"From the very beginning, Suzune Horikita believed she and Ayanokoji were partners working toward a common goal—perhaps even close companions. But to Kiyotaka Ayanokoji, Horikita was nothing more than a tool."
"Everything Ayanokoji did was for his own benefit. Regardless of the process or the magnitude of the sacrifice, as long as he stood as the victor in the end, it was enough."
"In his eyes, while Emilia and Horikita possessed vastly different temperaments, they were functionally identical: transparent individuals whose thoughts could be deduced with ease. Such people are the simplest to control."
"Is this for real?"
"Ayanokoji is... that kind of person?"
"But he has zero presence in class!"
The students of Class 1-D were reeling. Every head snapped toward the window seat. In their eyes, Ayanokoji was "background noise"—a boy with mediocre grades and average athleticism who faded into the wallpaper. To discover such a terrifying depth of calculation beneath that bland exterior was a psychological shock. They realized they didn't know the boy sitting among them at all.
Suzune Horikita's eyes widened, a rare look of pure, unshielded hurt flashing across her face. She couldn't find her voice. She knew he was hiding his strength, but he had helped her through multiple crises. She had come to view him as her only true ally.
To hear his internal monologue describe her as a "tool" triggered a wave of indignity and a strange, sharp sorrow. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but her pride forced her to tilt her head up, blinking them back.
"Ayanokoji!" she turned to him, her voice trembling with accusation.
"It's just a video. It isn't real," Ayanokoji replied. His tone was dismissive, his face as flat as ever. He had lost track of how many times he'd said it.
But internally, he knew. The video was accurate. He had never viewed a single classmate as a "companion," Horikita included. His "Avoidance-ist" persona was his perfect camouflage; by branding himself as someone who hated trouble, he ensured no one would look for the mastermind beneath the mask.
He felt a flicker of confusion at Horikita's emotional reaction. Even if she knew his true thoughts, their goals were aligned. His actions benefited her. Why was she angry?
Feelings are illogical, he concluded. Since he still needed her as a front for his plans, he decided not to validate the broadcast's claims. "I don't have the energy to think about such complicated things," he said, his amber eyes devoid of warmth.
Horikita searched his face for a crack, a sign of guilt—anything. She found nothing but a void. She bit her lip, not wanting the class to see how much his opinion mattered to her. She turned back to the screen with a stiff, "Fine. Do whatever you want."
In the Re:Zero world, Puck's fur stood on end. He balled his tiny paws into fists. "This brat! He's treating Lia like an object! If I ever meet him, I'm going to freeze him solid!"
Emilia remained silent. She wasn't angry about being called a tool; she was bewildered. He's only sixteen or seventeen... what kind of past makes a heart turn into a machine?
Ayanokoji's reason for sticking with Emilia was simple: efficiency. Even with his vast knowledge, he was a ghost in this world. A native guide was the fastest way to bridge the information gap.
'What was stolen from you?' he asked, looking at her.
'An insignia... with a gem embedded in the center,' Emilia explained, using her hands to gesture the size, worried he wouldn't understand.
'Is the gem unique? Or is the insignia itself significant?' Ayanokoji prodded. Based on her dress and mannerisms, she was high-born. A simple piece of jewelry wouldn't cause this level of panic unless it held political or functional power.
'The insignia is... anyway, it's just very important!' Emilia's voice wavered. She couldn't bring herself to say it was her proof of candidacy for the throne. Losing it meant losing her future.
"Ah!"
In the real Lugunica, Emilia frantically patted her waist. Her fingers brushed against the cold metal of the insignia, and she let out a massive sigh of relief.
"Honestly, Lia, you're so hopeless!" Puck scolded. "How could you lose your Royal Selection insignia!"
"I didn't! It's right here!" she squeaked, her voice trembling from the close call.
She realized the "Vision" was a warning. The theft hadn't happened yet. She unclipped the insignia and tucked it into a much more secure, hidden pocket inside her robe.
The Slums.
A giant man over two meters tall stared at the sky, then looked down at the girl beside him. "Felt... that's you, isn't it?"
The girl had short blonde hair and a snaggletooth that gave her the look of a mischievous stray cat. She was dressed in ragged but functional gear, a red scarf fluttering around her neck.
"Old Man Rom... I haven't even stolen it yet!" Felt shouted back. "Someone contacted me about a job for a girl's insignia, but I was just scouting! I haven't touched it!"
Felt realized the broadcast had just ruined her biggest score. "She's a Royal Candidate? You've got to be kidding me! Do you know the heat that would bring down on us?" Rom barked, worried for his ward's life. "Cancel the contract. Now!"
"I know, I know!" Felt huffed. The whole world knew her face now; the job was impossible.
Ayanokoji knew Emilia was holding back, but he didn't press her. 'Do you have paper and a pen?'
'N-no, but we can buy some at the stalls!' Emilia led him toward the market.
As they walked, Ayanokoji absorbed everything. He learned the currency—Holy Gold, Silver, and Copper. He realized that while he understood the spoken language, the script was gibberish to him. He needed to achieve literacy immediately.
He also noted the way the crowd parted for Emilia—not out of respect, but out of fear. He heard the whispers: 'Half-Elf,' 'Silver Hair,' 'Witch.' He filed the data away. Her social standing was toxic.
'Here! Paper and a pen. Are you going to draw the thief?' Emilia handed him the supplies, her eyes wide with curiosity. 'I didn't know you were an artist.'
Ayanokoji took the pen. 'It's the most efficient way to identify a target.'