Among Americans, there was an ongoing debate.
“When will he tackle the S-Rank Tower at the Canadian border?”
“Hey, if we leave even that to the Master, where are we supposed to grow?”
“But can our Hunters really clear an S-Rank Tower so easily?”
“It’s the Master who’s abnormal for clearing them so easily—normally S-Rank Towers are tough. No rookie with experience just falls from the sky, you know?”
How will the remaining S-Rank Towers be conquered?
If this were a course meal, it felt like only one last dessert was left. People started speculating about the Master’s next move, each giving their own opinion.
“He’s going to clear the Tower at the Canadian border. Ten dollars on that.”
“Twenty on Mexico!”
“Fifty on Argentina!”
“Hundred on Korea.”
“What?”
“You throwing money into a ditch or what?!”
Just like during the Olympics or the World Cup, large-scale gambling broke out, this time centered around the Master’s movements. People even started placing real money on it.
“If it were me, I’d say Japan rather than Korea.”
“Why Japan?”
“Well, going to Korea directly seems a bit awkward, and going to China isn’t ideal either. If he’s just passing through East Asia for a bit, wouldn’t Japan be the most reasonable stop? Plus, it has a lot of things the Master seems to like.”
“What, like it’s the ‘otaku holy land’ or something?”
Some people even picked Japan solely based on the belief that the Master was “that kind of person.”
“Not sure about that. Didn’t the Master clear the Tower near Dokdo and slam it down on Japan like, ‘This is our land’?”
“That was when he was in Korea. He’s American now, isn’t he?”
“Even if he’s American, his identity as a Korean…”
“Hey, not all S-Rank Towers are gone yet, okay?”
While all sorts of chatter flew back and forth—
“Hey!! Illinois disappeared!”
“!!”
The Master… had finally made a move.
“He’s definitely going to summon Illinois somewhere out at sea or someplace like that! I’m sure of it!”
* * *
“So this is the power of a private jet.”
Contrary to everyone thinking I’d be flying on Illinois, I’m currently heading to Japan on a private jet arranged by President Luigi.
“Illinois, are you doing okay over there?”
“Yes~ I’m fine~”
Inside the plane.
Strangely enough, something that probably shouldn’t exist in a jet was installed—something like a tank, laid out like a passenger seat.
Not quite a kiddie pool, more like the kind of tank you’d see at a seafood restaurant—
A bath.
Illinois is currently soaking in that bath, which is fixed securely to the floor.
Next to her, floating underneath the water like a plastic model from a hobby store, is a miniature version of Illinois.
A sort of mimicry or shell, perhaps.
Though she currently exists in the form of a control AI personality, floating through the skies as a battleship gives Illinois quite a bit of anxiety.
So we gave her a bathtub.
To my surprise, Illinois found it extremely comforting, and the U.S. government swiftly complied with my request, having the private jet ready within a day.
“Master. Would you like an in-flight meal?”
“Sure. …Where did you even get that flight attendant uniform?”
“It was in the plane.”
Elaine, now wearing a flight attendant uniform, brings the food to my seat.
I haven’t flown much, so I wasn’t expecting anything super extravagant, but the food in front of me is clearly the kind you’d find in a first-class cabin.
“Elaine, this is sponsored, right?”
“Yes. It was provided at the U.S. government’s request.”
“Better take a photo. Drei, post this on my private SNS and say it was delicious.”
“Without even tasting it?”
“It’s weird to post half-eaten food. This is just the life of a public figure who can’t live casually.”
Not that I’m doing this just to avoid looking like some kind of otaku.
Still, aside from that, there’s a sense of gratitude for the national-level support and sponsorship—but also a kind of duty. With so many eyes watching, I need to feed their curiosity.
Even a single photo on SNS will be dissected by room-dwelling experts who’ll analyze every reflection in the cutlery and every ingredient on the plate.
Time will pass as people speculate and debate, and I’ll quietly arrive at my next destination.
“Commander. About our lodging… The hotel cleared out the entire building?”
“What? Isn’t that an H-brand hotel?”
“Once they heard you’d be staying there, they sent guests cancellation notices and offered them free stay vouchers to empty the place.”
“I appreciate the thoughtfulness but… did they really have to go that far?”
I’ve had the experience of renting out an entire floor of a hotel in Jeju Island before.
Even then, things happened—like people trying shady things from the floor below, or poisoning hotel food, or setting up cannon-lens cameras from buildings across the street to snap photos through curtains.
Because of that, I mostly stayed inside Illinois back in the U.S. But I didn’t expect them to evacuate an entire hotel in Japan just because I mentioned a short stay.
“…If I don’t clear the S-Rank Tower and just leave, people are gonna hold a grudge, huh?”
“It’s fine, Master. They judged and acted on their own without confirmation.”
“Just don’t expect that kind of hospitality next time~”
Just like Elaine and Drei said—if I simply said, “I was just here for sightseeing,” they’d smile and say “Heh,” on the outside while screaming “Damn it!” inside.
Of course they would.
They thought I came to clear the Tower near their doorstep, treated me to luxury, absorbed multi-million won losses per day in accommodation and service—and I leave without solving anything, saying “Thanks for the vacation”?
That would tarnish the reputation of Korean people as a whole.
At the same time, I had now also become someone who tarnishes the image of Korean-Americans—or even America as a whole.
For my personal movements, it was no longer possible to just go wherever I pleased. There were now far too many constraints on my actions.
So—
“When we arrive, I’ll move alone at first. You two get into position right away.”
If I’m going to be making a public appearance anyway, I might as well commit the time to doing it properly.
“They’ve spent this much money on me—at the very least, I should give them something worth that cost.”
The cost of this private jet, the installation of a custom bathtub for Illinois, the extra gear they outfitted—like the row of gaming PCs inside the plane resembling an internet café—and the custom furnishings and total evacuation of the hotel… this is the bare minimum of courtesy I can return.
“You sure you’re okay with this? It’s a public appearance, in front of a crowd.”
“I’ll be fine. If anyone tries something like an assassination, Justice will protect me.”
[Indeed! Leave it to me—rest easy!]
Maximum preparation.
The rest could be dealt with once we landed.
“Now that I think about it… I won’t even get to go through immigration like a normal person, huh.”
My life as a regular citizen had officially ended.
Look there—
Out the plane window: Tokyo.
You’d expect the S-Rank Tower to be the most eye-catching thing… but it was completely overshadowed by the massive crowd gathered near the airport and the giant card-section message they were holding.
“Those people… they were mobilized, right?”
“Officially, they’re volunteers.”
“…What did they make those cards with?”
“Painted cardboard, apparently.”
“Wow.”
Roughly 300,000 people had gathered near the airport, holding up a giant “WELCOME TO JAPAN” sign toward the sky.
“This is overwhelming. Who could go clear a Tower under this kind of pressure?”
“Well, you don’t really have a choice, do you? Everything at the hotel—food, drinks, accommodations—it’s all free. I heard top-tier sushi chefs are fighting to serve you.”
“…”
Seriously.
“They should be treating their own S-Ranks like this instead.”
* * *
[A little later]
Psssshhhhh…
The plane lands and comes to a stop. A mobile stairway is swiftly rolled up to the aircraft door.
Click-click.
On both sides of the red carpet extended from the stairway, agents in black suits take their positions. Alongside them, people with visible ID tags showing their names and affiliations begin filming the plane with cameras.
Thunk.
The door opens, and a black-haired woman in a flight attendant uniform appears.
Though the outfit is different, it’s clear this is the same person widely known by the title “Perfect Maid”: Elaine. She steps aside with practiced grace.
Step.
A young man in a black suit steps out onto the stairs.
He doesn’t look nervous. Rather than awkwardness, he carries a calm, neutral expression as he descends slowly onto the red carpet below.
Step, Step.
No one stops him. No one guides him.
There had been a protocol manual sent over from across the Pacific, but everyone gathered here knew one thing for certain—
If someone pulled something Ironblood-level reckless, this young man would turn around and fly back immediately.
“Master!”
“!!!”
A voice cut through the crowd of reporters—someone wearing a badge marked “Fuji-san TV.”
All eyes turned pale as they glared at the reporter, but he paid no attention. Raising his mic high, he shouted.
“What is your purpose for coming to Japan?!”
“Ah, dammit…!”
“That lunatic…!”
As chaos spread around the reporter, other journalists tried to restrain him in a panic.
Step.
The Master paused briefly on the spot, cleared his throat, and looked straight ahead as he answered.
“Akihabara.”
“…”
He nodded.
