his anonymity. Were they accomplices? No—bounties were claimed at random; it could have been any fugitive. Was it just luck? Even if they knew each other, Nelms wouldn't willingly go to prison just to help someone get a payday.
I don't get it.
A young officer waiting by the desk flinched as his phone chimed. "Uh, sorry, sir..."
"It's fine. Check it. You're July's point of contact; maybe it's him," Miller said, attempting a joke to lighten the mood. He stopped when he saw the officer's face go pale. "What is it?"
The officer cleared his throat. "It's July. He sent an email saying the 'Evidence Gathering' bounty is complete. He's asking where to drop off the materials."
Miller went silent.
Wait, let me process this...
The night before last, July registered. Yesterday at noon, July caught Kevin Nelms in Osaka. This morning, July finished a high-stakes evidence gathering mission in Tokyo.
Tracking Nelms was one thing, but this evidence mission was notoriously difficult. The target was hyper-vigilant and hadn't personally committed a crime in years. His home and office were guarded like fortresses. The bounty had asked for "any evidence" precisely because the police couldn't get close enough to find a single lead without sparking a war with the Inagawa-kai.
Using a bounty hunter allowed them to bypass red tape—after all, a freelancer isn't part of the system. But July had found the "smoking gun" in less than twenty-four hours?
You've got to be kidding me.
"Tell him to send it to the National Police Agency," Miller commanded. "Give him my direct office number. And tell him that if he's willing, we'd like to meet for a face-to-face chat."
"Yes, sir." The officer typed frantically, then waited. A moment later, he looked up. "He says that besides the evidence, he has 'additional intelligence' to include. He wants us to review the value and adjust the payment accordingly."
Miller frowned. Price gouging? No—if he were gouging, he wouldn't send the items first and leave the valuation up to the buyer. That meant the hunter was confident in the material.
"Agree to it. Change into civilian clothes and stake out the area near the Agency entrance. If you spot him, do not engage or startle him. If he notices you, be sincere. We have no ill will; we just want to understand who we're working with."
"Yes, sir!"
"And one more thing," Miller added. "Send a memo to the Criminal Investigation Department. They're covering half of the Nelms bounty. It was our contract, but Nelms was their case, and they solved a cold case because of it. I'm not letting them ride our coattails for free."
The officer's expression turned subtle. Is the Chief worried we're going to run out of money? Given July's terrifying efficiency at "farming" bounties, he might actually bankrupt the PSB's discretionary fund...
After the officer left, Miller went back to his files. The bounty fund was usually just a formality—about ten million yen to keep up appearances since elite hunters rarely operated in Japan. He needed to request a budget increase immediately. If they had to terminate a contract because they couldn't pay, the Agency would become a laughingstock in the global intelligence community.
Once is a fluke. Twice is a pattern. July is something else... I need to report this to Unit Zero.
Ten minutes later, the phone rang. A rough, honest-sounding voice spoke with a hint of nervousness: "Hello? Your express delivery is at the front gate of the Agency. Please come down and pick it up whenever you're free."
Another delivery? Miller began to wonder if July had an obsession with the postal service or if he actually worked as a courier.
Thirty minutes later, the materials were on Miller's desk.
It really was a standard courier delivery. July had apparently spotted a delivery truck parked nearby, slipped the box inside while the driver was distracted, and even filled out the shipping manifest. The drivers, when questioned, were genuinely clueless.
"He knew we'd be waiting for him," Miller sighed. "He's not going to show his face. Let's see what we've got."
A sticker was taped to the cardboard box:
[CONTAINS ELECTRONICS AND FLAMMABLES. HANDLE WITH CARE. DO NOT USE FORCE TO OPEN.]
The young officer carefully opened the box. Inside was a transparent plastic bag with a printed note:
[WE ARE: BLOODY CLOTHES, A FRESHLY EXHUMED SKULL WITH A BULLET HOLE, AND A HANDGUN WITH PRINTS.]
Miller's eye twitched. "He sent a loaded firearm through the regular mail?"
The officer nodded blankly. July clearly didn't worry about the package getting lost or stolen.
"Open it," Miller said. After a moment, his expression turned even stranger. "He actually got the target's personal weapon?"
The officer put on gloves and pulled out the items. "Yes. The skull and the gun can be used for ballistics. There are clear fingerprints. Even if this doesn't lead to a direct conviction for the current syndicate activity, we can arrest him for illegal possession of a firearm and suspicion of homicide. The bloody clothes seem to belong to a missing person from a cold case."
Miller rubbed his temples. The issue wasn't the evidence—it was how the hell the hunter had taken the personal weapon of a high-ranking syndicate enforcer. Was the Inagawa-kai executive an idiot? How do you let someone walk off with your gun and dig up your victims?
July is nothing if not thorough, Miller thought.
"Sir, there's something else." The officer pulled out a smaller bag with another note.
[I AM: VERY, VERY BIG INTELLIGENCE. REQUESTING A BONUS.]
"Definitely an eccentric taste," Miller muttered, trying to ignore the way the hunter personified the objects. "Let's see it. If July calls it 'very big,' it's likely a bombshell."
An hour later, the two men were sprinting out of the office. The officer took the evidence to forensics, while Miller grabbed a memory card and headed to his superior's office to beg for more money.
The intelligence was indeed "very, very big."
It contained the location of the smuggled goods, the transaction time, the names of everyone involved—including a councilman—and even a recording of the secret meeting. It was a complete roadmap for the PSB. They could set up a sting, or they could strike now.
Miller realized he could even squeeze the Metropolitan Police's 4th Division for a contribution to the bounty fund, since they'd be handling the syndicate arrests.
3:00 PM.
Steve Smith woke up, washed his face, and checked his offshore account. There was a new transfer: 7.5 million yen.
It was 4.5 million more than the base bounty. Considering he'd provided a silver platter for a major federal bust, the price was fair—perhaps even a little generous. He'd officially earned a reputation with the NPA; they'd even opened up the real-time "Most Wanted" list for him.
The list was a goldmine of fugitives, with rewards ranging from 50,000 yen to millions.
One "Protection" mission left...
Steve thought about it and decided to pass. He wasn't a bodyguard; his "Cleaner" instincts were all about the hunt, not the shield.
Besides, the mission description read: "Starts May 19th, lasts three days."
What is May 19th? In this world of shattered timelines, he'd only know when May 19th arrived when the sun came up on it. Planning ahead was impossible. Since bounties were freelance, he didn't need to cancel—he just wouldn't show up.
He pulled the Osaka burner SIM card out of his phone. He'd planned to use it for the "Special Delivery" call, but since he'd used a courier truck as a proxy, he hadn't needed it.
Keep it, he thought. In this world, a spare identity is worth its weight in gold.