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A New Otherworlder Bursts Onto the Scene – Part 02

The Doyama residence stood as a single-story house on a vast estate.

For a single family, the traditional Japanese house seemed excessively spacious. However, on this particular night, the only person inside was old man Doyama, the elderly patriarch.

One might consider it careless, but despite the exquisite garden outside, the furnishings within the mansion were modest at best. Even if a burglar were to break in, they would be confounded about what to steal.

In essence, the Doyama family safeguarded themselves from burglaries by keeping no valuables inside the house. Indeed, there had been several break-ins in the past, but nothing was ever taken, and data from surveillance cameras installed all around led to the burglars’ arrests.

It was well-known among criminals that breaking into the Doyama residence was not worth it, and there was a high risk of getting caught. A high-risk, low-return endeavor.

While the Doyama family resided in a luxurious mansion, they abstained from excessive luxuries.

Despite owning land, they refrained from engaging in money-making schemes. The Doyama family understood that indulging in luxuries beyond their means would lead to their downfall. History provided plenty of examples of families reaching such prominence, only to fall into ruin.

Mr. Doyama had dedicated his life to protecting the mountain. His son understood this, and he had conveyed the same to his family. While the wife could not wrap her head around it initially, she had come to accept it, recognizing the genuine commitment of both the old man and his son.

In a world where one could easily travel to the other side of the Earth, where one could become a global celebrity with just a smartphone, the Doyama family’s way of life seemed outdated and abnormal. All of it was because of the presence of Mt. Midori.

Without this mountain, old man Doyama might have left his home and led an entirely different life. But once you knew about this mountain, such a way of life would become impossible. And that was how he had lived up to this age.

The sound of rain was faintly audible.

As soon as the security guards left, Doyama promptly laid down on a futon spread across a small, six-tatami-mat room. His eyes were closed, his arms and legs stretched out properly on both sides of him.

“…”

He opened his eyes.

Rising from the futon, he turned on the light at his bedside. The sliding door was open, and a man in all black stood on the veranda.

Water dripped steadily. The glass door behind the man was open when it should have been locked. There was a circular cut on the glass.

“Normally, you’d install alarm in this spot.”

The man was clearly not a native speaker of Japanese.

“Whether I install an alarm or not, those who want to enter will enter,” Doyama said without a hint of panic. “Feel free to search the house. There’s nothing valuable here.”

“I not come here to steal. My crew will be here soon. They skilled enough to destroy this whole house in less than an hour.”

“An hour? The police will be here in thirty minutes.”

“Under normal circumstances, yes, but not today.”

The old man frowned at the man’s confident tone.

“You can call security company if you want, but if they not have guns, they only add to number of corpses.”

The man pulled out a gun from his holster. Doyama was not obtuse enough to mistake it for a model gun.

“There have been dozens of people who told me to sell the land, but you’re the first one to bring a gun. Oh, there were some who brought shanks, though.”

“Shanks?”

“Knives basically. Back in the day, many fools used to walk around with those things.”

“I see.” The man seemed impressed by Doyama’s lack of reaction to the gun. “So, you not cave to these kinds of threats.” He pointed the gun at Doyama, but the old man remained unperturbed. “You not afraid of death.”

“At my age, death is just around the corner.”

“Hmm. I like your guts.” The man lowered his weapon, but it was by no means a declaration of surrender. “So, does that mean there’s something significant on mountain?”

“What do you mean?”

“I sense the mountain restless.”

Doyama’s eyes grew wide.

“Can you feel it too?” the man asked.

Just the other day, Doyama said the same thing to Hikaru: the mountain was restless.

However, the old man felt a clear difference in the words between this man and himself. It wasn’t because the man wasn’t used to Japanese or anything.

“What are you even talking about? Only those living in this house are able to tell!”

“What you mean by that?”

“I’m not telling you. If you’re after the mountain, there’s even less reason for me to tell you anything.”

“I see. You’re thinking that even if you die, your son will inherit land. But what if your son also dies?”

“…What?”

“If I wipe out all your blood relatives, what will happen? The land returns to national treasury and go up for auction according to laws of this country.”

“Nonsense. The possibility of a foul play would be too high for an immediate auction. It would take years.”

The man sighed. “You not get it, old man. I not care about the land anymore. Think lightly of me, and there will be consequences. Once you’re gone, I’ll be free to enter mountain.”

“I thought you wanted the land.”

“My organization and Japanese associates do. But mistakes happen. I do as I please.”

The man pointed the gun at Doyama again, and for the first time, the old man showed signs of unease. For him, whose top priority was protecting the mountain, being killed wasn’t a big deal. However, someone entering the mountain, ignoring all restrictions, was completely unacceptable. And this assailant was seriously considering that.

The old man’s gaze shifted away, and the man did not miss it. How could he look away at this moment? It could only mean one thing.

“No way!”

There were only two people here—the assailant and Doyama. The man didn’t actually see it, but there was something there. He could feel it. Something was coming towards him.

Following his instincts, the man used his free left arm to guard his stomach.

Right after blinking, he saw someone smaller than himself—someone with the build of a young boy—kicking him. A person had appeared all of a sudden, without warning, as if out of thin air.

The man managed to catch the attack. Considering the difference in physique, he should have easily blocked it, but the power of the kick, digging into his left arm, far exceeded expectations. The man’s feet lifted off the floor, and he was sent flying backward.

His body hurled through the glass door, breaking it, then fell onto the rain-soaked gravel. Glass shards sprayed all around. They would’ve sparkled under the sun, but it was late at night, and they were hardly visible.

The man quickly got up and readied his gun. “Who’s there?! Someone from the security company?!” he roared in his native language.

Standing there one legged was someone with the physique of a young boy, as the man had suspected.

His attire, however, was odd, a cloak over what seemed like ancient travelling clothing. And most peculiar of all was the silver mask the boy wore on his face.

“See? I told you there would be an attack tonight,” Silver Face told the old man behind him.