Ferdinand's perspective

"Looks like my plan worked better than expected."

I smiled to myself, glancing at the high-performance peripheral map, pleased with how well my strategy had unfolded.

The two dots representing the transferees, which had been frozen in place moments ago, were now rapidly moving apart.

At the very least, this should buy us some time.

"I doubt anyone actually believed that northern transferee was Sousma Nanami, but I suppose I can still stir things up with that rumor."

I know only what I've managed to find out about Sousma Nanami, but I do know her.

Transferees, once chosen by the gods, are as good as public property—everything about them is exposed, as if to say so.

At first, there were some issues, but in the end, transference candidates are people who say goodbye to another world—essentially the same as those going to heaven.

Though legally, the dead do have rights, in practice, there's nothing that can be done about it. Transference candidates have every aspect of their lives exposed: family structure, marital status, romantic relationships, occupation, school grades, hobbies, and even their dreams for the future.

Still, until they're chosen and actually transferred, they're mostly portrayed in a positive light—probably because transference candidates still exist on Earth. After the first wave transferred, however, tabloids began treating them as if they were already dead, fabricating stories with no basis, often sourcing them from the internet.

By now, I'm sure they're writing all sorts of things about me as well.

That’s why I have a complete overview of Souma Nanami.

First of all, she appears as a quiet girl with glasses—unremarkable even in high school. She’s been close friends with the three siblings of the Kurose family since childhood, raised almost like family.

She’s no match for Serika Kurose or Karen Kurose—just an ordinary person. To begin with, she would’ve been easily killed by a man named Ozawa Yuichi the moment she was chosen. She has no combat skills, average intelligence, and nothing special about her. In short, she’s just an ordinary girl.

That’s precisely why she’s unlikely to pick darts among the options at the transfer location.

And even without that, given that Serika Kurose is acting as her brain, she’d definitely be guided toward a safe and practical path.

She would certainly do so.

“...Serika.”

It’s almost here.

It felt long, yet it passed quickly.

It's almost here.

Soon, soon, you will be freed—

◇◆◆◆◇

The forced transfer to another world, initiated by a being who claims to be a god.

At first, it was completely irrelevant to me.

I had my own life, and those being transferred were just about a thousand people in the world—barely more than a rounding error.

It felt entertaining, but had little real connection to me. …No, if the "other world" truly exists, crime might increase.

Then again, it might not be entirely unrelated after all—this is how I used to think.

The first time I saw Serika Cross, she was on a television news program or some other broadcast, passionately pleading for her brother Hikaru Cross's innocence.

I was immediately captivated by her appearance.

Speaking with the fluency of a native, Serika Cross passionately argued her brother's innocence—delicate as a windflower, I was astonished at how intelligent and beautiful a person like her could exist in this world.

From that day on, tracking her movements became my daily routine.

It was the first time I had ever been so deeply interested in someone else.

Just thinking about her made my chest ache.

Hearing her voice alone made my whole body burn with heat.

I never spoke a word of these feelings to anyone.

There was also the fact that Serika Cross, who appeared so mature, was still only a thirteen-year-old teenager, and because of that, she could objectively analyze her own feelings as being of the same kind as those one might have toward a TV celebrity.

It was like how a different world had nothing to do with her, and thus, for her, it was irrelevant.

—That was supposed to be the case.

I watched Hikaru Cross's broadcast in secret from my roommate.

A modified version edited by TwiN/SiS. For someone like me, who didn't have much money, it was convenient that it was free to watch and even had a translated version available.

I attended a law school at a university that, in Belgium, could be considered reasonably prestigious.

I had planned to take the bar exam before graduation and become a lawyer, but I didn't possess the kind of idealism typical of other university students. My parents were lawyers, and I vaguely intended to follow in their footsteps—this was my motivation.

I had neither a passion nor dreams of any kind.

I simply saw that if I stayed on this path, I could live a reasonably comfortable life without much hardship. That was the only reality I could accept, a kind of resignation.

Yet, despite all this, I came to believe that being a lawyer—defending clients in accordance with the law and justice—was the right profession for me.

I thought I could defend even the most heinous criminals without hesitation.

It was precisely because I lacked interest in myself and others that I felt this way.

What added color to my monotonous gray daily life was Serika Cross.

She was the first thing I'd ever become truly obsessed with.

Hikaru Cross had survived a dangerous situation.

That meant I'd be able to continue hearing her voice, and as a fan, I was genuinely happy.

If Hikaru Cross had died, she would have quit her commentary.

If that had happened, there would have been no more connection between us.

Hikaru Cross had to survive at all costs.

On one such day,

Serika Cross came to France, a neighboring country.

I learned of this news while struggling to understand her Japanese commentary in real time.

France, Jeanne San, I'm coming, rest in peace.

Just by understanding the words alone, it struck me with lightning clarity what it meant.

To double-check, I ran a translation, and it turned out she was visiting the adoptive father of Jeanne Colette.

(Maybe I can meet her)

From Rouen, where the dormitory is, it's only about two hours by train transfer.

It's not an unreachable place. I can probably manage the money.

(I can meet her)

(I can meet her)

(I can meet Serika Croce)

The fact that this was possible sent my heart racing fiercely.

I felt an intense heat, as if it weren't even my own.

From then on, my actions were swift.

I was utterly consumed. The thought of restraining myself never crossed my mind.

I had no idea when she'd arrive—maybe tomorrow, maybe ten days from now.

That's why I needed to act immediately.

By the time I realized it, I was already at Charles de Gaulle Airport in France.

Serika Cross would be coming from America in first class.

I never thought I'd end up doing something so childish, but it didn't feel bad at all.

I waited there for a full day.

Back in my old self, I would've dismissed this time as a complete waste.

Meeting Serika Cross helped me discover parts of myself I never knew existed.

I just wanted to meet her, say a single word of thanks.

Tell her I'm supporting her and I hope she keeps pushing forward.

Maybe, just maybe, we could even exchange contact information.

I waited, indulging in a dreamlike simulation.

Even though I was merely waiting, I felt a sense of fulfillment I had never known before.

"He’s here…! He’s here!"

Among the many tall American men, she appeared.

I had considered the possibility of missing her.

But that was unnecessary.

She was extraordinary, and there was no way I could have overlooked her.

Her slender frame was even more delicate than she appeared on screen.

Her beautiful, ash-tinted black hair.

Intelligent eyebrows. Slender eyes that conveyed inner strength.

Everything about her shimmered brilliantly in my eyes.

Not because a black-clad bodyguard was accompanying her protectively.

I couldn’t understand why myself, but I couldn’t move an inch from that spot.

(Ah... ah...)

He greeted her with gentlemanly grace, exchanged a few words, shook her hand, and left.

The plan I'd spent an entire day carefully crafting—yet my legs refused to obey me, as if they no longer belonged to me.

So I stared at her without blinking.

It was the real Serika Cross.

Not the streamer TwiN/SiS, but simply Serika Cross herself.

Not through a screen,

but the real her, standing right there in front of me.

The faint traces of youth still visible in her profile, the fatigue etched into her expression.

Her pale skin clearly showed she hadn't had enough nutrition or sleep.

From her commentary, I knew she'd been hurting inside over her brother, Hikaru Cross, and her childhood friend, Nanami Soma.

Yet she was tirelessly active, striving to prove her brother's innocence and ensuring he would triumph in the viewer race.

Everyone who followed her knew just how much she and her younger sister had accomplished together.

Though she herself must have been suffering deeply, she still moved forward, determined and resolute.

Driving herself on, despite her frail frame.

For her brother.

To keep her brother alive.

Whether traveling across nations to contact relatives of other transfer victims, or earning money through video editing—everything she did was for her brother.

I managed somehow to move my legs and ran after the departing Serika Cross.

I felt, with near certainty, that if I didn’t speak now, I would regret it for the rest of my life.

"Lady, I’m terribly sorry to interrupt—aren’t you Serika Cross?"

When I approached her, Serika Crossé showed a slight surprise.

Her bodyguard stepped forward to protect her.

"Désolé. Je suis pressé." (Sorry. I'm in a hurry.)

She spoke in smooth French and turned on her heel.

Perhaps there are other people waiting for her in various places besides me.

"Why can you keep going like this? You look so... painful."

I blurted out without thinking.

Neither words of gratitude nor words of encouragement came to mind.

Even I didn't know why I had asked such a thing.

Probably because I had seen her fragile profile, on the verge of breaking.

Serika Crossé stopped and glanced back slightly.

"...Because I started it myself. I won't back down from this fight. Never."

She said nothing more and quickly walked away.

I remained frozen in place, unable to even shift.

It was an expression of her resolve.

Her motivation behind her actions was likely "love."

Was it familial love? Or something else—something she sometimes joked about, as if it were something different? I couldn’t tell.

Her love was monopolized by her older brother, Hikaru Cross, who lived oblivious to her exhaustion and even to her affection, acting instead as if he were the victim.

The romance between Hikaru Cross and Refleia Ashbord, a local inhabitant of the other world, had captured the attention of countless viewers, so much so that now nearly no one on Earth remains unaware of the couple.

Even though she loves her brother, Serika Cross behaves during the broadcast as if she's cheering on the romance between the two of them.

Until I actually saw her in person, I thought she was just supporting him as a sister would.

But now, having seen that painful profile, I understand it's just another part of her carefully constructed "battle."

Only I—only me—truly know the real her.

If she continues clinging to her brother like this, she'll never find happiness.

It's clear she'll eventually wear herself down completely.

Unless Hikaru Cross dies.

That's right.

If Hikaru Cross dies, she'll be set free.

I can step away from the fight.

But what should I do?

How can I finally put Hikaru Cross to rest?

A world so distant it’s beyond reach.

Even Serika Cross, who’s both resourceful and determined, lacks the decisive edge.

There’s nothing I can do for her—

unless I myself go to that other world—

and take direct action.